Inked Sapphire (Dear Dahlia Season 3)

14

Laiyana slipped on her gloves. “Be careful,” Inaya called. Laiyana nodded, then stepped out of the house.

Snow covered the ground in a fine blanket of white. Naima waved at her, dressed warmly in furs. “Come on!” she called, and Laiyana ran to catch up with her.

The adults stayed inside, but the other children were playing. Snowballs were thrown, and snowmen were built. Naima grinned at Laiyana. “Let’s make snow angels,” she said.
Laiyana let out an excited squeal. The two lay on the ground and began to move their arms and legs. Snow continued to fall on them.

“Isn’t this great?” Naima sighed. Laiyana nodded happily, then sat up. Some snow fell on her, and she yelped before shaking her head. White sparkling things fell from her hair onto the ground.

“Look! They’re holding hands!” Naima said as the two viewed their snow angels.
“They’ll be together until it thaws,” Laiyana added, and rushed away. Naima ran after her.

The snow continued to fall. It glittered in the sunlight. Laiyana and Naima sat under a tree, watching the other children play.

“I hope we’ll be together in the spring,” Naima said quietly.
Laiyana’s heart thumped in her chest, like a bird that beats its wings before it takes flight. “We will,” she replied, confused by her friend’s somberness.
“You want to be a dressmaker. And I…I don’t know what I want to do.”
“You will know,” Laiyana assured Naima. “In time.”

Naima brushed away the snow to reveal the green grass underneath. Her breath came out in plumes of air.

“I will know,” Naima said. “But it might not be good.”

Laiyana looked at her, puzzled, but Naima didn’t elaborate. And so, the two best friends sat side by side as uncomfortable silence settled over the trees.

The next month, black ice covered the pavement. Laiyana peered out the window and put on her gloves.
“Be careful,” Inaya spoke once more. The twelve-year-old looked back at her mother. The firelight cast shadows over her face whilst she sewed. Laiyana didn’t say anything; only nodded and left.

It was cold. Laiyana wrapped her cloak around herself as she approached Naima, who was waiting outside. She was shivering. The girl wrapped her arms around her friend to keep her warm.
“I have something to tell you. We’re…moving away.” Naima squeezed her eyes shut. Laiyana’s eyes widened. “What? When?”
“Soon. By spring, we’ll be gone.”
“Why?” she asked hopelessly.
“Mama thinks this place is stifling. She…she wants to see what’s out there.”
“Look at me,” Laiyana said. “Naima.” She shook her, but Naima did not open her eyes. Laiyana thought about the shadows flickering across her mother’s face, the whispers from the other children. Suddenly, the village felt very small, like a cage.
“Naima, please,” Laiyana begged. “Look at me.”
Naima’s eyes shot open. She met her friend’s gaze once, then glanced away. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

Anger suddenly rose up in Laiyana. “You could have told me earlier.”
“And what would you have done?” Naima suddenly snapped. “Panicked? Begged me to stay?”
The girl blinked. “I-”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything.” Naima’s voice dropped to a whisper. Before Laiyana could reply, Naima turned her head away and disappeared back into the house.

Laiyana stood there, trying to understand why Naima hadn’t told her. She glanced at the other children. They were watching her, whispering. Putting her hood up so they wouldn’t see her tears, Laiyana made the trek back home, the pavement stretching before her like a never-ending road.

Halfway, the girl started to cry. Her only friend was leaving her, it was cold, and there was black ice on the pavement. Maybe I should wait out here, among the dead trees and howling wind, Laiyana thought. Surely, they will not miss me.

A rustle came from the bushes. Laiyana spun around to find a Ravkan girl her age with a small nose, green eyes and blonde hair watching her. Laiyana had never seen a Ravkan before, so she just stared at her for a few moments. Then, the blonde opened her mouth.

“I have watched you,” she said, voice lilting like music. “I will help you.”
“You…You know?”
“I do,” the twelve-year-old stranger spoke. “How horrible it is, when someone abandons you. How hard it is to say goodbye.”
Laiyana stayed silent.
“We can surprise her before she leaves. We can come up with a game.”
“A game?” Laiyana’s eyes lit up. She did like games.
“A game,” the stranger smiled, and held out her arm.

Laiyana hesitated for a few moments. The breeze blew a bit harder. She looked at the stranger’s sincere face, then placed her hand in hers.

_

Rahim stood in front of the memorial and stared at it. Countless families were visiting to lay flowers at the bottom of the headstone that named all the victims of the library’s fire. He tried to feel relieved that his daughters’ named weren’t written there, but all he could think of was how so many people had lost their siblings, parents and children. He lay two roses on the memorial, then stood up and left.

There was a certain strangeness about this place. It was like with the fire, everything about the library had been burned away. It was no longer nostalgic and quiet, but instead the charred remains of something that used to be better. Rahim placed his hand on the brick and didn’t mind the people glancing at him as they walked past. He sighed softly, then muttered his ancestress’s name. “Why did they write about you?” he whispered.

There was no answer.