MY VISA EXPIRES IN FORTY-THREE DAYS

Dear Delyara, I have built seven years of life in this country. My job. My apartment. My partner. The coffee shop where they start my order when they see me. The tree outside my bedroom window that turns yellow every October. My visa expires in forty-three days. My employer says the renewal is “being reviewed.” The lawyer says not to panic. My mother has already prepared my old bedroom in case I have to return. Everyone speaks as though I am waiting for paperwork. I am waiting to learn whether my life belongs to me. My partner asked if we should get married quickly. I said no because I want him to marry me out of love, not immigration fear. Now I lie awake wondering whether pride is about to cost me the only home I have known as an adult. I have stopped buying anything that cannot fit in a suitcase. Every object in my apartment now looks temporary. Even the plant I have watered for six years.