However it goes, it ends in pain.

Chapter 3

I clean Jamal's toe wound as his mother scolds him.

He doesn't say anything. Doesn't offer an explanation, an apology, he doesn't squirm under the touch of the surgical spirit on his injury.

Usman pulls his mother away to calm her down. And when Adija returns with my water, she doesn't look surprised, so I assume she knew this had happened.

'What happened?' I ask him looking up from his toe. He pulls his leg away as fast as he can, and after a once over, gets up from the edge of the couch and walks away.

'Jamal.' Adija warns her older brother.

'Thank you.' He mumbles before disappearing.

'What happened?' I say to Adija. We're both packing up the first aid kit.

She stops and looks at me. As if contemplating if she should tell me.

'Our dad.'

I don't ask further questions.

Usman's father. Adija's father. 'Jamal's father. Umna's husband.

I am beside with rage. What type of father beats his child to injury.

When we finish packing up the kit, Adija leaves the living room with it. Probably to replace it.

And I head to the direction I watched Jamal head to. This door leads to a small bush where old furniture lies around. I find him on one of the sofas.

I sit adjacent him. My back to the shallow sun.

'Does it hurt?' I ask.

The look on Jamal's face makes my cheeks heat up. He doesn't want to talk. Fine.

I don't say ask him anymore questions. Instead, I talk. I talk about how it might rain. And how much it used to rain in UK. I talk about my class. My nursery class. I talk about Fatima in particular. Her shy persona and intelligent mind. I talk about Abdulqadir's ADD. And Khadija's talent for numbers.

'I'm good.' I shock at Jamal talking to me. His voice is kind but deep, no longer laced with annoyance. And his forehead lacks the lines he had; his leg is no longer bouncing.

I nod in response.

'Amra' Usman calls out approaching us both. 'There you are' a quick peck on the check.

'Here I am' I blush. I find pecks intimate. Intimacy in Jamal's presence was not on my to-do list today. Then again, neither was fighting with Amira, or cleaning up Jamal's wound.

'Hey' Usman.

I turn to look at him. He looks bothered. We'll speak about that later.

A moment passes and I decide to give him some time with his brother. I get up walk around the chair to where Usman is standing in his white shadda, the front slightly creased. Only slightly.

'I'll give you two some space.'

He pulls me to him. A kiss on the side of my forehead. 'Thank you. For everything'

I nod. 'Go on. He needs you.'

I go back inside, sighing from the long day I have had.

The living room is quiet. And I feel awkward. I don't know what to do.

If Amira and I were friends. I'd call her. She'd know what to do. What to say to me. Or maybe not. I just want my best friend. It hurts so much.

My best friend coming into my home and revealing that she loves my boyfriend hurts. but it's not my fault she kept her feelings a secret. I had no idea. Not a doubt. I keep thinking about different times, and nothing comes up in my head, nothing indicates that she was in love with him.

Now I am getting upset. Getting angry. She doesn't get to be upset with me. I am so confused on how to feel. So, I settle for anger. She hid this from me. She walked into my home and disrespected me.

Usman and Jamal walk back into the living room. They both look pissed. I don't say anything.

'I'm going to take Amra home and come back.'

'I can take an uber its fine.' Usman looks at me, like I insulted him.

'Common.' Is all he says and we head out, my sympathetic face the only goodbye to Jamal.

'Umna—'

'She won't want to see you right now.' Usman cuts in.

I hum. Because the air feels so delicate, like words could shatter it.

I don't know what to do. Or say. It feels like today is the worst thing Usman's father has ever done.

Throughout the ride, I try to stay as still as I can. I stare so hard at Usman's knuckles; I memorize the pattern on them. Next, it's the rings. And I go back and forth between them.

When we get to the front of my father's house, Usman does not honk. He parks his car, taps his fingers on the staring wheel as he leans his head on the head restraint behind him.

He is in pain.

With a sigh, he looks at me. There are tears in his eyes, they're waiting to escape, but he blinks them away.

'Talk to me' I whisper.

'I'm sorry for today.'

'I don't need an apology, Usman. Tell me what happened. Let me in' the biggest struggle with Usman is getting him to talk. I understand if we'd just met. But this is a man I've known for six years. You'd think by now he'd be okay talking to me.

His silence is my answer.

'What do you need?' It's a question I often ask my friends, an attempt to give them the support they need and not what I think I should give.

'Some alone time. I'll call you tomorrow.' The finality in his tone stops me from begging him to let me in. So, I give him a peck on the cheek; his eyelashes come down on my nose. Lingering a bit long. And exit his car.

I've never told anyone. But whenever a person I love pushes me away. It hurts me. I find myself gripping on to anything to savor our friendship. I want to be let in. And the irony of it is, I don't let people in. Ever.

My chest heaves as I feel a tumble of pain in my chest. The knot forms in my throat. The sting of tears appears.

What does this mean for Usman and me. His refusal to let me in feels like a rebuttal. Like a punishment for a flaw in my behavior.

In the room, I collapse on the floor, and place my arm on the edge of the bed. I beg the skies to allow me to cry. But the tears don't fall. The stay lodged in my throat, painful and piercing. Begging to be let out. I try so hard; I think of all the sad things I can think of. I think about my father, his unkind words, of the student I once lost, I think of Ahmad. Even then the tears don't fall. The lump in my throat doesn't subside and my chest doesn't hurt less.

As if aware, the skies breakdown. Heavy rain drops pelt on the roof of the house, the darkness comforts me, and in no time, I drift to a dreamless sleep.

It's the first time I've given thought of Ahmad since the day. 

HI! 

Surprise early update because we didn't have last week. 

So I know I said that we were gonna see a lot of Usman's family, but sometimes my writing plan does not come to fruition. My fingers to do the work. 

The next couple of chapter are gonna be sad... brace yourselves. 

Nafisah.