𝓜𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂, 𝓶𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓯𝓮

5# UNREST

THE KHALIL RESIDENCE,
ASOKORO.
DECEMBER, 2020.

It was a few minutes past midnight.

The town of Asokoro had gone to sleep, an occasional snore or two could be heard from the neighboring houses.

The night was still, almost undisturbed if you wouldn't count the unrest in the Khalil residence.

Ayman, sitting on his bed with his head held in his hands, was the picture of confusion.

How could he rest? How could he even think of it when his head was swarming.

He stood up from the bed, paced around the room for a few minutes before returning to the spot he'd left.

His father's words continued to replay in his head, memories of a time that once was, accompanying them.

The picture of the Jamilah he remembered flashed across his mind.

The first memories being the ones from their childhood. In his head, he was playing with Jamilah, a smug look on his face as the girl followed him around.

She was like his little tail, following him everywhere he went. She was always there with him, the most beautiful little girl he'd ever seen, her hair done neatly in two big braids that fanned her nape, coming to rest well below her shoulders.

Her eyes were big and bright, the whites as white as snow, and the brown, a light honey colour that seemed to sparkle. Those eyes were always on him, assessing his movements, watching in admiration.

Even at that age, Ayman could feel pride well up in his chest. This girl that everyone admired, this brilliant little girl liked only him.

Jamilah had been five then.

A few years later, the girl had grown, matured into a teenage girl. The twelve year old Jamilah had grown, still brilliantly beautiful, moreso than ever, even.

This Jamilah didn't follow him around mindlessly anymore. She was always with her nose in a book, but Ayman could always feel her eyes follow him from the top of the hard cover. The girl was always alone, and it seemed she liked the silence.

Ayman wasn't blind, he wasn't oblivious to something, someone that held such beauty, within and without. He found his eyes straying towards where she sat quite ofen.

She was always in a spot, on an orange chair that was just outside the room their parents had their meetings. To her back, there was the sound proof, opaque glass that separated them from their parents.

To her left, Jamil would always be at a table, sketching things, landscapes most likely.

The both of them never disturbed each other, they never really even spoke, each in their own little bubble.

Some time after, Jamilah stopped coming.

Ayman didn't understand why, at the time, but the meetings were becoming less interesting for him. A week or so after Jamilah, Jamil too stopped coming.

Ayman still stuck around for a while, probably a month or two after that, hanging out with the other guys, before he too, stopped coming.

The next time he saw Jamilah, seven years had passed, his father had taken him along for Jamilah's graduation.

He was in his second year of uni then, while Jamil was in his final year, preparing for his finals and project.

Nineteen year old Jamilah literally seized his breath away.

The girl had grown even more, and although Ayman had never considered the thought that beauty grew exponentially with age, Jamilah certainly made the thought cross his mind.