Your Sweet Lies ..

She stood by the window, dressed as if meeting fate itself. Every detail of her was carefully chosen—as if
today was the day she had long imagined. She watched the passersby, eyes darting from one face to
another, searching for the one she had been waiting for all this time.
Each time a figure resembled his, her heart leapt wildly. She’d take a deep breath—unsure whether it was
relief that it wasn’t him, or a quiet heartbreak that he still hadn’t come.
She glanced at her watch.
Then her phone.
No call.
No message.
Not even a single word.
He knew she was waiting. He knew how much this meeting meant.
Still… silence.
She returned to the window, her breath forming fog on the glass. She wiped it away gently, as if trying to
clear the blur inside her chest. A familiar silhouette appeared outside—her heart raced again.
She clasped her hands together, biting the edge of her thumb in anxious anticipation.
But when the illusion faded, and it wasn’t him… she deflated quietly. A slow-burning anger crept in—not loud,
but deeply felt.
She checked her phone again.
Still nothing.
She looked at her reflection. Her bangs were a little messy—as disheveled as her thoughts.
She tossed her phone onto the bed and sat at her vanity, brushing her hair slowly.
Her gaze met her own eyes.
She liked how she looked.
She smiled, softly, imagining how he’d look at her.
That gaze she knew so well…
The one that always melted her.
The one that spoke love without saying a word.
She rushed back to the window—she had promised herself she wouldn’t miss a moment of his arrival.
His steps…
His breath…
His eyes searching for her.
Did he feel it too?
That same nervous ache wrapped in longing?
Did his heart beat wildly at the thought of her?
Did he love her the way she loved him?
And then—she saw him.
Yes. It was him.
Across the street.
Elegant, handsome—exactly as she remembered.
He looked around. Smiled. Rubbed his palms together.
He pulled out his phone—then put it back in his pocket.
She checked hers.
Still nothing.
He took it out again. Typed something. Paused. Put it away.
She smiled.
He’s hesitating, just like me.
He must be nervous.
He must feel something.

She ran to her perfume, sprayed it lightly on her neck and wrist, and returned.
He was still there.
Looking around.
Smiling.
Phone out again… typing…
Then—he waved.
Her heart stopped.
She looked behind him.
There she was.
A woman at the end of the street.
Staring at him the way she had just been.
Eyes full of love.
She blew him a kiss.
And he?
Caught it mid-air. Pressed it gently to his heart.
As if to say, “You made it.”
The woman turned and walked away.
He watched her go… until she vanished.
And she, the one behind the window, saw everything.
She saw him—truly—for the first time.
And for the first time… she felt nothing.
No ache.
No longing.
No sadness.
Just silence inside her.
As if all her love had gathered its things and left.
Her phone rang.
It was him.
She answered. Her eyes still on him.
But his face no longer looked like the man she had loved.
She asked, her voice calm, like the last page of a story:
– Hello?
– Hello”? That’s all? Where are you? You’re late. I missed you.
– Do you love me?
– What kind of question is that after all this time?
– Do you love me?
– My love has always been in actions, not words.
– Really?
– Have I ever lied to you?
She didn’t answer.
She just watched.
Watched her love die, quietly.
Even now… she couldn’t hurt him.
Not even in goodbye.
Her voice, gentle, almost kind:
– Your lies… are sweet.

– She ended the call.
Blocked his number.
Closed the curtain.
Then softly, to herself, she hummed Mayada’s song…
“Your lies are sweet… how sweet it was to be just a lie in your life…”
“Your lies are sweet… think of me once, let me cross your mind again…”
“Your lies are sweet… sweet…”