Eighteen-year-old Hayat Amanullah has it all: a loving family, a carefree life, and a future at the Ivy League school of her dreams. But her perfect life shatters when her oldest brother suddenly dies in a car accident. The tight-knit Amanullah fami...
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~ Dandelion: Hope, healing, and resilience ~
I'm in a garden full of dandelions. Strange, since it's still November, but this is a dream, and anything is possible.
Rays of sunlight dance across my vision as I shield my eyes and squint across the field. A lone figure is sitting at the far end, and something propels my feet towards the figure.
As I approach, I hear the sound of rushing water and realize the field is overlooking a cliff face. I spin in a circle and take it all in for a moment, peace settling in my heart at the light breeze and the glittering sunlight and the rustling dandelions accompanied by the sound of water.
When I turn back to the cliff face, I stop short, heart thumping rapidly against my chest. Because the figure sitting at the edge of the cliff is as familiar as the reflection I see in the mirror every day.
He's wearing a clean white shirt and trousers and gazing into the rushing water below, but I can see his side profile. Brown waves fall softly against the back of his neck, his face sports a neatly trimmed beard, and the hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.
"Arafat?" I whisper breathlessly.
He turns and my breath catches in my throat, tears immediately welling in my eyes. The ghost of a smile on his face blooms into a grin, and my heart aches so bad that for a moment this feels too real.
"Hi," I say shakily.
"Hey, yourself," he replies. The sound of his voice is the most comforting thing ever. His eyes—his familiar, beautiful brows eyes—twinkle as he pats the space next to him. "Come sit."
With trembling limbs, I settle down next to him. I hold my breath, afraid that if I speak too much or jostle too much, he'll disappear.
"You're so quiet," he murmurs conversationally.
I turn to him, inhaling sharply when our eyes lock. "I've missed you so much, you have no idea." My voice breaks as I whisper, "I need you so much. We need you so much."
Arafat shakes his head, a strange smile on his face. "You don't need me anymore. You just miss me."
"That's not true. I—"
"It is," he insists, and for a moment I think he's upset until I see the content expression on his face. "You didn't even need to hug me right now. You've grown up."
His words throw me off momentarily. "I didn't touch you because I'm afraid you'll disappear. And I can't stand losing you again."
He laughs, loud and boisterous. I miss the sound so much that fresh tears prick at my eyes. "You don't give yourself enough credit. You're stronger than that."
