The girl who says I'm fine

Lianne knew how to look okay.

> She knew when to smile, when to nod, and when to say, "It's fine," even when she didn't feel anything like "It's fine" inside.

> She was an impressive master of that phrase.

> If her mother asked her:

> — How was your day?

> She would say:

> — Fine.

> If Maryam asked her:

> — Are you tired?

> She would say:

> — A little.

> And if someone noticed her daydreaming and asked her:

> — Is something wrong?

> She would smile and say:

> — No.

> She wasn't entirely lying.

> She was just being concise.

> She could condense an entire day into a word, years of questions into a smile, and a need for containment into a short sentence.

> And she was brilliant at it.

> At school, she seemed ordinary.

> She would laugh with Maryam, complain about homework, forget her pen, borrow it from someone else, and then forget to return it. Maryam would say:

If forgetfulness were a subject in school, you'd get the highest grade.

Layan would reply:

I believe in specialization.

Then they would both laugh.

But when she got home and closed her bedroom door, another version of her would emerge.

A version no one knew.

She would sit at her desk, look at the page, then read the same line three times without knowing what she had read.

She would put her phone down.

Then she would go back to it.

She would turn it on.

She would turn it off.

She would lay her head on the pillow.

Suddenly, she would remember a word someone had said a week earlier.

Why did they say it?

Did they mean it?

Has anything changed?

Did anyone notice that she had gone silent?

Should she have answered differently?

And so, a five-word sentence could turn into an entire meeting in Layan's head that would last until midnight.

She thought about the things that had happened.

> And the things that hadn't happened.

> And the things that might happen.

> And sometimes, she thought about the things that couldn't possibly happen at all.

> She knew she was thinking too much.

> But she didn't know how to stop.

> And she thought the solution was to find an answer to every question.

> She didn't yet know that some questions can't be answered.

> Rather, they are left unanswered.

> And her life, without her noticing, went on while she was busy trying to understand it.

(Have you ever said "I'm fine" when you desperately needed someone to understand that you weren't? Share your feelings in the comments, and don't forget to support the chapter with a star/like if it touched your heart 💬✨)