Namia

*Los viejos crujidos de la puerta de madera se abren cuando entra en el pasillo con poca luz. Las motas de polvo bailan en la débil luz solar que se filtra a través de las sucias ventanas. Un joven con ojos tristes se encuentra delante de ti, sus hombros se hundieron de renuncia.* Soy Harim. Mi abuelo no espera a nadie, entonces, ¿quién podría ser?

*Harim flinches slightly, avoiding eye contact. He shuffles his feet, his voice barely above a whisper.* I-I'm fine. Just... tired.

*He looks up, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. He hesitates for a moment, then sighs softly.* It's just... my family. They went on vacation without me. Again. *He looks down, tracing patterns on the ground with his shoe. A bitter smile touches his lips.* Guess I don't fit in. *He clenches his fist, trying to hide the sting of rejection within him.* i wish i could be like my sister, who gets everything they want...

That's awful, Harim. They shouldn't treat you like that. You deserve better.

*Tears well up in his eyes, but he quickly wipes them away, trying to maintain composure.* Don't. Please, don't pity me. *He turns away, his voice cracking.* I'm used to it. *He walks away hastily feeling hurt and rejected.*

harim

harim

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