The Girl Who Writes On Maple Leaves

One chance

POV : Hamza Ali 

We moved from Pakistan it's been like one month and i miss my country , running through old streets with my friends playing with kites and running to catch them.Their laughs still echos into my heart and mind. It was part of me. 

Everything ended when  my mum - actually she was my dad's cousin but she acted with him like her sister and she grew me up when my mum left us for another man - to save me and my dad,  , she told us to go  , in Canada , without telling us the reason she just told us to go and we took the first plane. I missed her so much and i hoped she was ok , far there where no she had no one.

The principal of my new school accepted to take me for 2 reasons:

number 1 : i had excellent results 

number 2 : she was a good friend of my mum.

"I know your mum very well. We were college best friend , but since a lot i don't see her she only send me letters and i am always happy to answer her cause we used to have this habit when we where at college that once a week we have to write to each other a letter telling what is happening in our life ue that we where big fan of belle epoque and a series called Bridgerton on Netflix" she said laughing , but i didn't smile and i think she noted it cause both her and my dad stopped. I was't in the mood and i wanted to distract myself by studying.

"I want to go in my class and follow my lessons. I am not in the mood of laughing or wasting time. If please you can bring me where i have to go"i said and  my dad looked at her embarrassed .

She smiled embarrassed , "I see that for his eight years he seems older",

"Eight years and a half" i said , 

"Ok let's go then little one" she said before standing up and doing sign to follow her.

I promised myself to don't get attached to someone here in this school cause i was scared to leave here too so no attachments.

I entered my new class as in that american movies where the actor enters in slowmotion , you know what i mean right? I raise my eyes and crossed her eyes , a her that i don't know her name yet , but for the first time after a month i smiled. 

I laughed even more when the teacher put me in the duo group with her for our similarities, and her expression, Qadira's expression , was priceless. 

Daisy  my heart said  that will be the name i will call her. At eight years old what does a boy can understand about feeling something for a girl , i know , but she was just like a disney princess.

Ew is too cheesy even for me , but i want to be beside her, even if her foxy hazel/ amber eyes says the opposite. 

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POV : Qadira Khan 

I spent the next hour of the lesson, that used to be my favourite lesson , in agony cause i felt his eyes on me all the time.

Do you want a selfie ? I was about to say .

"Hamza , don't worry if you are a bit late , Qadira will show you the last topics we did and will introduce you to the groupwork ok ?"

He said yes with his head.

"You are from Pakistan , maybe for your culture, you don't know love stories " ,

"Such as Arabian Nights where an adorable girl named Shahrazad wants to save the girls in her town from the Sultan  Shāhriyār , persian king , by telling him incomplete stories until dawn just to make him curious and don't let him kill her and at the end he falls in love with her?" he says and all the class stays in silent and i look at him shocked. It was the first time in my life that a boy knows stories like that , great classics i mean.