"Riven!"
"Hey, Riven... wake up already. It's time for school. You're getting late, my little girl."
I woke up to the same voice that had called my name every day-same time, same tone, same position.
It was my mom's voice.
The voice I'm starving to hear again.
The presence my soul aches to feel.
The warmth my heart longs to hold.
It's been eight months since she passed away, and I still can't shake off this hollow feeling. I go to bed early every night, hoping that I'll hear her voice in my dreams. I know it's just my imagination-but that voice gives me the tiniest hope to start another day... to breathe... to live.
And that's exactly what my mom would've wanted. She used to say:
"After I'm gone, promise me you'll live to the fullest. Be a good person-it's the best path, there's less competition in it, and more opportunities will come your way."
She said that with a beautiful, painful smile.
But I knew what she meant behind it. I know now, more than ever.
"Kindness kills you."
Beep
"Hey, you ready?" - a text from Rayah flashed on my screen.
Rayah is my childhood friend. We share so many things: same birth month, just four days apart, same classroom, same neighborhood, same hair color-even the same toys growing up. Our names even start with the same letter. Her mom was my mom's best friend, and they got pregnant almost at the same time. I wish I could've seen their joy when they found out they were both having baby girls.
Rayah and I used to fight a lot when we were little. I hated it when she copied me. If I had a toy, she had to have the same one. I'd cry and grumble evil little things like, "May you choke while eating," especially when she stole bites of our favorite meatballs.
But with time, I realized how much she means to me. She understands me better than I understand myself-my pain, my moods, my secrets, how my mother's death changed me. And as much as I'd never say it out loud... I'm truly grateful she exists. I'm glad I know her. I'm glad she's here.
The ring bell jolted me back from my thoughts.
"Almost ready, I'll be down shortly. Just 10 mins, " I texted back and rushed into the restroom.
Rayah and I still live next door, and we walk to school together-it's about a 20-minute walk. It's fun with her around. She's hilarious and her humor... unmatched.
After freshening up, I slipped into a formal outfit. Honestly, I wish our school had uniforms. Choosing clothes every morning is such a hassle. I don't usually eat breakfast at home anymore. There was a time when we all sat around one table, sharing meals, laughter, and time. But those days are gone.
Rayah skips breakfast at home too. She says she's not hungry, but I know she does it for me-so we can eat together at school. We always grab something during the 30 minutes before class starts.
I didn't expect to see Dad this morning-he works night shifts, or at least that's what he says. But I know better...
I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and opened the front door. There she was-Rayah-beaming at me with that radiant smile and those mischievous eyes that could strip you bare without a word.
"Sorry, I overslept," I mumbled, flashing a sheepish grin. I expected a lecture or at least a sarcastic jab, but instead-
"Let's go! We're getting late. I'm starving," she said cheerfully.
That caught me off guard.
Okay... may I return home in one piece today, I whispered a silent prayer.
Rayah is honest. Rayah is kind.
And yet the thought returned, echoing louder this time:
"Kindness kills you."