The Woman Who Was Almost Me

I was packing my bags for another work trip to the capital when Baran tugged at my sleeve.

"Can I come with you this time?" she asked, her wide eyes full of hope.

I smiled and shook my head. "Not this week, sweetie. But I'll come back sooner than usual, I promise."

She pouted but didn't argue. She had grown used to this routine by now.

That week, I sensed something off in my business. There were minor issues—delays, miscommunications—but nothing alarming. I pushed through, focusing on my work, knowing I'd be home soon.

When I finally returned, just as I stepped inside, the smell of warm food greeted me.

"You're just in time!" Negin called from the kitchen. "Dinner is ready."

She had been putting in extra effort lately, trying to make my homecomings feel special. I appreciated it more than I could say.

As we ate, she wasted no time bringing up what was really on her mind.

"Can we set up another memory session with Laleh tonight?" she asked eagerly.

I hesitated for a second but then nodded. "Alright. We can spend the night with her."

It wasn't just for Negin. I was beginning to find these conversations... strangely satisfying.

That night, Laleh shared more memories of her early years with Dina in school.

Then she said, "In our third year, Dina was accepted back into the elite school. But after just two months, she was expelled again and returned to our school."

I exhaled sharply. "And that," I said, "was the first time my father truly lost his patience with her."

Laleh smiled knowingly. "So, you do remember."

Then she turned to Negin. "This was the time your other aunt appeared in my life."

She was talking about me. That was the year I entered their school.

Laleh leaned back in her chair, her eyes drifting as if she was recalling distant memories.

"You were different from Dina," she said after a pause. "Quieter. More reserved. But also... sharp."

Negin looked at me curiously. "So, you and Dina were in the same school, but you weren't close?"

I shook my head. "Not in the way Laleh and Dina were. I was just... there. Watching everything unfold."

I wasn't sure if I was ready to revisit those days in full detail, but Laleh seemed determined to guide us through the past, one piece at a time.

Laleh smirked. "How many times do you remember Dina convincing you to take the blame for her mistakes at school?"

I frowned, leaning back in my chair. "Too many times."

Negin's eyes widened. "She made you do that?"

Laleh nodded. "Oh, she had a way with words. She made it sound like a small favor, something harmless. But in reality, she was always protecting herself at your expense."

I exhaled sharply, memories surfacing one by one. At the time, it hadn't seemed like a big deal. But looking back, I could see the pattern—how she had subtly manipulated me into covering for her, while she walked away untouched.

"And I let her," I admitted, my voice quieter now. "Every time."

Laleh placed a comforting hand on my arm. "We both did, Dorsa. Until we didn't."

I met her gaze, realizing she was right. There had been a moment when things shifted—when we finally stopped letting Dina use us. But that part of the story was yet to come.

Laleh smiled lightly. "There was something about her that made anyone close to her love her deeply. But at the same time, if you were even a little distant, you could feel an odd resentment from her."

I nodded thoughtfully. "Sometimes, I think it was like she had a way of capturing people's attention."

Laleh chuckled softly. "Oh, don't make it sound too dramatic. It wasn't like that. It was just the way her innocence drew people in."

Negin, who had been listening closely, finally spoke. "So, was she really that kind? Or was there something else going on?"

Laleh paused for a moment before answering. "She was kind, but there was always an underlying purpose to it. It wasn't completely selfless."

I agreed, understanding where she was coming from. "She made everyone feel special, but the moment you stopped paying attention, it was like you became irrelevant to her."

Laleh sighed, her expression soft. "Exactly. And that was how she held control—by making sure people feared being left out of her world."

Negin frowned, clearly thinking this over. "So, when did you both realize who she really was?"

Laleh and I exchanged a quiet look. "It wasn't a single moment, really," I said. "It was a gradual thing. And by the time we fully understood, it felt too late to do anything about it."

There was no heavy tension in the air between us, just a shared understanding of the complexity of the past.

Laleh laughed softly, waving her hand. "Oh, Dorsa, things weren't as dramatic as you make them sound. It wasn't like a crime or manipulation, not that intense."

I disagreed, but didn't interrupt, letting her continue.

"For me, there was always something about her bravery," Laleh said, her tone thoughtful. "She was fearless on the outside, but inside, she had her own set of fears. Sometimes, it was like she would act just to cover them up."

I nodded, unsure of what to make of that perspective, but I kept listening as she continued.

"Dorsa, do you remember the time she was punished for skipping the school religious ceremony?" Laleh asked, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if she was trying to gauge my memory.

I paused for a moment, the memory coming back to me. It was one of those incidents that stood out, but felt tangled with so many other things from back then.

Laleh nodded slowly, her expression softening as she continued. "That's right. That's when it all began with her. Dina started to believe she was the cause of her mother's death. It wasn't true, of course—her mother passed away later—but at the time, we all thought it happened right after Dina was born."

I sighed, the weight of that memory lingering. "And that's something she never really got over," I said quietly, the truth still cutting deep.

Laleh looked thoughtful, her gaze distant. "Exactly. And in her mind, around that same time, she imagined giving birth to another daughter, Mahkia. A daughter who would never leave her side, as if she needed to replace the void her mother left."

I paused, feeling a surge of empathy for Dina, but also frustration. "But my mom, she always tried to be a mother to Dina, just like any other mother, and even more."

Laleh nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Your mom really tried, but there was always that invisible wall between them, a wall Dina built on her own, whether she knew it or not."

I thought about that for a moment, realizing how much of Dina's pain had shaped her actions and decisions over the years.

Laleh nodded thoughtfully, her gaze distant. "Yes, her imaginary daughter did have a positive impact on her at first. Dina became more focused on her studies, even having some success in scientific competitions. She seemed to be on the right path." She paused, as if recalling the next part of the story. "And then... she met the boy under radical circumstances."

I furrowed my brow, surprised. "Wait, Laleh! Did she really know him before I mentioned him in her university years?"

Laleh didn't respond further, leaving me to reflect on what she had said.

I continued, trying to understand the situation better. "How did she describe him in her high school years?"

Laleh paused before answering, clearly recalling Dina's words. "She said he was a calm boy, with eyes full of something strange. She'd often see him on the bus at a specific station, surrounded by his friends. They would talk about deep, philosophical things."

I thought about that for a moment, my mind racing. "That doesn't sound like the Aamz I knew at all. I thought he was all about math and computers back then."

Laleh smiled gently, as if she understood the confusion. "Sometimes, the way people are remembered is different from the way they really were."

I mulled over her words, wondering how much of Dina's memories had been shaped by her imagination and how much of them were rooted in reality.

He resurfaced in my thoughts again, both for me and for others. I despised him, but I paused for a moment to wonder: What had he really done wrong? Maybe this hatred stemmed from the fact that he was never fully resolved for me. Deep down, perhaps I never really gave him to Dina; I lost him to her. And after her, I lost him once more to someone else.

The night ended on that note. The next morning, as we drove home, Negin opened up to me about some of the struggles she was facing in her life.

She told me about the pressure she felt living in her father's conservative household, dealing with the constant expectation of wearing the hijab and...

She spoke about her younger uncle pressuring her to follow a strict religious lifestyle.

I wasn't sure exactly what to do, but I assured her that I would help in any way I could.

At home, Negin asked my mom, "What do you think about Aamz?"

My mom replied, "I wish he was more serious about life. He often found everything absurd for some unknown reason. But in other ways, he was a good boy."

Negin pressed, "What does that mean?"

Mom explained, "You know, sometimes Dina mentioned that he didn't work or study for a week because he saw a little baby girl working in the street, hurt. He told Dina, 'Life is too absurd if we can't do anything to stop seeing such things.'"

I said, "Yes, I've never heard that memory, but it's his type. He thought he couldn't talk about what he felt about such things because no one would understand, and he'd be rejected."

Mom continued, "His other flaw was exactly that. Wanting to be accepted by others. He hid his feelings and beliefs to be accepted as not too sensitive. And after Dina's plans, he learned the same thing—not just about feelings, but about facts too."

Would you like to continue from here?

For days, the thought of Aamz lingered in my mind, gnawing at me like an unresolved puzzle. It wasn't just about the past—it was about the present too. The idea that, deep down, I might still love him was unbearable. It annoyed me to the core. How could I, after everything? After all the betrayals, the losses, the years that passed?

I had built my life again. I had secured my daughter's future, strengthened myself, and learned to navigate a world where emotions were weapons and power was currency. And yet, here I was, haunted by the possibility that a part of me still cared. Not just for what he once was, but for who he had always been.

But love—if that's what it was—was no longer something I would surrender to. Not anymore.

So, I made my decision.

I would bury these thoughts, just as I had buried my old self. Aamz, Dina, Kaveh, and all the ghosts of my past—they belonged to another version of me, one I had long left behind.

I was no longer that girl. I was something else.

And this time, I wouldn't let anything or anyone pull me back.