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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~ Alstroemeria: A strong bond ~
Rameez has been awfully quiet for the past couple of hours.
I know he said he would give me space and allow me to think about our conversation, but I didn't realize how attached I've become to him and his constant texts and check-ins. Restlessness consumes me all morning as I reread our past conversations to bring myself some semblance of comfort.
It feels as if a storm is brewing around me. Rameez is giving me space, his twin and I still aren't speaking, Ihsaan and Aneela's situation is troubling me, and on top of it all my heart has decided it feels some kind of way about Mikaal Zaman. The last one has been bothering me so much, and normally Abeer is the one I turn to for matters like this, but as I can't do that, I had desperately confided in Aneela. And even though she's the sweetest person ever and talked to me at length about it, it wasn't the same as ranting to Abeer. No one can replace what I have with her.
I have the strongest urge to sit in the middle of the storm brewing around me, wrap my arms around my legs, and simply rock back and forth like a baby. All the fight has left me; I don't have the energy to do anything.
But Ihsaan said he would practice driving with me today. And if I refuse, he'll know something's up, since I was the one who requested him to accompany me.
I knock on his door after dhuhr prayer. His loud "Oh, shoot" startles me; I hurriedly open his door to see what's wrong.
He removes his headset and sets his Xbox controller aside, and I let out a sigh of relief. Yells and PG-13 curses were commonly heard from Ihsaan's room before, but it's been so long that I'm unused to the youthful spark in his eyes as he turns from his screen to me.
"You killed me, Hayat," he grumbles.
I raise my brows. "Maybe you're just out of practice."
He rolls his eyes. "Ha ha."
I watch him carefully, tracing his carefree expression and relaxed posture. He doesn't seem to be faking nonchalance, but with Ihsaan nothing is ever as it seems. He's become too good at pretending everything is alright.
I fold my arms and lean against the doorframe. "You owe me something."
His eyes flick to the clock on his table. "Oh, shoot, you're right. I lost track of time. Let me pray dhuhr and then we'll head out, okay?"
I nod and head downstairs. Ihsaan arrives fifteen minutes later, eyes oddly red and puffy as he throws me a lighthearted smile. I don't comment on it, and together we don our coats and bid our parents goodbye.
Due to disuse, the Volkswagen Bug Arafat gifted me is parked behind Ihsaan's car at the back of the driveway. Ihsaan tells me to wait as he pulls his car out of the driveway and parks it behind Papa's car, then jogs back to me.
