22. The Masks We Wear

Rima’s POV

I woke up with a start, the dawn barely breaking outside. A cold dread flooded my veins as the reality of the day set in. My heart pounded against my chest, a wild and panicked rhythm that echoed the fear coursing through me. My mouth felt dry, my tongue sticking to the roof as if I had swallowed a desert. My palms were slick with clammy sweat, a stark contrast to the chill that seemed to have seeped into my bones. The room spun around me, my stomach churning with nausea.

Dragging myself to the bathroom, I looked at the mirror, my reflection staring back at me with hollow, terrified eyes. I splashed icy cold water on my face, hoping to douse the furnace that blazed over my skin. But the heat remained, a cruel reminder of the anxiety ripping through me.

I stared at my reflection again, my eyes haunted and uncertain "I can't do this" I moaned, the words slipping out in a defeated whisper. My head dropped, heavy with defeat and disappointment, my g