hen loneliness embraced her or whenever darkness of nights engulfed her, several unanswered questions would suffocate her. She would wonder for the nth time why her little sister, Naomi, hated her; ignored her would be appropriate she would correct herself.
The stiff child she gave birth to? The doctor’s statement that she can never bear another child? Her husband’s premature death? The failed attempts for re-marriage? The loneliness that conquered her forcefully?
She didn’t know why…
Nothing was her fault after all.
I still love you, she would whisper to the air hoping that it would carry the message to Naomi.