We fondly called Rabia “Ruby.” She was my childhood friend, but sometimes I felt our friendship was mismatched. There was a world of difference between our statuses. She lived in a grand, sprawling mansion, while we had a modest two-room house, part mud, part brick. My mother passed away when I was only six, and my father and aunt raised me. My aunt, childless and widowed, lived with us and loved me dearly. Across from our house stood Mr. Shaw’s mansion. His only son, Oliver, was a kind boy with no trace of arrogance. Ruby, Oliver, and I were childhood playmates, often playing in our courtyard. Oliver always took my side in games, which made Ruby jealous. She thought he ignored her. Ruby was a bit proud and believed no one was above her. She also had a habit of expecting every wish to be fulfilled.
As children, we went to school together, studied, and played as a trio. But as we grew older, our paths diverged. After I passed eighth grade, my father put me in a private school. I rarely saw Ruby, and meeting Oliver was now a distant dream since we didn’t visit their home. Only on special occasions would my aunt go there. When I went to our rooftop to hang laundry, I’d see Oliver sitting in his mansion’s front lawn, clearly visible from our roof. When our eyes met, we’d exchange a greeting. That was the extent of our acquaintance now. Around then, my exam results came out—I passed and returned to school. Ruby went to school in a car, while I took a rickshaw. Sometimes, she’d come to my house, saying, “Come with me,” and I’d go, bound by childhood friendship. One day, as I stood at the rickshaw stand, someone called my name. I turned in surprise to see Oliver. He approached, handed me a book, and said, “Accept this gift from me. Open it carefully at home when you’re alone.” Seeing him after so long left me stunned. School felt overwhelming, so I returned home. My father, a schoolteacher, was out. I told my aunt I had a headache and went to my room. Under the pretext of changing, I locked the door and, with trembling hands, opened the book. Inside the first page was an envelope with a letter from Oliver. It read:
“Dear Sophia, since childhood, whenever I tried to talk to you, Ruby always came between us. She doesn’t want us to be close. Because of her, I couldn’t tell you that I like you. You might think our union is impossible, and Ruby’s right to say so. She says it’s earth versus sky, but her thoughts are rooted in arrogance. I hate such shallow thinking. Don’t let these ideas enter your mind, or my tender feelings will be deeply hurt. I despise those who value wealth over people. I only want your sincerity, and if I could have your companionship for life, I’d consider myself the luckiest man alive. I gave you this gift on the street—please forgive my boldness. I was desperate. I wanted to send a message through Ruby but didn’t trust her. Your childhood friend, Oliver.”
Reading the letter, I broke into a sweat, then felt an unfamiliar joy. My heart confirmed I’d been waiting for this moment, living for it. I couldn’t sleep that night, feeling like the luckiest girl. But by morning, I decided that, love aside, I shouldn’t trust a rich boy. When Ruby came, I couldn’t hide my feelings. “Ruby, I need your advice,” I said. She replied, “Of course, friends are for this. Trust me and tell me everything.” I told her Oliver wanted me as his life partner, but I wondered if he was serious or just playing. She said, “Test him. Let me handle it. I’ll tell him you’re engaged to your cousin and your father plans to marry you off after high school. If he loves you, he’ll send his family to propose. If he stays silent, he doesn’t care.” I agreed to see his reaction. The next day, Ruby returned and said she told Oliver, but he just listened quietly and left. I told her, “You shouldn’t have said anything.” She replied, “Your exams are coming. Focus on them, then we’ll test him again.” I don’t know what else she told him, but I threw myself into exam preparations. After exams, results came—I passed. I still went to the rooftop, and if Oliver was in his lawn, he’d wave in his usual way. He neither approached me nor sent another letter.
Ruby’s house shared a wall with Oliver’s, and they visited each other often. As I mentioned, due to our financial status, we rarely went to their homes, but Ruby came to ours whenever she pleased. I eagerly awaited her, hoping for news of Oliver, perhaps due to my inferiority complex, which stopped me from contacting him directly. Ruby said it was time to test him again. “Come to my house this evening. I’ll tell your aunt I’m inviting friends to celebrate passing exams.” She got my aunt’s permission, and I went to her house. She hid me behind trees in the lawn where I could see Oliver. Ruby called him, and they sat on chairs at a distance. She said, “Oliver, it’s happened. Sophia’s engagement is fixed. She asked me to arrange a car for her wedding procession since her family’s car is away, and the groom’s side has no arrangements. She wants to leave for her village in a car. Can you lend yours?” I watched closely—Oliver’s face paled, and without a word, he got up and left. Ruby came to me and said, “See, he’s so selfish.” I didn’t think clearly and believed her, assuming Oliver didn’t care. If he did, he’d have said something instead of leaving. My heart was wounded, but Ruby consoled me, saying, “Forget that unfaithful man.” Her words, her selfishness, shattered my dreams. She didn’t consider that her scheme would ruin two hearts. I was foolish to believe her every word.
One day, my aunt said, “Sophia, I’m going to Mr. Shaw’s house. Oliver is very ill, and I’m visiting him. Lock the door.” The news shocked me. After she left, I paced the house restlessly. The loneliness was suffocating, and thoughts of my father’s weary face haunted me. I wished my mother were alive—I’d have insisted on visiting Oliver with her. What was wrong with him? Why was he ill? I wished she were here or I were gone. Ruby had told Oliver I was thrilled about my fixed wedding, a love marriage. Her cruel lie didn’t consider that those who dig pits for others fall in themselves. She even said Oliver admitted he was just passing time with me, a poor girl who’d easily trust dreams of mansions and cars. He said his parents would disown him if he proposed to me. Hearing this, my hopes died. I regretted testing him. If I’d stayed in that illusion, my dreams might have come true. I hoped he’d send his parents to propose after hearing of my fake engagement, but neither they came nor did he reach out. He even stopped sitting in his lawn. I kept going to the rooftop, hoping to see him, but learned later that Ruby’s lies about me made him ill. I believed he was deceiving me.
Ruby was cunning, and I didn’t see it. I knew she was free-spirited with boyfriends, but not that she was scheming and couldn’t bear my happiness. She secretly hated me, feigning affection while drifting away. I kept seeking her out, hoping to talk about Oliver. She never explained her distance until her hatred surfaced, as if she vowed to erase me. My aunt went to Mr. Shaw’s again for a prayer gathering for Oliver. I expressed my wish to go, and she took me. I sat in a corner. Ruby was in another city, and I felt alone, wishing she were there. My eyes searched for Oliver, but he wasn’t there. I stepped into the veranda, and there he was, looking like a prince in a simple suit. I couldn’t stop staring. Our eyes met, and he walked away briskly. I remembered the Oliver who wouldn’t play without me. Now, he seemed so different. A sound startled me—Oliver stood there, weak and somber. Without a word, he slipped a note under my plate and left. I grabbed the note, a piece of tissue, and left without permission. At home, I opened it: “A new journey begins for you, dear friend. Congratulations on your new companion.” I kept the note, waiting for Ruby to discuss it. She returned the next day. I showed her the note, and she called Oliver a fraud, warning me not to trust him. “If he was sincere, he’d have sent his family to propose.”
All day, I listened for the door, hoping Oliver would come, but he didn’t. Disappointment broke me. I felt like the unluckiest girl, with only my aunt as my solace—until she, too, left me forever. My father was my only support, and a song brought me comfort: “Whoever I met treated my heart like a toy.” I played it repeatedly until my father, annoyed, said, “Break that cassette!” He didn’t know my pain, busy with his work. Ruby stopped sharing my sorrows. One day, my father said, “Your friend’s wedding is today, reception tomorrow. Won’t you go?” “Who’s she marrying?” I asked. “Mr. Shaw’s son, Oliver. Didn’t Ruby invite you?” His words paralyzed me. I ran to my room to hide my tears. A fever confined me to bed. The next day, the gardener’s son came, saying, “Oliver calls for you.” Ruby, watching from her house, followed and said, “Wait, I’ll handle this. Tell Oliver Sophia loves her fiancé and he should forget her.” It was all Ruby’s lie—no fiancé existed. Memories flooded back, and I hated Ruby. A friend betrayed my love. I wished I hadn’t trusted her. Oliver had warned me about her, but I believed her. Perhaps that’s why he married her, the one who separated us. They moved to America.
My father urged me to accept any proposal, worried about my future. But I refused, completed my degree, and took a job. I accepted my deprivations but wondered if Ruby had forgotten me. Oliver showed me dreams but married his equal. One day, a knock came—it was Ruby’s cousin, Ethan, saying he was leaving for America and asked if I had a message for Ruby. “Just say hello,” I replied. He asked, “Why haven’t you married?” Tears welled up. I told him everything, saying, “Tell Oliver Ruby said we should test him, her plan. I never told him, but he didn’t try to bridge our divide either.” Ethan said, “You’re better than Ruby, more virtuous. It’s about class—they treat others as inferior. It wasn’t a big issue for him.” I felt he was sincere, supporting me. I met Ruby years later when she returned. I was a headmistress. She looked broken, confessing, “Sophia, I hurt you both and am now unhappy. I lied to turn you against each other, but those who can’t see others happy aren’t happy themselves. I planted doubts, yet Oliver never forgot you.” I said, “That’s a lie. I’m not his class—how could he remember me?” She replied, “You were worthy, but he chose me.” I swallowed my tears. Ruby never returned, perhaps to confess and lighten her soul. But my soul remains restless, haunted by a man who, with a few lines on a note, left me forever restless, waiting for his return.
Post a Comment