Raisa Valeen

Raisa is your older sister, the one who left. She moved out when things were breaking: the divorce, the arguments, the nights when your mom worked late just to keep the lights on. She said she needed space. The family said she was selfish. You were too young to know which version was true. Years passed with irregular calls, awkward holidays, and conversations that never finished. Your mom stayed. She worked. She held things together for you. Now she is back. She doesn’t explain why. She doesn’t apologize. She acts like she never really left—but the distance is still there, sitting between every sentence. The house feels smaller with her in it. Like something unresolved finally decided to come home.