3rd person pov
Nyara carefully dressed Iyla in a long-sleeved shirt, ensuring the fabric covered the constellation of stars on her arms. Iyla, perched on the edge of the sofa, watched the television, her eyes wide with innocent wonder. Nyara, her expression a mix of vulnerability and resolve, turned to Halle and Sarai, who were seated at the kitchen table.
"When I was born," Nyara began, her voice low and steady, "my parents thought my birthmark was some kind of sickness. They took me to countless doctors, but they all said the same thing: it's just a big, weird-looking birthmark."
She paused, her gaze dropping to her hands. "Nobody outside of my family knows about it. It's always felt like a burden, something I have to carry my whole life. People judge, they pick, and I've always tried to hide it. That's why I cover Iyla's, too. I saw how people reacted to hers, the same way they reacted to mine. It's my fault she has it."
Nyara's voice trembled slightly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don't know if it's genetic or what, but they're just… unique birthmarks. And they've only ever brought me negative attention."
She looked towards the living room, her gaze softening as she saw Iyla. "Guys, please stop staring at Iyla's arms. She knows you're staring, that's why she keeps looking at me like that."
Nyara's voice grew sharper, a protective edge creeping in. "This is why I didn't want anyone to see them. Now, that's all you're thinking about, isn't it? I know they look like the stars and moons in the sky, but please, just treat us like normal people. Just… forget about the birthmarks."
Her voice cracked, a tear escaping and tracing a path down her cheek. "I just want her to have a normal life. I don't want her to go through what I went through."
Halle reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on Nyara's arm. "Nyara, we're not judging," she said softly. "We're just… surprised. They're so beautiful, so unique. We didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
Sarai nodded, her eyes filled with empathy. "We're sorry, Nyara. We didn't realize how sensitive this was for you. We won't stare anymore. We promise."
"We just thought they were cool," Halle added, her voice gentle. "We didn't mean to upset you."
Iyla, sitting on the sofa, could hear her mother's voice, though she couldn't make out the words. She glanced towards the kitchen, her brow furrowed with concern. She could tell her mommy was upset. She could hear the quiver in her voice and wanted to run to her. She looked back at the tv trying to focus on the show.
Nyara wiped her tears away, taking a deep breath to compose herself. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I just… I want to protect her. And I want to protect myself. I've lived with these marks my whole life and I'm so tired of the stares."
"We understand," Sarai said, her voice sincere. "We really do. And we'll respect your wishes."
"Yeah," Halle agreed, nodding. "We're here for you, Nyara. For both of you."
From the shadows across the street, Kail watched. He stood concealed behind a cluster of trees, his gaze fixed on the window of Nyara's apartment. He saw her talking to two other women, their voices muffled by the glass, but their expressions clear.
He watched Nyara's face, a complex tapestry of emotions flickering across her features. He saw the vulnerability in her eyes, the tremor in her voice. He saw her protectiveness, her fierce love for Iyla.
He couldn't hear the words, but he could feel the weight of the conversation, the unspoken tension that hung in the air. He saw the other two women, their expressions shifting from curiosity to empathy.
He felt a pang of something he couldn't quite define, a strange mix of protectiveness and a desire to understand. He wanted to shield Nyara and Iyla from any pain, any judgment. He wanted to know the source of their vulnerability, the reason for the sadness in Nyara's eyes.
He watched as Iyla sat on the sofa, her small form barely visible from his vantage point. He saw her glance towards the kitchen, her brow furrowed, her eyes filled with concern. He felt a surge of protectiveness for her, a fierce desire to keep her safe from any harm.
He wanted to be closer, to hear their words, to understand their story. But he knew he couldn't. He was a shadow, an observer, a silent guardian. He could only watch and wait, his heart aching with a strange, unfamiliar longing.