BELONGING - BOOK 1

18. Daddy's Girl

Souraiya

As I closed The Fault in Our Stars for the zillionth time, hot tears streamed down my face, and I gently wiped them away with the back of my hand. The familiar ache in my chest lingered, a testament to John Green's masterful storytelling. Our upcoming Further Maths test loomed, but I couldn't tear myself away from Hazel and Augustus's heart-wrenching love story.

I snapped a photo of the book lying on my bed, its pages creased from countless re-reads, and posted it on Instagram with the caption: "That book you never stop crying after reading." Within minutes, likes and comments started pouring in.

I couldn't help but think back to my last viral post - a mirror selfie with Sultan after our intense home gym workout. I was wearing my favorite oversized gym shirt and baggy trousers, while he rocked a fitted vest and Calvin Klein boxers that showcased his chiseled arms. The comments went wild; girls swooned over his chiseled physique, and boys admired his fitness inspiration. Modelling agencies even reached out, but Sultan declined, grumbling that I'd turned him into an unwitting social media sensation.

'You're to blame for this,' he teased, shaking his head.

I chuckled, remembering the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.

Now, as I settled back into my pillow, surrounded by the comforting silence of my room, I let The Fault in Our Stars's emotional afterglow wash over me. The soft glow of my lamp cast a warm ambiance, and the scent of fresh laundry wafted from my bed sheets. I felt cozy, lost in the world of words.

I couldn't help but think about how complicated friendships got when my brothers were involved. Most of my friends only befriended me to get closer to them - like Zara, who's a year older than me. After her breakup with Sultan, she started ignoring me. That's why I dreaded the idea of my friends dating him; it always ended up affecting me. Take Nadiya, for instance. She stopped talking to me after Sultan rejected her.

Living with three overprotective brothers who wouldn't let me date was suffocating. I headed downstairs, wearing a pink crop top paired with one of my Recherché scarves and baggy jeans. The soft fabric of the scarf brushed against my skin as I moved.

My phone buzzed with a message from Fa'iza, my NAOWA College classmate, asking about ordering a scarf. I love running my online clothing business, mostly scarves, scrunchies, and vintage dresses. It's my passion, but Dad wants me to study Medicine or Law - "respectable" courses. But Interior Design and entrepreneurship call my name.

Recherché, my brand, was born when I was 15. Mom and my friends encouraged me to sell vintage scarves online, and I chose the name after reading about it in a book. It means "carefully sought out," reflecting my love for unique aesthetics.

As I walked into the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and sunlight streaming through the window highlighted the dust particles dancing around me. I felt a sense of freedom in this space, away from the drama and expectations.

I poured myself a glass of juice from the almost-empty jug and replied to Fa'iza's message. Then, I headed to Dad's living room, a cozy oasis separate from the boys' quarters, which always felt like a dark, endless hallway. As the only girl, I wouldn't have enjoyed a "girls' quarters" anyway.

The soft glow of the lamp beside Dad's favorite armchair welcomed me, and the plush Persian carpet beneath my feet felt divine. Dad was reclined on the couch, his long legs crossed on the coffee table, watching TV - probably TVC News, judging by the serious anchors' faces. Aunt Muneera sat beside Ashfaq, helping him with his assignment, while Ashraf worked on his own. The TV's volume was loud, but I knew Dad would shoo them away if they were distracting him.