Shadow and silk

Start writing here…The cool breeze brushed against Janan’s face as she sat cross-legged on the marble floor of her balcony. The desert stretched far below her, its vastness both comforting and suffocating. The moon hung high in the sky, its pale light casting soft shadows on the open diary resting on her lap.

Her pen hovered over the page as she stared into the night, her thoughts spiraling into words she couldn’t say aloud.

“I wish I could run away. Leave this place, leave everyone behind. The walls of this palace feel tighter every day, closing in on me like a cage. I wonder what it would feel like to breathe freely, to walk in a world where I’m not watched, judged, or controlled. Am I selfish for wanting this? Or is it selfish of them to keep me here?”

Her hand trembled as she wrote, pouring out the feelings she hid so well from the world. The ache of loneliness, the weight of expectations, the longing for something more—it all spilled onto the page, each word heavier than the last.

When she finally placed the pen down, she exhaled deeply, as though releasing a part of herself she could no longer hold.

It was her habit, a small ritual of comfort, to flip through the pages of her diary once she finished writing. As her fingers brushed past her past entries, she saw fragments of herself—moments of joy, frustration, hope, and despair.

When she reached the first page, her heart clenched. There, written in her neat, careful script, was a single word:

“Janan.”

Her name. It was a reminder of who she was, or perhaps who she was supposed to be. The name her parents had given her before they were taken from her, before the weight of the world had fallen on her young shoulders.

Janan traced the letters with her finger, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“i dont even deseve such beautiful name ” she whispered to the empty night, her voice swallowed by the wind.

Closing the diary, she hugged it close to her chest, as though it could protect her from the storms raging inside her

Janan's hand brushed through her book shelf

"It's been a while I visited libarary or read any book .A visit to library wouldn't hurt"

The library smelled of old paper and cedarwood, a quiet refuge from the chaos of palace life. Janan wandered between the towering shelves, running her fingers along the worn spines of books. It was her favorite place to think—or not think, depending on the day.

Her guards lingered outside the massive wooden doors, giving her space but always close enough to remind her she wasn’t truly alone. She sighed, clutching a thick tome to her chest as she turned a corner—

And walked straight into someone.

The impact sent the book tumbling to the ground, and Janan stumbled back with a startled gasp. “Ow! Watch where you’re—” She stopped mid-sentence, glaring up at the stranger.

The man blinked down at her, his dark brows furrowed. “I should say the same to you.”

Janan scoffed, brushing invisible dust off her sleeve. “Excuse me? You’re the one loitering in the middle of the aisle!”

“Loitering?” He bent down, picked up the book, and handed it to her. “I was standing still. You were the one charging like a camel in a sandstorm.”

She snatched the book from him, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “A camel? Did you just compare me to a camel?”

He smirked, crossing his arms. “If the hoof fits...”

Her eyes narrowed, a mix of annoyance and incredulity flashing across her face. “You’re unbelievably rude.”

“And you’re unbelievably dramatic,” he shot back, tilting his head as if genuinely impressed by her indignation.

Janan’s lips parted, a retort ready to fire, but she stopped herself. Why was she even arguing with this stranger? She straightened her posture, clutched her book tightly, and gave him her most regal glare. “Just stay out of my way,” she said sharply, brushing past him.

“Gladly,” he called after her, the grin in his voice evident. “Enjoy your stomping.”

Janan paused for a split second but refused to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

As she disappeared down the aisle, he shook his head, a chuckle escaping him. “What’s her problem?” he muttered under his breath.

The grand hall of the palace loomed before Janan, its marble floors gleaming under the glow of ornate chandeliers. She stepped inside, the echoes of her footsteps swallowed by the sheer vastness of the space. Though the palace was her home, it often felt more like a gilded cage.

Her uncle, dressed in a flowing robe adorned with gold embroidery, was waiting for her at the center of the hall. His sharp eyes followed her every move, and Janan braced herself for the interrogation she knew was coming.

“Where have you been?” he asked, his tone clipped.

Janan hesitated, clutching the strap of her bag. “The library,” she said simply, keeping her voice steady.

“For hours?” His brows knitted together in disapproval. “You disappear without notice, and your guards stand idly by. Do you realize how reckless that is?”

“I wasn’t reckless,” she replied, her frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “I was reading. Is that a crime now?”

“It’s not about the reading,” he snapped. “It’s about your lack of awareness. Do you know how many enemies our family has? You could be putting yourself in danger without even realizing it.”

Janan crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering. “I had guards. I was safe. You don’t need to interrogate me every time I step outside these walls.”

Her uncle’s expression darkened. “This isn’t interrogation, Janan. It’s responsibility. Your actions reflect on this family. You may not care, but I do.”

His words struck a nerve, but Janan refused to show it. Instead, she exhaled sharply, lowering her gaze. “If that’s all, I’d like to rest now.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and walked away, her footsteps quick and determined. As she ascended the staircase to her room, her heart pounded with a mix of anger and helplessness.

The palace walls seemed to close in on her as she entered her chamber, locking the door behind her. She leaned against it, closing her eyes as she tried to steady her breath.

Why can’t they just let me live?

Janan stormed up the staircase, her footsteps echoing against the marble walls. The conversation with her uncle replayed in her mind, each word like a fresh sting. Responsibility? How is it my fault that they’ve built this world of enemies and paranoia?

By the time she reached her room, her chest felt tight with anger and frustration. She pushed the door open, shutting it firmly behind her. Leaning against the door, she exhaled a shaky breath, her head tilting back as she stared at the ornate ceiling.

Her room was as grand as the rest of the palace—golden trims on the walls, soft velvet drapes swaying in the breeze, and a bed fit for royalty. But it didn’t feel like hers. None of it did. It felt like a set stage where she was expected to play a role she never wanted.

She made her way to the balcony, her sanctuary. Dropping her bag onto a nearby chair, she stepped outside and felt the cool night air brush against her face. The vast desert spread out before her, endless and untamed.

Janan closed her eyes, letting the breeze calm her frayed nerves. Out there, no one would question me. No one would watch my every move.

The weight of her uncle’s words still lingered, but she refused to let them consume her. She walked back inside, pulling her diary out of her bag and sitting on the edge of her bed.

Opening it to a fresh page, she let her pen flow:

“The world outside calls to me, a freedom I’ll never taste. They say it’s for my safety, but all I feel is trapped. If this is protection, why does it feel so much like a prison?”

She paused, staring at the words. They were raw, unfiltered, and honest. Exactly how she felt.

When she finished writing, she turned to the first page of her diary, her fingers brushing over her name. Janan. The name her parents had given her—a name that once symbolized joy but now felt like a reminder of all she had lost.

She closed the diary, setting it aside as she lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her mind wandered to the stranger she had met in the library earlier, his smirk, his irritating words. A small, unbidden smile tugged at her lips.

At least not everyone in this world treats me like glass, she thought before the smile faded, replaced by the familiar ache of longing.

The night stretched on as Janan stared into the darkness, her thoughts swirling like a storm she couldn’t escape.

The soft call for Esha prayer echoed faintly in the distance, breaking the silence of Janan's room. She lifted herself off the bed, her heart heavy but her resolve firm. Prayer was the one thing that made her feel whole, the one moment where her heart found solace.

Walking to the small corner of her room designated for her worship, she reached for her prayer mat, its fabric worn yet comforting beneath her fingers. She performed ablution, the cool water washing away the remnants of her frustration.

As she stood on the mat, the world outside seemed to fade away. With each movement of the prayer, her mind felt lighter, her heart quieter. Bowing her head in sujood, she let her tears fall freely, her forehead pressed to the ground as she poured her soul out to Allah.

When the prayer was complete, she raised her hands in dua,

Her voice broke as the words left her lips, raw and unfiltered. "I am lost, my Lord. This heart aches for a freedom I cannot reach, for peace that feels so far away. Guide me, Ya Allah, because I don’t know where else to turn."

She sat back on her knees, her hands still raised, her heart heavy with longing. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of the wind through the curtains.

In that moment, it felt as though her words were carried to the heavens, the silence of the room a testament to the weight of her prayer.