"You said you were scared," Mariam said quietly. "But you're not scared of falling, Layla. You're scared of jumping . There's a difference."
(Girl...)
Layla reached out. Her fingers brushed the sleeve of Mariam's worn denim jacket—the one with the embroidered flower on the cuff, the one their mother had made before the cancer took her.
(You're stepping hard...)
(The girl says to her...)
She was walking toward the edge.
Layla's voice cracked on the last syllable. She wasn't scared of the height. She wasn't scared of the drop. She was scared of her . Of Mariam. Of what Mariam had become in the three months since her older brother disappeared—taken by men in plain clothes, no charges, no phone call, just a black van and the screech of tires.
"You said you were scared," Mariam said quietly. "But you're not scared of falling, Layla. You're scared of jumping . There's a difference."
(Girl...)
Layla reached out. Her fingers brushed the sleeve of Mariam's worn denim jacket—the one with the embroidered flower on the cuff, the one their mother had made before the cancer took her. thmyl- albnt tqwlh ana khayfh ant btdws jamd bnt...
(You're stepping hard...)
(The girl says to her...)
She was walking toward the edge.
Layla's voice cracked on the last syllable. She wasn't scared of the height. She wasn't scared of the drop. She was scared of her . Of Mariam. Of what Mariam had become in the three months since her older brother disappeared—taken by men in plain clothes, no charges, no phone call, just a black van and the screech of tires. "You said you were scared," Mariam said quietly