VULNERABLE

AHMAD AND QATAR

ARMAAN

Taking Ahmad to the airport felt more like an obligation than a gesture of brotherly love. He had always been different, not the golden child, but still a significant presence in our family. I couldn’t say no when Ummi asked me to drive him there, even though our relationship was strained at best.

Physically, Ahmad was a carbon copy of Baba—broad shoulders, a strong jawline, and deep, piercing eyes. His hair was a lighter shade of brown, which only added to the resemblance to Baba.

As we drove, the silence between us was thick with unspoken words. Ahmad had spent most of his life away from home, either serving as a copper or now, preparing to leave for Morocco to meet with Baba. He wasn’t particularly thrilled about it; neither was I.

"You’re headed to Morocco, huh?" I asked, more to fill the silence than out of genuine interest.

"Yeah," Ahmad replied, his tone as detached as ever. "Baba has something lined up for me. Not that I have much of a choice."

"Sounds...interesting," I said, struggling to find the right words. "You excited?"

He shrugged. "It’s just something I have to do."

I nodded, focusing on the road. Our conversations were always like this—short, stilted, and painfully awkward. It was as if we were strangers forced into brotherhood by circumstance rather than bond.

When we finally reached the airport, Ahmad grabbed his bags and turned to face us. Ummi was already out of the car, her eyes filled with a mix of emotions—pride, concern, and something I couldn’t quite place.

"Take care, Ahmad," Ummi said, her voice soft but firm. "Remember to call when you land, and stay safe."

"Yeah, I will," he replied, giving her a brief hug. "Don’t worry too much, Ummi."

Ummi smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I always worry. It’s my job."

Ahmad then turned to me, his expression unreadable. "Take care of Ummi."

I nodded. "You too. Safe travels."

With a final nod, Ahmad walked away, disappearing into the crowd. I watched him go, a familiar mix of relief and guilt washing over me. Our relationship had always been complicated, and I wasn’t sure it would ever change.

As I turned back to the car, Ummi was already inside, her hands folded in her lap, deep in thought. I got in and started the engine, the silence between us more comfortable than the one with Ahmad.

"So, Aalim," Ummi began, breaking the quiet as I pulled out of the parking lot. "Have you completed your registration yet?"

"Almost," I replied, keeping my eyes on the road. "I just need to finalize a few things."

"Good," she said, nodding. "I’ve heard they’ve started the WAEC registration. Any new students though oranyone writing waed with you"

"Actually," I said, seizing the moment, "there’s this girl in SS2, Abidat. She’s already registered for her WAEC exams."

Ummi raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "In SS2? That’s impressive. She must be quite talented."

"She is," I agreed. "She’s one of the brightest students in the school. It’s rare to see someone take on WAEC so early, but she’s handling it well."

"That’s admirable," Ummi said, her tone thoughtful. "It sounds like she’s setting a good example. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from her dedication."

"I think so," I replied, thinking about how effortlessly Abidat seemed to balance everything. "It’s motivating, seeing someone push themselves like that."