Two Brothers, One Heart

Part 2: Chapter 38

"Firdausi, you have to eat," called out Ummita through the locked door while holding the tray of mouth-watering yam with scrambled eggs and fruit juice.

Firdausi could smell the tantalizing aroma of the food seeping through her door, yet she remained lost in her abstract painting, oblivious to the outside world.

Seated by the window, bathed in the morning sunlight that streamed in, she was engrossed in her art. Clad in a short dress with a cream apron splattered with paint, she continued to create, her emotions reflected in the strokes of her brush.

Tears silently trickled down her cheeks, blending with the vibrant hues on the canvas. Her painting became a fusion of colors and emotions, a reflection of her inner turmoil.

"Firdausi, what are you doing?" Zaynab's authoritative voice pierced the air, breaking the silence. Despite the hunger gnawing at her, Firdausi remained silent, absorbed in her creative sanctuary.

"You can't just stay holed up in here forever, Firdausi. You gotta grab some breakfast," Zaynab's voice echoed through the door, her knocks adding urgency to her words.

"Firdausi!" Islam's gentle voice chimed in, tugging at Firdausi's heartstrings. "Please, open up. Are you alright?"

"Alright, I'll let you in, but only you," Firdausi finally relented, her voice muffled by the door.

"Okay, pinky promise," Islam reassured. Firdausi took a moment to freshen up, attempting to conceal the telltale signs of fatigue under a veil of makeup, a futile effort against the weight of her emotions.

With a heavy sigh, Firdausi opened the door, allowing Islam in, while Zaynab lingered outside. As Islam placed the tray on the cherry desk, Firdausi's facade crumbled, tears flowing freely as she embraced her sister, releasing the emotional flood she had been holding back.

"What's the matter, Fir?" Islam's voice was filled with affection as she gently caressed Firdausi's back, offering comfort. "What's going on?" she inquired, gazing into Firdausi's captivating eyes with concern.

"Did he break your heart?" Islam scrutinized Firdausi, trying to decipher the source of her pain.

"No, I ended things with Mubarak. I couldn't ask him to stay," Firdausi lamented, her shoulders trembling as she leaned into her hands, tears flowing freely.

"Tell me everything, Firdausi," Islam urged, crouching beside her and placing her hands on Firdausi's lap, a gesture of support and understanding.

"Well, there was this opportunity for him from the NBA to continue his basketball career in Massachusetts and..." Firdausi's voice trailed off, the weight of her decision evident in her words.

"So you encouraged him to go?" Islam probed, hanging onto every detail of Firdausi's explanation.

"Yes. I just didn't want to be selfish, and I can't handle long-distance relationships," Firdausi emphasized, a hint of resignation in her voice as she shrugged her shoulders.

"It's alright," Islam reassured, rising and enveloping Firdausi in a comforting embrace as she wept.

"It didn't last, maybe it wasn't meant to be," Firdausi's words lingered in the room, filled with a mix of sadness and acceptance.

"Or maybe you both just need some time, Firdausi. Just take a breath," Islam advised gently. "You're a young woman on the brink of success; there's no rush. Your paths might still intertwine. If you're meant for each other, nothing can stand in the way."

"Your sister's spot on," Zaynab chimed in, standing by the door in her Ankara skirt and peplum blouse, exuding elegance with her turban-style hijab. She looked ready for a meeting, radiating grace and strength.