— …Why is it so hard…?
Aïcha's voice was trembling, but this time it wasn't just sadness.
It was a broken voice, as if every word scratched her throat on the way out.
She was sitting on the bench, slightly curled up, her shoulders dropped, her body folded inward as if she was trying to disappear.
Her fingers were locked together so tightly they were shaking with tension, her knuckles pale, her skin slightly cold.
Her breathing was unstable, irregular, sometimes stuck in her chest as if something was preventing her from breathing fully.
Her eyes were red and constantly wet, and even when she wasn't speaking, silent tears kept falling without control.
⏰ It was 9:42 PM.
Michel stayed silent for several seconds.
A heavy silence.
Not empty.
A silence that observes.
He wasn't looking at her with pity, but with calm, contained concern.
The bench was under a tree whose leaves moved slowly.
But today, even the wind felt heavier.
Far away, the city continued: engines, voices, normal life.
But for Aïcha, everything felt disconnected.
As if she was still trapped in a moment the world had already forgotten.
Aïcha inhaled.
But her breath slightly broke halfway through.
— Why… is everything always like this…?
Her voice completely cracked at the end, turning into a whisper.
She lowered her head even more, as if looking at the world had become too hard.
Michel slowly turned his head toward her.
He took his time before answering.
— Do you want to talk… or just breathe for a moment?
Then he gently added:
— And… where were you going this morning?
Aïcha hesitated.
Her fingers were still trembling.
— …Just walking.
she said simply.
— I just wanted to walk a little.
Michel nodded slowly, without pressing further.
Aïcha didn't answer immediately.
But her silence already showed she no longer fully controlled her emotions.
In her mind, everything kept coming back.
The violent sound.
The ground that seemed to shake.
The rush of air from the car just centimeters away.
That split second where she understood everything could have ended without warning.
Her throat tightened brutally.
— I thought I was going to die this morning…
she finally said.
But this time, her voice trembled so much she almost stopped in the middle.
Michel lowered his eyes.
His expression became more serious.
— I saw it… in your eyes.
A silence.
A longer silence.
Aïcha brought her hand to her face, but her fingers were shaking so much she had to try twice to wipe her tears.
And even then, they came back immediately.
— What scares me… it's not only the accident…
she whispered.
Her breathing kept breaking her words.
— It's that… it can happen anytime…
She inhaled deeply, but the air trembled in her chest.
— You walk… you live… you think everything is normal… and in one second…
Her voice broke again.
— everything disappears…
Michel stayed silent.
The city noise now felt even farther away.
— Yes…
he said softly.
— That's why it's frightening.
Aïcha stared at her hands.
They were still trembling, but now she could clearly see them.
As if she had just realized she was still alive.
— And me… I already feel like everything is heavy even without that…
she murmured.
Michel looked at her for a long moment.
— Tell me.
Aïcha hesitated.
Longer this time.
Her breathing briefly stopped before she spoke.
— At work… I smile.
Her voice was weak.
— At home… I act like I'm normal.
She swallowed hard.
— And outside… I pretend everything is fine.
A tear fell onto her hand.
She didn't even wipe it this time.
— But I'm tired of pretending…
Michel didn't answer immediately.
He took a soft breath, as if choosing his words carefully.
— That's not weakness…
he finally said.
— It just means you've been carrying too much for too long.
Aïcha closed her eyes.
Her shoulders trembled slightly.
Farther down the street…
A man stood in front of a small stall of bright red tomatoes.
The vendor carefully rearranged the fruits, her movements slow but precise, shaped by fatigue.
— Honestly, these tomatoes are bad!
the man said, frowning impatiently.
He squeezed one too hard.
The woman froze for a second.
Her expression hardened, but her voice stayed controlled.
— Sir… these are fresh tomatoes. If you squeeze them like that, of course they'll get damaged.
— I'm paying for quality!
he replied louder.
The tone rose slightly.
But the street kept moving as if nothing was happening.
Aïcha looked at them.
But her eyes were still elsewhere.
In the memory of this morning.
The sound.
The impact.
The wind.
The moment she thought she might disappear.
She inhaled slowly, but her breath still trembled.
— The world keeps going…
she whispered.
— even when you almost die.
Michel nodded softly.
— Yes.
A silence.
— And that's one of the hardest things to accept.
Aïcha lowered her head.
Her hair fell slightly over her face.
— Michel…
— yes?
She took a deep breath.
— Why do I feel like everyone is moving forward… except me?
Michel looked at the street.
Then he answered quietly.
— Because you stopped at a place where others didn't wait for you.
Aïcha stayed silent.
— I feel empty…
she exhaled.
— but also too full…
Michel nodded slowly.
— That's what happens when everything overflows at once.
A heavy silence.
But alive.
And suddenly…
Aïcha's phone vibrated.
A short sound.
Too sharp in that fragile moment.
She flinched slightly, reacting before thinking.
Her fingers trembled as she took it out.
She looked at the screen.
📞 Lina Bako
Silence.
She hesitated.
Then answered.
— Hello…?
Her voice was fragile.
Broken.
Silence.
Then a woman's voice.
A trembling voice.
Out of breath.
Almost panicking.
— Aïcha…
A muffled sob came through the phone.
— Please… listen to me…
Aïcha straightened slightly.
Michel watched without interrupting.
— What is it…?
The woman struggled to breathe.
She was crying.
— It's Braëlla…
Total silence.
— She… she is very sick…
The world around Aïcha seemed to stop completely.
The street noise almost disappeared.
Even her own breathing.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
— …what?
she whispered.
And her expression changed completely.