Yusra: Don't hurt me in the way I cannot even recover.
Shazal: Do you not realize, there's no one but you for me?
Daniyal: She let the tears fall, but it weren't for me.
Zumar: You fall in love and then, fall out of it.
It's not that big of a deal.
...
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๑ 🥀 ๑
T
o trace the origin of her burgeoning feelings, she found herself unable to recall precisely when it began.
Perhaps it was the first time she witnessed his smile.
His usually impassive face, reserved for family alone, suddenly lit up. Little giggles slipped through his lips blossoming into a radiant smile directed solely at her. He was attempting to stifle his amusement, embarrassed for her in front of her newly made friends.
They were merely eight years old then.
It occurred on a day when she had tumbled face-first into the muddy backyard. The memory was vivid because she had felt so proud of how pretty she looked in her sky-blue frock, with cute space buns styled by her mother.
He found it even more amusing, and she couldn't tear her gaze away from him as she realized what had just happened.
Or perhaps it was the moment he offered her wildflowers as an apology when she began to cry. The gesture immediately silenced her.
Though her mother scolded her for spoiling her favourite dress, the loss was overshadowed by the beauty of those multicoloured blooms.
This was when she first started to admire flowers.
Or maybe it was when she had a quarrel with a boy in her primary class, and he stood up for her. He chased the boy away, only to call her silly afterwards, grumbling about how she always picked fights with those out of her league.
Or perhaps it was when she heard his father call is mother 'Silly,' just as Shazal often addressed her.
They all knew it was not mentioned as an insult; it was rather a fondness.
After all, women, for their men, are made to be pampered.
And even if Shazal used it to mock her she never took it that way. Her teenage, delusional mind had begun to wonder if they might share a similar bond in the future...ridiculously giddy.
As the years passed, they both grew and so did her feelings. Each small gesture from him was like a droplet of water nourishing her parched heart, helping it flourish and grow...
Yusra sits cross-legged on the field near the basketball court, her back resting against a rock on the cool, damp grass. A dark blue stole covers her head, perfectly complementing the simple off-white abaya she wears making it appear light golden as the late afternoon sun casts a glow over everything.
Syrine, her classmate, lounges beside her fiddling absentmindedly with a blade of grass. Dressed in a soft lavender sweater and khaki pants the brown girl sighs heavily. "I can't believe we have tests so soon after college starts," she grumbles, her brows furrowing. "It's like they want us to fail before we even get a chance to settle in."
