Laila—that is what the villagers called her. Her full name was Laila Jamilah, though she was more familiarly known simply as Laila. She possessed a stunningly beautiful face; her cheeks held a natural pink flush—not from makeup, but from the healthy glow of physical activity—and her skin was fair and smooth, unblemished save for a charming beauty mark above her lip. Her large, captivating sea-blue eyes (enhanced by contact lenses) complemented a high, well-defined nose. She had inherited this beauty from her Arab mother. Her warm, affectionate nature and ready smile, combined with her striking looks, made her a woman who was physically near-perfect.
Laila worked as an elementary school teacher. Her gentle and attentive demeanor endeared her to all her students, who often surprised her with gestures of affection on her birthday. Her fellow teachers also held her in high regard—not because of her position, but because of the wisdom she displayed during coordination meetings with parents.
Laila was also a literacy advocate; this was evident in her routine of opening a free reading corner at her home for local children after school. Through her steadfast commitment to literacy, she hoped to instill a love for reading and books in every child in the village. The reading corner she established became a favorite haunt for the village children, whether during school holidays or in the afternoons after classes ended. Furthermore, she tirelessly taught villagers who could neither read nor write, including those lacking basic numeracy skills. Her friendly attitude and genuine concern for the local youth earned her the respect of the entire village.
Laila led a very ordinary life, with days filled by activities that were positive and beneficial to others. Everything seemed perfect—until one day, her life changed drastically. On a day that should have been filled with joy—her wedding to the man she loved—the event was abruptly cancelled due to a tragedy: her fiancé was involved in a solo accident while en route to the ceremony.
Since that fateful day, Laila—once admired for her character, demeanor, and flawless beauty—began to change. The cheerfulness and warm smile that used to grace her face vanished; the sparkle in her beautiful eyes slowly dimmed, and the glow of happiness faded from her features. Day by day, her body grew thinner and weaker from a lack of food, forcing her to make repeated trips to the local health clinic just to receive IV fluids for dehydration.
The villagers—as well as the parents whose children frequently visited the Reading Terrace—were at a loss as to how to bring back the Laila they once knew; many could not hold back their tears or find the words to speak when they visited her.
Her fellow teachers at the school faced a similar struggle; they had tried everything to comfort her, but to no avail. No matter what efforts her colleagues or the villagers made, she responded only with a faint, hollow smile—as if her life force were dimming and on the verge of fading away completely.
Her noble mission—teaching and guiding the children at the reading terrace—was now forgotten. The students' enthusiasm for learning at school was no longer the same as it had been when Laila taught them. Her reading terrace fell into disrepair; the books, once cleaned weekly, now lay neglected, coated in fine dust and lizard droppings. There were no longer any children in the village reading books.
***
"We must be patient and not lose hope," said the psychiatrist and psychologist as they handed the sedative medication to Laila's parents.
"But for how long?" Laila mother asked, tears streaming down her face.
"We will pray and keep trying together. It is not easy to heal someone suffering from heartbreak compounded by a sense of loss," the psychologist replied.
Physically, Laila was not ill at first; only her heart was wounded. Yet, as time passed, the anguish in her heart and the loss of her loved one slowly eroded her physical health. That loss seemed to transform Laila's life completely. Her world had once revolved around the small garden behind the house, the rolling tea plantation hills, the reading terrace where she gathered with the children, and the school. Now, her world was confined to the house and her bedroom.
She used to be a teacher whose presence was eagerly awaited—guiding children at the reading corner and helping villagers who lacked basic literacy and numeracy skills. Now, her days are spent pacing the living room, watching television with a vacant stare, and weeping until she falls asleep from exhaustion. Her beautiful, captivating blue eyes are gone, replaced by eyes red and swollen from crying all night long.
Often, while in the teachers' lounge, they would discuss ways to rekindle Laila’s spirit so that classroom lessons could run smoothly and the students would remain enthusiastic about learning.
"What else can we do to cheer Laila up?" asked a teacher during the break.
"I don't know. I'm at a loss, too. It feels like we've run out of ideas. I can only hope Laila returns to her old self. It is for her own good and for the good of our school," said the Principal.
"The children she used to teach seem to miss having a teacher like her. Should we look for a temporary replacement?"
"Yes, we will look for a substitute teacher for the time being, until Laila recovers," said the Vice Principal.
"Loss often changes a person's life. Especially when losing someone deeply loved; it feels hard to accept the reality of it. Even more so when that loss is permanent, occurring on a day that was supposed to be filled with happiness," said Angel, a colleague of Laila.
That is the reality of it. When someone suffers heartbreak, they tend to retreat to the bedroom—not out of sleepiness, but out of a desire to escape reality. When someone loses a loved one, they may be adept at making peace with others, yet often find themselves at war with themselves. That is how love, longing, and loss transform a person's life.
Even though Laila eventually recovered, a part of her was lost—a part that, in all likelihood, would never return.
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