From Aliya to Hafiz

Six.

Hafiz.

When night arrived, I was sure I wouldn't be able to fall asleep. Whether due to jet lag or just being in that woman's space.

But I slept surprisingly well.

I of course blamed it on the fatigue from the flight and my heightened emotional state since I came to this stupid place.

Waking up at around six in the morning, I changed out of my pyjamas and dressed in black running clothes and headed downstairs. The house was quiet and the only source of light was from the brightening sky.

When I reached the living room, it heard low voices coming from the door by the landing and out of curiosity, I opened it slightly and peered inside.

Stunned, I looked at the two figures laying with one against the other.

Father was sitting with his back to the wall and had his arms around that woman who had her back to his chest. It seemed she was reading the Quran to him or something as the warm light bathed them in a soft blanket of warmth.

For whatever reason, that scene made me dumbfounded and I found myself staring. What was it that made them give off such a peaceful vibe?

Muddled, I closed the door softly and took the door leading to the garden. There was something stirring in my chest that I couldn't quite place.

Seeing as I saw that woman first thing in the morning, I would take it as her fault. What right did she have to look so at ease when she ruined more than two lives?

It was shameless.

Cussing her under my breath, I walked down the garden to the gates of the house. Thankfully, the area wasn't filthy or dilapidated so I had my run in peace.

Except for the occasional residents who came out to jog, I didn't see anything unpleasant or dirty.

Thank fuck.

On my way back, I stopped at a cafe I saw when I started running. The place was themed a nice shade of grey and scented like bread and cake.

The place was empty save for the black man standing behind the counter and going through his phone. When I reached the counter, he looked up and then he was staring at me with eyes and mouth open.

Disgusted by his fascinated gaze, I said, "the menu."

"Oyinbo."

"I'm sorry?" I frowned.

The man laughed loudly, and when he spoke, he was definitely feigning an accent. "Sorry, sorry. I'll give you the menu."

Irritated, I said nothing and just made a gesture to hurry him up.

Looking even more tickled, the man said something under his breath as he reached under the counter and pulled the menu out.

"Here you go! Order whatever you want! We have everything on ground!" He said loudly, as if I had a fucking hearing problem.

Snatching the menu out of his hand, I took a step back and looked down only to grimace at the stains on the cardstock, some even fell on the words, blurring them out.

Suddenly questioning the hygiene level of this place, I looked around but couldn't find anything questionable. Not wanting to even see something that would make me lose my appetite, I decided to just order to go.

There was no way I was going to eat anything cooked by that woman. Yesterday didn't count because I overheard her telling Aliya she would be the one cooking alll through the day.