Part 2: Chapter 78

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Firdausi found herself overwhelmed by the chaos caused by Farhan, Amir, and Adil, along with Yasin, who were dashing around the house like energetic puppies. Their exuberance resembled relentless waves, disrupting the peace. As she lay on her bed, struggling to find sleep, she gently placed her Chelsea jersey over her heart. Clad in her usual cami and baggy jeans, she noticed her perfectly flat belly as she rested.

Umar made the tough decision to end the relationship as Nadia's feelings for Saifullah were deep-rooted, and she wasn't prepared to let him go. Despite his love for her, she saw him more as a brother figure than a potential husband. Firdausi couldn't help but shed a few tears for Umar, feeling immense sympathy for his heartache.

A knock at the door broke the silence, "salamualaikum." Firdausi recognized Ummita's husky voice. Ummita's voice had a mysterious allure, contrasting with her modest demeanor.

"Wa alaikumusalam," Firdausi replied groggily, hastily donning her Chelsea jersey. Its scent carried hints of sweat and the sweet burnt sugar perfume she had secretly borrowed from Islam, though most of it was her own perspiration.

"Aunty Madina wants to see you. She came, I wanted to visit her", she said.

Firdausi had a keen eye for seeing through Ummita's excuse; she knew Ummita's real intention was to catch a glimpse of Mubarak, not just to visit Madina. Mubarak was the talk of the town, admired for his sculpted physique, always on display in his basic tees, along with his towering height as a basketball player.

"Sure, I'll catch up with you guys, I'm coming," Firdausi assured as Ummita left to give her privacy to change. She sifted through her cluttered closet filled with football club jerseys and scarves, all emitting a distinct odor except for the Barcelona jersey. After donning it, she swapped her attire for khaki palazzo pants, adding a hijab and glancing at her reflection. The ensemble made her appear tall and unconventional, a look she embraced. Flora would sometimes playfully refer to her as Miss Strange when they enjoyed okra soup with bread.

Descending the stairs, she encountered the boys engrossed in a PlayStation game, while Maryam, Najwa, and Zaynab tended to the flowers, with Habibah possibly upstairs with Islam. The noise grated on Firdausi's nerves. "Eww, people!" she thought as she made her way to Madina, seated with Ummita in the corridor.

"Salamualaikum," Firdausi greeted as she approached Madina and Ummita. Madina quickly pulled her onto her lap, treating her like a child of ten. Firdausi couldn't hide her discomfort; being treated like a child despite being an adult was not her cup of tea.

"Wa alaikumusalam! Our baby girl," Madina exclaimed with a nostalgic tone. "Look at you, all pretty and grown-up. Feels like just yesterday we were building sand castles and dancing in the rain with Mubarak."

Firdausi, catching the drift of the conversation, remarked, "Time really flies, doesn't it?" as Madina subtly hinted at Mubarak's lingering affection. With a casual scratch of her eyebrow, she suggested, "Let me grab us some zobo. Mama made a lot, and I know you'll love it."

"Absolutely, Zaynab is practically family to me," Madina called out, while Firdausi was bustling to the kitchen to prepare the zobo and samosas. The mugs were lined up on the wooden tray as she poured the chilled zobo, adding a generous serving of warm, microwaved samosas.

Zaynab, ever the efficient one, swiftly got her jotter, pen, and measuring tape, promising the girls their dresses in two days. Excitement filled the air as Najwa cheered, "Yaay!" and Maryam requested a stylish peplum blouse in a peach Ankara fabric with a paisley design.

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