Malika Bashir had a darkened view of the world. Ibrahim Ahmad refused to see anything but the light.
Soon, a friend from the past appears at Ibrahim's doorstep and a mysterious set of letters are left in his bedroom. Old conflicts are raised and ne...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It was a cool and pleasant day in Chittagong, the city that dwelled near the mountains. The clear blue sky stretched above as the sun glowered upon the residents. The mosque loomed in the distance, gleaming a pristine white against the polluted air.
Malika squinted in the sun as she stepped out in the parking lot. She quickly put on the sunglasses that covered half her face and tugged on the scarf covering her head to ensure it was in place. The streets were crammed, people were flocking in crowds to attend the Friday congregational prayer. She walked forward with her friend in the lead, there was a deep frown forming between her brows.
Dahlia was striding forward, the mauve pink abaya she was wearing trailed behind her, the matching scarf blowing in the wind. Malika was reluctant to leave her home given everything that was going on, but the hijabi insisted. As if sensing her hesitation, the girl halted in her steps to turn to look at her. Seeing the expression on her face, Dahlia rolled her eyes.
"Will you stop making that face?" Dahlia cried. "I told you everything will be fine."
Malika stopped in her tracks as well, her frown deepening. "You know how I feel about attending the mosque," she pouted, self-consciously tugging the scarf she had wrapped around her head. "I don't like the way the aunties stare at me."
"And why would you care about that?" Dahlia asked, raising a brow.
"It's annoying!"
Dahlia shot her a pointed look. The hijabi twirled on her feet to face her fully. "You're just worried you'll run into Ibrahim."
Just the mention of his name dropped her heart into her stomach. Malika shot her a dirty look. "You gave me your word you wouldn't mention anything about him!"
A corner of Dahlia's mouth quirked up in a smile. Malika could tell her friend was having a hard time keeping a straight face. "I barely said anything," she retorted.
Malika threw her head back and let out a groan. Even hearing his name flashed the horrible realization of her missing letters before her eyes. She was traumatized, Layla traumatized her.
"This was a bad idea." She turned on her feet to get back inside the car.
"Alright," Dahlia cried, clutching her arm gently to prevent her from leaving, that smile still etched on her lips. "He Who Must Not Be mentioned shall remain forgotten." Malika grudgingly faced her again.
"And I don't think you have to worry about running into Ibr-," Seeing the look on her face, Dahlia paused. "Sorry, 'you-know-who'," she said, using air quotes. "It's not like he's going to visit the women's side."
"Fine!" Malika said. "Now let's stop talking like I wrote letters to Voldemort or something."
The two girls started walking again, the reluctance in Malika's steps still present. "You do need to stop bringing me to the mosque," she grumbled under her breath. "I actually don't like how the aunties here look at me."
