Take off your Hijab (Rewriting)

Where in the world could Zach currently be?✅

"In seeking my own strength, I can't help but notice the empty space where our friendship used to be, a quiet reminder of what's missing"

Third person's POV.

Amal let out a deep sigh as she closed her books, the weight of finals pressing heavily on her shoulders. It wasn't just the exams; the stress of the ongoing court case and the rumors swirling around her made everything feel unbearable. Who knew it would be this tough? It was as if the world was closing in on her from all sides. Since she got grounded, every move she made felt scrutinized. She was trying so hard to make it up to her parents, to show them that she could be responsible, but it seemed like no matter what she did, everything was slipping through her fingers.

She barely saw the guys anymore. School had become a blur of exams, and home was a tense, quiet place where she had to tread carefully, always on edge to avoid setting her parents off. Even Zach hadn't called in days. Usually, he'd check in, even if just to say hi, but now... nothing. The silence from him was deafening. Sam had mentioned that Zach was going through one of his episodes again. She remembered how he once explained that these episodes of his could stretch on, sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks. She called him every day, just to ask if he was okay, but the phone rarely rang with his voice on the other end.

She understood Zach had his own battles to face, and she felt a pang of guilt for wanting more, for missing the connection they used to share so regularly. Yet, the loneliness she felt was undeniable. It gnawed at her, a persistent reminder of being alone, of being left behind. It was as if she were transported back to a time when it felt like it was just her against the world..

"Hi" At the sound of a familiar voice, Amal's head snapped up. She frowned as she saw Anaya standing there, honestly that's the last person she wants to encounter right at the moment.

"How are you doing? How's your arm feeling?" Anaya asked, her voice tinged with concern. Amal shot her a suspicious look, trying to gauge her intentions.

"Are you here to make fun of me?" Amal's tone was sharp as she craned her neck, scrutinizing Anaya. The girl flinched, clearly taken aback by the accusation.

"What do you mean?" Anaya replied, her voice sounding innocent, but Amal wasn't convinced.

"I don't want to kill myself," Amal stated bluntly, her words hanging heavy in the air. Anaya flinched as if the words were a physical blow.

"But I—"

"Please leave," Amal interrupted, her frustration bubbling over. "I really don't appreciate your comments about my religion, and honestly, I don't appreciate your sudden concern either." Amal's voice was icy, her patience wearing thin. She didn't need Anaya's pretense right now.

But I'm so sorry," Anaya said sincerity dripping from her tone like honey with her voice trembling, but Amal rolled her eyes at what looked like her theatrics, because since when does miss Anaya apologize, is this some kind of prank?, is getting her hospitalized not enough? what more do they want from her?.

"What do you want from me, Anaya?" Amal asked, her tone edged with frustration.

"Nothing, I just—I want to personally apologize. I didn't mean for it to get that far—"

"Okay, but is your sorry going to fix my heart? My broken arm? Or repair my shattered self-esteem?" Amal questioned dryly, her smile unamused. Her voice cracked under the weight of her words, and Anaya stared at her, wide-eyed, as if only now grasping the extent of the damage she had caused to her once-friend. Amal's smile, though forced, was a reflection of her bittersweet acceptance.