my sister

my platonic soulmate

I don’t think I could live without my sister.

The love I have for her makes me feel like I might burst—it rises in my chest and spills over, like sunlight breaking through at dawn. She’s more than just family; she’s my safest place, my mirror, my rhythm. And the thought of her leaving? It terrifies me. Soon, she won’t be just a few steps away—she’ll be a train ride away. It’s only a small distance now, but I can already feel the ache of what’s coming. One day, she might be halfway across the world, and I don’t know how to exist in a world where I can’t reach her in seconds.

I’m crying as I write this—the tears spill down my face, steady and unstoppable. Every time the conversation of her leaving comes up, I try to hold it together, but my body betrays me. The tears come anyway, like they have a mind of their own. She tells me to stop, gently, maybe trying to make it easier for both of us. But how do I stop mourning something that hasn’t even happened yet? How do I stop the ache in my chest at the thought of walking past her empty room, of eating dinner without her laugh echoing across the table?

She’s not just my sister—she’s my best friend. She’s the one who truly gets me, who sees past all my flaws but still calls me out on my bullshit. The one who keeps me grounded. We send TikToks back and forth all day, laughing at the same dumb videos like we share the same brain. Every birthday, every inside joke, every late-night rant—I don’t know who I am without her.

She’s my sister, yes, but more than that, she’s my platonic soulmate. Our lives are so deeply interlinked that sometimes it scares me. We say the same things at the same time, laugh before the joke is even over, send each other the exact same TikTok within seconds. It’s like we share a wavelength, a private language only we understand. She finishes my thoughts before I speak them. When she’s not around, the world feels slightly out of sync—like the rhythm is off, like I’m walking without one of my legs. How could a connection this rare not be written by Allah Himself?

I’m scared she’s going to forget about me when she leaves. I know it’s irrational—I know she loves me—but the fear still lingers like a shadow I can’t shake. We have an eleven-year age gap, and sometimes I wonder if she prefers being with people who understand her world better, who don’t need so much from her. But I can’t help it. For all 19 years of my life, she’s been my constant. Her presence has been a thread running through every chapter of my story. I don’t know how to write the next one without her in every scene.

Maybe this is Allah’s way of reminding me not to place my heart in someone else’s hands so completely. Maybe it’s His mercy—trying to loosen my grip before the separation hurts too much. But how can I help it? How can I not love her like this, when all my heart craves after a long day is the comfort of her presence? She’s not one for hugs, not big on touch, but she doesn’t need to be. Her just being there is enough. Her existence quiets the noise in my head. With her, the world feels safe again.

I know I annoy her sometimes. She tells me as much, usually with a sigh or a look, half teasing, half true. And I get it. I can be loud, clingy, too much. But beneath all that noise is fear. Not of her leaving exactly—but of her realising she doesn’t need me. That maybe, once she has space and silence and new people who don’t trail after her like a shadow, she’ll feel lighter. And I’ll be left behind, still loving her too much, still waiting for the next message, the next moment, the next reminder that I still matter.

I am grateful that Allah, in His mercy, decreed our two souls would meet in this life and be stitched together by a bond so rare, so deeply felt, that it sets us apart. I know not everyone gets this—this ease, this comfort, this quiet kind of love. I pray, with every ounce of me, that my sister and I are reunited in Jannah, in a place where no distance or time can ever come between us again. But until then, I beg Allah not to write her absence into my life too soon. Because if she goes, if she’s truly gone, I fear my heart will splinter into a thousand pieces. And I don’t know how to put them back without her.

My sister deserves the world. And even though I know I can’t give her that world, it’s okay. I’ll cheer her on from the sidelines, even if it breaks me a little. I’ll be the soft landing if she ever needs one, the familiar voice she can always come back to. Because all I want—all I’ve ever wanted—is for her to be happy. No matter where she goes, no matter how far she drifts, I’ll keep loving her from wherever I am. Quietly. Fiercely. Always.

to be loved by me is to be known by all.

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Thank you for reading the tides between 🌊 ! This is a really vulnerable thing for me to post but my sister means the absolute world to me.

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with love always,

Halima