Faith

•Chapter 2•

To your right (or above if you're on a phone or whatever) is a picture of Zaidan who is modeled after Imran Abbas
NASIHAH'S POV
My little sister opened the door of my bedroom where I was organizing my stacks of books. I turned and smiled at her.

"Salaam," I said. She closed the door and slammed her body onto my bed, spreading her dark hair all over my orange bedsheets.

"I'm too tired to reply." Her voice came muffled.

I sat down next to her and began stroking her long waves, putting them back into an orderly fashion.

"Why? What's wrong?" She turned over so she lay on her back and stared at the ceiling.

"I was up all night studying. I don't want to be a pharmacist anymore. Too much work," she groaned.

"Oh, it's not that hard, Amaani. Look at me, I'm a pharmacist and I'm not dead yet," I laughed.

"Yeah, but you're smart and you graduated early and-"

"Nasihah! Amaani! Come downstairs now!" our father roared.

Amaani jumped up and quickly exited my room with me following. Our father, in Mother's words, was a difficult man who we best listen to if we didn't want to suffer. Over the years, however, even listening to him made him angry which in turn, hurt Amaani and me, mostly me.

"Yes, Abba?" I panted. I am too out of shape, I thought, running down stairs shouldn't wipe me out.

"Where were you?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Amaani and I were talking upstairs in my bedroom."

"You know that we follow strict rules in our home and you know that you are to wake up at 8 and come down for breakfast at 8:30."

"But Abbu," Amaani stepped in front of me, "it's only 8:35. We're not even that late!"

"Don't raise your voice at me," he yelled.

Amaani looked at the floor and didn't say anything.

"Please don't yell at Amaani," I said. "It was my fault. I'm sorry."

"I know it's your fault. You are the eldest. Amaani has no faults here." I saw his hand raise; a familiar yet overwhelming fear filled me. But in the few seconds there were between my father's hand and its impact on me, Amaani intervened again. She quickly grabbed his arm.

"Amaani-" he began, seething.

"Abba please don't," she begged. "Nasihah is supposed to take me to the pharmacy she works at so I could... so I could see how she works."

My head snapped up sharply at Amaani's lie. She never lied to our father, or in general. Abbu met her eyes then mine before unhinging himself from my little sister's grip.

"Get out. Both of you."

The two of us raced up the steps again. "Did you just lie to Abbu?" I whispered.

"Yeah, I did and I know it was wrong but I hate seeing him hit you."

A little flick of weight burned in my heart like a candle's flame. It made me so happy to know someone did love me. I smiled lightly as I went to my bedroom to change.

~
Amaani came into my room ten minutes later wearing a black skirt with floral print, a black long sleeved T-shirt, a light pink hijab, and black wedges.

"Hurry up, Nasihah, or Dad will get suspicious."

"Yeah, just wait..." I mumbled, not paying attention. After I finished applying the tiniest bit of kohl, I stepped back and looked at myself if the full body mirror.