WrongSufferedAtHands

2.

Afiyah's light hazel orbs were secured on the window that casts squares of white upon the wall of the classroom; her intellects were engaged in exceptional thoughts. As recess rolled around, the classroom was less congested with students than the cafeteria and playground.

The shrieks, roars and the hollers of students were faint over her breathing; she could hear her pulse pounding into her ear.

"May I have a seat beside you?"

The impulse to respond fell flat the instant she looked up on her way to the custodian of the melodious voice. Her eyes glistened with glee as they rested upon the most endearing face she'd ever seen.

Hassan, the boy she fancied all over the school; the brains of her school.

His eyes were a flicker of delight over an amiable smile; his sharp jaw line and shoulder blade spoke of strength, his deep-set, dark-brown eyes bore straight into her soul.

"May I?" With the most delightful repetition imaginable, he stated his request again.

"Please take a seat." She shifted on the double seat bench to render room for him, "I wish for you to feel comfortable."

"I promise to. Well, as you know, I've been abroad, and I was looking for assistance with the chapters, which I feel, you can deliver." He licked his full lips that couldn't prevent Afiyah from sneaking glances down at them.

"Me? I assumed you were the smart one here. She teased as she attempted to take a gander into his eyes; those eyes granted laze to her core, her entire being was bashful.

"I know though." As he toyed with the coarse texture of the wooden table with his finger, he stifled a chuckle. "I'd welcome your assistance, and I'm extending it; please accept it."

"And what if I don't?" She was trapped in those irises and couldn't get her bearings.

"You will. I'm certain."

And as if those words were an authoritative command, she complied.

Afiyah never overlook the frisky looks Bushra and Eshaal gave her anytime they perceived them side by side; in class, on the playground or in the hallway, they were always wedged up against one another, as if glued.

Time drifted away as if a raging river and their bond grew deeper, they were acknowledged as friends; they disclosed the type of friendship that knew no boundary lines whenever it came to provide solace to the other.

Hassan, slowly but surely, drew Afiyah to himself; his kinesics, his fashion of talk, or his manner of ensuring the safety of her caused trouble for her to maintain a decent distance from him. She understood it wasn't just a crush; it was something altogether else, More than she ever could have anticipated.

She was unable to deny how admiringly Hassan was observing her. There were numerous times when she caught him staring at her, waving it off with you're staring and compelling him to shift his gaze with a sly smile that blew dazzling fireworks into her heart; she was in love, and she was well aware there was that same desire Hassan did feel about her as well.

It was at recess—the one and only short window of time throughout the day when they were free to exchange words about one other—that the sweethearts sat on a bench in the far corner of the playground. Afiyah seemed a little out of character when Hassan observed at her; she was sweating more than normal, her hands would get icy cold, and she started to whine about her erratic heartbeat that bothered her most of the time. She grew concerned about nothing; s he ought to have been alright based on Hassan's preview.

"Afiyah..."

She murmured a faint yes as a response; her field of vision was secured on the notebook resting upon her lap where she traced the pen against the roughness of the paper.