The Woman Who Was Almost Me

The weekly trips were exhausting. The long hours on the road, the constant packing and unpacking, the feeling of never fully settling—it drained me. But despite the fatigue, life had a structure now. A routine. And that, in its own way, was satisfying.

I had grown closer to my mother and Negin. They were my circle, the only ones I truly trusted. But Darya? She remained distant. A presence, nothing more. We never fought, yet we never really spoke either. It was better that way.

Negin, on the other hand, had blossomed into a sharp, curious teenager. Full of questions. Too many questions. And the past? She was obsessed with it. Specifically, with Dina.

One evening, as we sat in the dimly lit living room, she said, "I want to be a writer. And I want my first book to be about Aunt Dina."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why Dina?"

She smiled, eyes sparkling with admiration. "Because she was amazing. She was strong, kind, and she fought for what she believed in."

I felt a slow, creeping rage crawl up my spine. Amazing? Kind?

That woman—who had used me, manipulated me, treated me like a tool for her own desires?

I took a deep breath, keeping my voice calm. "And what do you know about her?"

"I know she was passionate. She cared about people. She wanted to make a difference. I've heard stories from others, and they all say she was incredible."

Stories.

That's all they were. Carefully crafted stories that erased the truth.

I forced a smile. "Write what you want."

But in my mind, I thought: Do you really want to know the real Dina, Negin? Because if you did, your little dream would shatter into pieces.

I decided then—if she wanted to write about Dina, she would hear the truth. Not the legend. Not the fantasy.

The devil in me was ready to speak.

I didn't want to go back. The past was a place I had buried, a graveyard of memories I refused to walk through again. But Negin? She wouldn't stop.

Her curiosity was relentless, her questions endless. Every time I tried to dodge them, she came back with more. It wasn't just about writing a book anymore—it was as if she was searching for something, trying to piece together a truth that no one had fully given her.

Maybe it was time. Time to face it, to finally put everything to rest—not just for her, but for myself.

After another late-night conversation filled with her insistent questions, I leaned back, exhaling slowly.

"Alright, Negin. You want answers? Then we'll get them the right way. We're going to Laleh. She's the only one who can help us review things properly."

Her eyes lit up, a mix of excitement and anticipation.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yes. But be ready. You might not like everything you hear."

She nodded, determined.

And just like that, the past—the one I had locked away for so long—was about to be reopened.

Finding Laleh wasn't difficult. She had never been one to disappear, unlike so many others from my past. But preparing myself to meet her—that was another challenge. I wasn't just walking into a conversation. I was stepping back into memories I had spent years trying to silence.

Laleh was still the same in many ways—strong, independent, and fiercely self-reliant. She had built a life for herself without needing anyone, standing apart from the chaos that had consumed so many others. She lived alone, worked alone, and seemed to carry an air of quiet resilience, as if nothing in the world could shake her.

I had always respected that about her. But now, I needed more than respect—I needed the truth.

As I stood outside her door, I took a deep breath. Negin was beside me, her youthful excitement contrasting with the weight pressing down on my chest.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

I wasn't sure. But it didn't matter. I knocked.

Laleh opened the door, raising an eyebrow as she saw the two of us. Then, without a word, she stepped aside, letting us in.

The past was waiting.

After the initial greetings, Laleh leaned back in her chair, studying me for a moment before speaking.

"We'll need a lot of time to go through everything," she said matter-of-factly. "There's too much to unpack in just one conversation. But I'm alone here, and honestly, I'd be happy to have you around whenever you want. So, when do we start?"

Her directness caught me off guard, but I appreciated it. There was no hesitation in her voice—no awkwardness, no unnecessary formalities. Just a simple offer.

I glanced at Negin, who looked eager, almost impatient.

"Now," I said. "We start now."

Laleh nodded, as if she had expected that answer. She stood up and motioned for us to follow her into the living room.

"Before we dive in," she said, pouring tea for all of us, "tell me one thing—what exactly are you looking for? Answers? Closure? Or just a way to rewrite the past in your own mind?"

Her question hung in the air. I wasn't sure how to answer. Maybe it was all of those things. Maybe I just needed to know that I hadn't been imagining everything—that my version of the past wasn't just a twisted, bitter memory shaped by pain.

I took a sip of tea, gathering my thoughts.

"I want the truth," I finally said.

Laleh smirked. "The truth," she repeated. "Alright then. Let's begin."

Laleh sighed, stirring her tea slowly as if trying to pull memories from the past.

"You already know the truth, Dorsa," she said, her voice calm but firm. "But maybe both of us have pieces of the story the other doesn't."

She leaned back, her eyes distant as she started to recall.

"The first time I saw Dina, she was new to our school. She had no friends, and the other girls were already whispering about her. She wasn't just any transfer student—she had been expelled from the Elite School and ended up with us."

Negin, wide-eyed, immediately jumped in.

"Expelled?" she repeated, her curiosity piqued.

Laleh nodded. "Yes. But no one really knew why. The rumors were endless—some said she had problems with authority, others claimed she was caught doing something serious. But Dina never talked about it, and no one dared to ask directly."

I sat quietly, absorbing her words. That part of Dina's past had never been clear to me. I knew she was different from the start, but I had never questioned how much of that difference came from something deeper, something already broken before she even entered our lives.

"Despite everything," Laleh continued, "she didn't try to fit in. She didn't beg for acceptance. If anything, she made it clear she didn't care. But I saw something else in her—something vulnerable, something that made me want to talk to her."

I could almost picture it. Dina, standing alone, surrounded by whispers but acting like she didn't hear a single one.

"And that's when you became friends?" I asked.

Laleh gave me a small, knowing smile. "That's when everything began."

Laleh took a sip of her tea before continuing, her eyes lost in the past.

"Soon, I started noticing something strange about Dina," she said. "During class, while everyone else was taking notes or following along in their textbooks, she would be reading something else—books hidden inside her schoolbooks."

I frowned. "What kind of books?"

"At first, I had no idea," Laleh admitted. "One day, I decided to find out. I casually sat beside her and caught a glimpse of the pages. They weren't school-related at all. Novels, philosophy, even psychology books—far beyond what we were being taught at that age."

Negin's eyes lit up with curiosity. "So, she was secretly studying advanced subjects?"

Laleh nodded. "Yes, but the strange part was how much effort she put into hiding it. I asked her why she did that—why not just read them openly? She hesitated before answering. Then she quietly said she was afraid her father or the school might forbid her from reading them."

I felt a strange tug in my chest. That was so Dina—always secretly chasing knowledge, but always expecting someone to take it away from her.

"And did they?" I asked.

Laleh exhaled. "Her father? No, I don't think he knew. But the school… that was another story.

Laleh smiled faintly, lost in the memory. "Soon, we started working together—sharing books and ideas. In my house, reading was completely free. My parents never restricted what I read. But Dina… she was different. She always had the money to buy books, but she didn't have the freedom to read them openly. So, we found a system."

"What kind of system?" Negin asked, intrigued.

"During school hours, Dina would read as much as she could, absorbing every word. Then, before the day ended, she'd pass the books to me, and I'd take them home to read at night. The next morning, we'd discuss everything—what we learned, what we agreed with, what we didn't. It became our routine, our secret world."

I crossed my arms. "So, you two were inseparable even back then."

Laleh chuckled softly. "In a way, yes. We balanced each other out. She had access to books, and I had the freedom to read them without fear."

Negin looked thoughtful. "That actually sounds kind of beautiful."

Laleh sighed, leaning back slightly. "That was the simple beginning of our deep friendship. Dina had almost no other friends. It wasn't that she was rude or difficult—actually, quite the opposite. She was kind, even gentle in her own way. But for some reason, other girls often had a bad feeling about her."

Negin frowned. "Why? If she was kind, then what was the problem?"

Laleh hesitated for a moment before answering. "It was... something about her presence. She never tried to fit in, never played along with the usual schoolgirl games. She was different—not in a loud or rebellious way, just in a way that made others uneasy. And when people don't understand someone, they often push them away."

I nodded, understanding all too well. "So, she only had you."

Laleh gave a small, sad smile. "Yes. And for a long time, I was enough for her. We were always together, sharing books, thoughts, and ideas."

I had gathered more details than I expected. Pieces of Dina's past were falling into place, but they still didn't fully explain the person she became later in life.

As our conversation wound down, I noticed the distant look in Laleh's eyes, as if she, too, was lost in the past. Negin, on the other hand, was still full of questions, eager to know more. But for now, this was enough.

With a deep breath, I leaned back and exhaled. "I think we should stop here for today."

Laleh nodded, a hint of exhaustion in her voice. "Yes, we've covered a lot."

The three of us sat in silence for a moment, each processing the memories in our own way. Then, slowly, we moved on to other topics, as if carefully tucking away the past for another time.

And just like that, the conversation ended.