Measure Success [Hakim Ziyech]

Chapter Eleven

Note: Souhaila is 20 in autumn 2014

21 (almost 22) in spring 2015

22 in summer 2016

Chapter 11

It Is Not Happening

*~*~*

How much worth do a person's promises have?

Usually, these pearls of wisdom were passed along by Rashid Hayat. However, for this particular one, he wouldn't get credit. Because it was his wife that had shared this with her daughters, one day.

They'd all been younger with Yousef a baby still. Rashid Hayat hadn't been home, though Souhaila didn't remember where he'd gone. It wasn't important, anyway.

They'd all been huddled around their mother, all four siblings, in their parents' bedroom. As per usual back then, Souhaila and Hafsa had begged their mother to tell them a story and she'd done just that.

Souhaila didn't remember what story Rashida told them on that day. But she remembered that her mother had been sad. And it had something to do with Rashida's father. Even back then, Souhaila had been attentive enough to realise this.

The story had long finished and Hanan's eyes had started drooping when her mother had asked that question. She'd had that absent look in her eyes that Souhaila hadn't known quite how to place it back then. But she had recognised that tone of voice as the one that her mother used when she didn't want them to answer her question.

She just wanted them to be quiet. And listen.

Souhaila had met Hafsa's gaze and, as required of them, they'd both silently waited.

Well, the answer was,

As much worth as the person gives them by proving their worth. Their truth.

In conclusion to this, Hakim Ziyech's promises were worth nothing.

One could go as far as to claim that Hakim Ziyech had proven himself to be a liar.

But Souhaila hadn't believed him to be...she did not believe him to be.

Hakim Ziyech wasn't a liar, Souhaila was convinced of this.

He would come. Why else would he have told her as much? She hadn't forced him into anything. Not even pressured him, right?

No, he would come back. She knew this.

*~*~*

Autumn 2014

Berkane, Morocco

Souhaila needed to stop counting the passing time in summers.

As a matter of fact, she should stop counting at all.

Stop waiting for someone that, realistically, might not even come.

But she couldn't.

It was hard even to admit the truth to herself. It was hard to admit that she might very likely not get what she wanted. Especially, because it had been within reach...soooo close.

To admit, that now it was gone. Or worse, consider the possibility that maybe she had only been fooled into believing that that something had been there to b-...no.