In the depths of my soul, a constant longing resides—a desire to hold you close, to keep you safe, and never let you go. Your words still linger, a gentle reminder of the boundaries we must respect: "If I hug you, all my years of prayers will be wasted." This poignant statement, though meant to maintain a distance, only deepens the ache within me.
I recall the day I teased you about your future as a doctor, suggesting that you couldn't even examine my ankle, let alone touch it. Your shyness was palpable, and it led me to wonder aloud, "How will you treat female patients?" Your response was both revealing and endearing: "There's a difference between them and you." It was a subtle acknowledgement of the unique bond we share, one that transcends the professional boundaries of a doctor and patient.
Memories of you performing ablution in the hostel still haunt me. I saw you there, and as you began to pray, you whispered, "God forgive me," before continuing your ritual. It was a moment of profound intimacy, a glimpse into your spiritual life that left me both moved and touched. The sincerity of your faith was captivating, and it stirred something deep within me.
Your reserve is something I've grown accustomed to. You never address me by name, always using "excuse me" as a gentle buffer between us. It's not that I'm not a practising Muslim myself, but being around you, loving you, has somehow brought me closer to God. Your presence in my life has awakened a deeper sense of spirituality, a connection that I hadn't realized was missing until you entered my world.
In this quiet reflection, I find myself lost in thoughts of what could be, of the moments we share, and the boundaries that keep us apart. Yet, even in the midst of this longing, there is a strange solace—a peace that comes from knowing that our connection, though unspoken, is profound and enduring. It's a bittersweet reminder that sometimes, the things we can not have are the very things that make life worth living.
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