This is an edited version of this story, but not entirely revised. 

After years of being separated by distance, Kathlyn was with me at last. This girl I've known for years but not seen. Only used to being comforted by her words on a screen and texts that spammed our secret hieroglyphs. Kathlyn's text messages were little gifts that lit up my day, but to have her here with me was infinitely better, no doubt. The only trouble was that she wasn't here for me. I was merely a helping hand, secretly fawning over her and selfishly inviting her to stay with me for as long as she needed.

From the moment I picked her up from the airport, all my senses were star-struck. She dazzled over Egypt, marveling at our surroundings as we drove by. She took tons of pictures on her phone, wrote notes, and scribbled nonsense on her notepad resting on her lap. Everything was a dream to her, but to me, she was my dream.

"Do you like it here?" I asked. From the corner of my eye, I saw her nod aggressively.

"I do, so much! I can't believe I'm here for a whole month traveling around one of my favorite places and writing all about it! It's my dream coming to life!" she gushed. "Everything is so beautiful. The trees, the people, the sights, the smells."

I chuckled. "We just left the airport, you haven't seen anything yet."

"I know, it's so exciting. And your accent is so cool," she said, still looking out the window. "I like it. I wish I didn't have such a boring American accent."

"You don't sound boring, you sound lovely," I replied, stealing a glance at her. Her hands combed through her hair and I caught her blushing.

"I'm glad you don't think I sound stuck up," she laughed lightly, looking down at her lap and brushing hair from her face. "Thank you."

With her attention focused on Egypt, I soaked in her floral scent and watched her smile light up her face. I caught myself staring more than I should, but she never seemed to notice.

Kathlyn was much prettier in person, gorgeous even. I fantasized about the way her long hair would feel between my fingers, and how her thin chocolate strands would wrap around my fingertips. I even thought of how her hand would fit perfectly in mine, her small, pale hand against my tan flesh. Hers was probably soft but boney, cold to the touch. I clenched my hands on the steering wheel to restrain myself from holding out my hand to grab hers.

Deep down, guilt bubbled inside me. I've been a liar, but I don't just lie to her, I lie to myself. I've buried the notion of finding another love again. Yet here I am, imagining waking up with Kathlyn right beside me looking up at me with loving eyes, and wearing a ring that matched mine.

Right on cue, Kathlyn turned to face me. "So how's your wife? Is she watching the kids now? I can't wait to meet them!"

"No. She's not with them, my mom is watching them until we get back." I swallowed hard. "In fact, you won't see much of my wife."

"Oh no, why not?" She asked, snapping some more pictures.

"Well, it's because," I breathed in deeply, "she died two years ago, right before our twins turned three. I'm sorry I never told you."

"Oh my God, Mahiar, are you okay?" she asked intensely.

"I am a lot better than I was, thank you. Don't worry too much about it, Kathlyn."

"That must've been a lot. I'm really sorry. You don't need to apologize for that." She sighed, pushing her glasses over her head to rub her misty eyes. "I wish you told me this before, it explains a lot, but I understand. Just know you can trust me with anything and I'm here for you."

I guess when she said it like that, it made everything seem so easy, but when is it ever that easy? There was more to tell, but I held back like the selfish man I am. Because I can't lose her too. So I played this game in my head. A past-present-future mixup with my senses all twisted. I create my reality based on these mixups in my head, mostly consisting of fantasies and what-if scenarios.

I'm in denial, that much is certain. Or maybe I'm utterly crazy. To push away what I feel because of a person I sometimes pretend is still alive when I'm down. My wife is on a business trip, I think, a long business trip. Or she's with family, seeing a friend, or spending a long day in the office. Whatever the case, she has to come back, she will come back. But she never comes back, she won't. And I need to come to terms with it. To set her free.

This was the world I live in. But it wasn't in an alternate universe where I fell for Kathlyn. It was here and now, so I needed to learn to let go. To heal from the pain, but also accept that another love is possible. To stop fighting myself and accept these truths:

My wife is really gone.

I've been in denial about it all this time.

I'm falling in love with my best friend.

Still, even after admitting my wife's death, I allow these fantasies to plague me. The merry-go-round spins and all I can do is wait for the moment I get sick from the ride and watch it spill out of me.

After the dreadful confession, the tension between us grew. Not the bad kind that pulled us apart, but the good kind that created a magnetic force and brought us closer together. Because of it, I let my guard down. It was an accident, a mishap between my mind and lips.

It was a few days later, after a wonderful evening of pyramid sightseeing and long walks. We rested outside on my balcony, tea in hand, while my boys played nearby with legos and their imagination. The steam coming from the cup fogged up my glasses and every sip was filled with sweet honey and warmth. The air was crisp, not a single cloud covering the starry sky, truly a perfect night.

I took another long sip of tea, the intense smell of mint tickled my nose and the warmth soothed my mind. I licked my tea-stained lips and grinned, watching my little miracles.

"You know, my boys love you." I chuckled, remembering her lifting them in the air pretending they were Superman, and reading them stories of mystery and adventure. Of course, the language barrier was an issue, but that never stopped any of them from having the time of their lives.

"Oh trust me, I love them too! Ahmed and Rafal are so adorable." She beamed and sipped some more tea from her mug. Her cheeks flushed against her milky skin, so much lighter than my own, and she wore it well.

"But they still don't know what to call you yet. Just a bunch of nonsense they make up," I said.

Her ringing laugh filled me with joy, light as a bell. "That's okay. We'll have them saying Auntie Kay in no time."

I set my mug down and cleared my throat, "I think they'd rather call you something else."

"Oh? Like what?" Her bewildered glance roamed over mine. The ocean crashed in her eyes and my breath caught for a moment.

"Mom."

Her smile faded and she looked away from me. "What does that even mean?"

"It means exactly what it means." A horrible choice of words, but they kept flowing out of my mouth before I could filter them.

"You must know, surely you do, that I've taken a strong attraction towards you. After I confessed my wife's passing I realized-"

"Just stop," she said. "I'm never going to be the woman you lost. I'm far from her. So please, don't try and replace her with me, okay?"

"Kathlyn, that's not what's happening here."

"You can't possibly care about me in that way. You just like that your boys can finally tolerate someone other than yourself." I saw the waves in her eyes coming to flood all my happiness. It shook me to death. It baffled me how she was unaware of my affection for her, but then again, I was unaware of them myself. Still, she had to believe she was completely and utterly desirable.

"You don't get to decide who I love, Kathlyn." I bit my tongue. As quickly as the tsunami formed, a rainstorm swiftly took its place. Watching her eyes swell with tears broke me faster than glass hitting concrete.

"I don't understand you, Mahiar," she grips her mug with both hands. "I've known you for years now, you're my best friend. We met by chance when I was eighteen on some stupid writing app and became writing buddies from across the world. That's it! Nothing more," she breathes deeply. "Now I'm supposed to believe you suddenly feel this way for me after seven years? Is this some kind of joke?"

"I don't even believe it myself, but what I feel for you is far stronger than I could've ever imagined." The silence that followed was so extremely uncomfortable that it made me itch for answers.

"Do you not feel the same? Do I mean anything more to you than a friend?" I asked, pleading with every part of my heart. Her face never waivered to look at mine. "Please, I need to know. Could you ever find yourself being with me?" I could feel myself crumbling into despair all over again, bit by bit.

Her gaze finally blinded me. I could see my reflection in her eyes when she finally stood up, wet lines streaked down her face, the aftermath of a silent storm. I had the strongest urge to rush to her side and wipe all her tears off her face, but I sat frozen in my seat, a crumbling mess.

"It doesn't matter what I feel. I'll never be her," she took her mug and walked away.

Later that night, after I had tucked my boys into bed, I found Kathlyn asleep on the couch. She wore her pink and purple striped pajamas, snuggled under my beige wool blanket. I carefully sat down next to her on the couch, watching the light from the TV illuminate her face. Her large glasses sat crookedly on her nose and drooped over. Even after our confrontation on the balcony, I smiled. I carefully removed them, letting them rest on my lap.

Time droned on, and I split my attention between the TV and her. I stayed frozen, scared to wake her up, and stared at her gingerly. Then out of nowhere, her head slowly slid from the cushion and fell on my shoulder. I was expecting her to wake in horror, but instead, she greeted my arm with a hug and didn't let go. Part of me worried this affection was crossing a line, but a larger voice in my mind was selfish and craved this desire to be wanted.

This allowed unwanted emotions to seep into my mind. She was right, our culture was different and she was eight years younger than me, it would never work between us. At least that's what I kept telling myself. But even with the seas and miles in the way, I've managed to fall for this fragile girl next to me.

While she was finally at ease, I could study her. I memorized the hue of her dark chocolate hair and pictured her small ocean eyes hiding behind closed eyelids. Her fair skin and petite figure reminded me of delicate porcelain. She was a cute little thing, but too fragile. Extremely breakable, both physically and mentally.

But those were some of her beautiful imperfections that were easy to see. They freckled throughout her personality. She was flawed but made no effort to hide them. Within the first few minutes of being with her, you could spot at least three of them: her lack of self-confidence, her uncertainty, and her overthinking mind. But that took courage, and bravery beyond comprehension, to be unconditionally herself. She's human yet beautifully divine. She's unapologetic for being who she is, but completely unaware. That's what made her so unequivocally attractive and irresistible. If I had to choose between all her good qualities, that's the one I loved most.

But though I may love her, that may not be my role for her in this lifetime. Maybe I'm meant to be her protector in another way. To support her, be a shoulder to lean on. What if she sees me as her brother from another world? Maybe if I was somehow still in my twenties like her, could she feel something more? Who am I to her but a close friend? Would our differences find a way to break us apart? What would she even say to her family? Distant as they are, they still would care about what she did. Not to mention leaving her whole life in America to move across the world. Would Egypt be too much of a culture shock for her? No, no matter what, it was impossible.

Still, there's no doubt she was a blessing to me, but she was also a burden I had to carry too. Willing I did, because how could I not? Kathlyn was a weakness of mine, she could make or break me. All I ever wanted was to see her happy, to pray that one day someone would care for her the right way and her tears would be of joy and not of grief.

And I thought of her precious soul, delicate china born into a world full of nasty bulls. Now she had to learn to face these evils with her frail heart. If only she knew the wounds she's dealt with so far were only paper cuts. A taste of what's to come. If only she could keep her innocence for longer. She wore it well, it complimented her. If only she knew life would eat her alive and spit her back up. What would she be then?

This is why she needed a protector, someone to stand by her and love and preserve the goodness in her. But who would help her? Guide her? The family that abandoned her? Those worthless little boys that followed her around like lost puppies? What she needed was a real man fit to be by her side.

Then a sudden fear churned in my stomach, that her soul may not be able to take life's beating. Her serious demeanor alone is treated as a joke. Her heart and soul were too pure. She's treated like a child because her innocence is intact, breathing.

The worst part of all sat in the back of my head and made my mouth dry now. It's the truth; I could not protect her forever. I could not save her from every bullet life shot, no one could. So I may lose her. Lose her bright eyes and excited smile. The animation in her voice. Because life is not forgiving. Life isn't fair. I hope for once, for her sake, for mine, that life flows a little more smoothly with her, she deserved it.

Kathlyn breathed in deeply once, and in response, I yawned. I let my eyes slip closed for a moment until a sound snapped them open again.

Kathlyn stirred against my arm, her sleepy face squinted up at me.

"Mahiar," her brows creased together and her lips stayed slightly parted. "Wh-what are you doing?" Her cute groggy voice brought a ghost smile to my lips.

Despite all my overthinking, I knew that no matter how much I tried to convince myself I was okay being just her friend, I knew I was not. So I gave in, ignoring the lies I told myself, and finally allowed myself to try and be happy again.

"I'm holding you," I looked down at her as my arm moved to cradle her softly. "Is this okay? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Are you?" Her concerned expression triggered something in me. I wrapped my arms around her reassuringly.

"When you're here with me, I'm perfect." I watched her half-sleeping face smile, I gave her one in return.

Her head rested on my shoulder again, her eyes drifting closed. But before she surrendered to the doors of sleep, her voice trailed into a whisper that blew away my fears.

"I'm perfect here with you, too. I never want to leave."

Finally, I could now be at peace.

Revised 1/13/2023