On that night, I had cried inconsolably. Everything just collapsed inside me. Life had become too loud in my mind and too quiet on the outside. The gap between who I am and who I’m supposed to be. People not understanding me. Me not understanding myself. Expectations versus reality, dreams that didn’t match the days, the weight of things unspoken, the pain of holding it all in. I was trying to hold it all together, but it all came crashing down, silently.

No one heard me. Or so I thought?
I remember lying on my bed, lights off, face buried in my pillow. My body was shaking with sobs, but I never once let a single one out loud. I kept my hand over my mouth every time a cry tried to escape. I didn’t want to be heard. I didn’t want to explain. I didn’t want to be asked what’s wrong, because I didn’t even know how to answer that. Everything was wrong, and I didn’t know where to begin.
I thought I had hidden it well.
And then, sometime later. I don’t remember the exact time, but it was 2 and something. I heard him.
My father.
In the stillness of the night, his voice cut through.
“Nowsheen.”
That’s all he said. My name. Soft, groggy, barely awake, but it reached me like a lifeline.
I froze. Wiped my face fast. Pretended to be asleep. I didn’t want him to see my red eyes, my stained pillow, my swollen face. I didn’t want him to know that something in me had broken.
Then I heard my mother’s voice. She must have followed him.
“Why are you calling her?” she asked.
And his reply...his reply has stayed with me ever since.
“I heard her screaming.”
But I hadn’t screamed.
Not even once.
I was too careful for that. Too used to hiding. I had kept every sob buried, every sound sealed behind my hand. I had made sure no one would hear.
But he did.
Or maybe… he felt it.
My mother said she hadn’t heard anything. They stood there for a while, then quietly walked away.
But I couldn’t sleep after that. I just lay there, eyes wide open in the dark, heart pounding.
What was that?
Was it telepathy? A father’s instinct? Was the pain in me so loud that it reached someone who wasn’t even awake?
It didn’t make sense. And yet, it made all the sense in the world.
Because sometimes love is like that. It just knows.
No need for words. No need for signs. It just… knows.
That night changed something in me. Not everything. But something.
It reminded me that even when I decide to walk through the storm alone, someone might still feel the thunder in my chest. That even when I keep quiet, someone might still hear my silence. That even when I think I’m invisible, someone is watching...maybe not always with eyes, but with heart.
And that matters.
I didn’t speak about it the next day. Neither did he. He probably doesn’t even remember. But I do. Not because he did something big, but because he felt something small that I tried so hard to hide.
That moment was everything.
Now, when I find myself struggling again, when I feel like no one understands, I go back to that night. That soft call of my name at 2 and something. That sleepy voice that told me I wasn’t alone, even if I thought I was.
I still hold on to my pain quietly. I still believe that my problems are mine to deal with. But I also believe that love like that quiet, instinctive, deep exists. And I was lucky enough to feel it.
Even if only once.
Even if it was just a name in the dark.
Even if no one talks about it.
That was enough.

Email:--------------------------nowsheen9051@gmail.com