However it goes, it ends in pain.

Chapter 3

The next morning, I wake up to missed calls from Usman. My heart is beating really fast by the time I check his messages.

'Call me back.'

'heyy'

'Are you asleep?'

'You're asleep'

*Deleted message*

I call.

It's 9am on a Saturday, Usman is usually awake early because his father is at it in the mornings. His phone rings and rings but he doesn't pick up.

I shouldn't be worried, if anything happened, Hamma would've told me. But something about his train of messages and the deleted message makes me very uneasy.

I jump into the shower, clean up my room and head downstairs, the house is already clean and there is bukhoor burning.

Saturdays are the only days I can sleep in without my mother making a big deal out of it. And I'm very surprised I slept through the morning till 9am when I slept at 8pm the night before, but I don't think too much of it.

The memory of my fight with Amira hits me in a painful wave, and chest constricts.

I decide to text her a simple hi.
I change my mind, once I say hello to my mom, I'll call her, Amira doesn't sleep in, so she's probably already up.

I take the turn from the hallway into the kitchen, the smell of yam porridge hitting my nostrils. Every Saturday, my mother makes this meal, and every Saturday, I enjoy it.

I walk silently towards my dancing mother and give her a kiss on the cheek.

'Amra!' she exclaims as if she hasn't seen me in a long time (she saw me yesterday).

'Naam Mommy?' I exclaim back, picking up an orange and peeling it.

My mother works around me for a while before she pushes me out of the kitchen, since 'I'm of no assistance' at which point my father has returned from his weekend table tennis games and I go to greet him.

My father and I aren't the best of friends. We don't fight, we just aren't close the way my mother and I are. And that's okay, at least he's not a monster like Usman's father and for that every day I thank God. 

'Is breakfast ready?' my dad asks me. Before I can respond, my mother is walking into the dinning room her merry voice going 'Yes. But you have to shower first' she pecks his cheek, and turns to me, 'Set the dinning table'

I leave my parents in the dinner room, today must be a good day, they have their moments of being cute, romantic even. However, generally, they just co-exist.

By the time I'm back to the dinner room, my mother and father are gone.

Myself and another maid, set the table- plates, cutlery, water, tea, fruits, and their meal. When I'm done, I walk to the living room, and put on the T.V. then I call Amira.

It rings, but she doesn't pick up. She must still be upset.

Before I can make it upstairs and run away from my mother and father, since now I'm upset that I've tried calling two of my closest friends and they're not picking up, my mother makes me join them for breakfast.

We eat yam porridge. My dad drinks more tea, than eats food, and me and my mother talk about my work.
My dad finishes his meal first, and remains at the table, sipping tea and reading the morning paper.

I excuse myself.

Back in my room, I scroll through my phone and contemplate calling Hamma.

He's usually sleeps late into the mornings, I try his phone regardless.

Hamma picks up on the third ring, the shock of hearing his voice makes me jump.

'Amra' his deep voice vibrates through the phone, bringing me comfort.

'Hamma, I didn't expect you to pick' I say, walking towards my window and plopping down on my matrass.

He laughs. 'I got up early to garden'

'oh. How's the bloom this season?' I know nothing about gardening.

'It's looking good! What's up, why you calling so early?'

'Amira and I had a fight.' I confess.

'Ah.' I hear him drop a tool, and take of his gloves, I guess he's done gardening. 'Zubair! Finish this.' He tells his assistant and heads inside.

After about five minutes Hamma is listening to me narrate what happened yesterday.

'I think I really really upset her'

'Well Amra, to be fair, you accused her of wanting a bad thing for you, she's your best friend, if she says something is good for you, it is probably because she genuinely thinks it's good.'

I close my eyes. And open them. 'Do you think Usman is good for me?' my breath hitches in my throat as I wait to hear Habeel's response.

He takes his time. 'Amra, I love you. If I think someone is bad for you, I'd not let them around you.' Silence. 'I think that Usman is decent, and he can give you the fiery love I know you deserve, but I do not know anything for certain, because I'm only human. I will say this though, you'll never know, if you don't give him a chance.'

'I am scared. So terrified, that I tremble when I think about how I feel for him. What if this time, I can't move on, what if I do something stupid because of a man?.' I'm tearing up now.

'Fear is not always a bad thing Amra' his voice becomes gruff, as if he's trying to manage his anger 'but I can promise you, that I won't let it get that bad again. Never.'

I don't say anything.

'Do you trust me?' Habeel whispers.

I nod. Then I remember he can't see me. 'Always'

'You don't have to think too far into the future, when the discussion comes up, we'll cross that bridge. The four of us'

'Okay' I nod vigorously, tears slipping down my cheeks. I love my friends. Habeel and I hang up a when I tell him that I've decided to drive down to Amira's house and apologize.

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This is chapter... three!

Alhamdullilah, I haven't so many people reading. Yet. but we will get there In sha Allah.

Nafisah