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I woke up to the sound of a knock on the door. I dragged my groggy self not bothering to adjust my veil which most definitely have fallen off while I was sleeping.
"Ayan what time is it?" I mumbled to the silhouette after opening the door.
"It's fahaad. And it's 4:58am" the calm velvety voice that reached me instead of my brother's clear one, did the wake up call for me.
I released a shriek, unwittingly slamming the door on him.
What is wrong with me!
I touched my hair only to realize it was completely on display.
How in the world...
I took a minute to compose myself, dragged my hijab that was in close proximity, then opened the door again.
"Sorry" I sheepishly stated my eyes downcasted. I could have sworn I had the slightest chuckle from him, yet I was too embarrassed to confirm.
"It's fajr. We'll pray in the living room. Come down when you're ready"
Once he was out of sight, I released a breath I had no idea I was holding. It was like I could finally breathe again.
Well, I better not keep him waiting.
I was beyond excited at the thought of hearing him recite Quran again. If I had a choice, I'd choose starting my every day with just his voice.
I finished whatever I had to do before making my way down the stairs to where he already set the prayer mats at the Qiblah.
Upon my arrival, he commenced the Salah. Sooner than we began, it came to an end much to my dismay.
"You should freshen up. The car would be ready by 5:45." He stated immediately after making his morning du'a.
I opened my mouth to address his still dull mood only for him to stand up, totally ignoring me and walked away.
With a groan, I dragged myself back up. I couldn't get him. Even if I was wrong, couldn't he correct me in a polite way like a conversation. And I'm the child in this relationship!
I grumbled every two to three minutes about the situation I landed myself in with just a wrong question.
Anyone would have asked that! I don't want to be a liability!
I groaned again after the thousandth. I missed Ayan. I missed waking to a hug from my brother. And I missed my phone. Come to think of it, I don't remember bringing my phone along with me. It must be at home- Ayan's home now I guess.
I didn't know the time, so to be on the safer side, I waltzed downstairs with my one small box cladded in an abaya, one of the many Milan bought for me.
I curled myself in a seated position on the mat in the empty living room waiting for fahaad. It gave me enough time to think further what ruined his mood.
YOU ARE READING
Elhaam!
General FictionThe scars in the lives of the trio was nothing in comparison with anything possible. At such a young age, they've had to face the troubles life threw at them, each step of the tougher than the former. Building trust along the way, who betrays and w...