God's way

Part 3

My alarm buzzes at 7:30, pulling me from sleep. I blink, letting my eyes adjust to the faint light from the window, where the sky is still deep and dark. With a groan, I reach over and switch on my bedside lamp, casting a soft glow around the room. For a moment, I lie there, soaking in the quiet of the early morning, feeling the warmth of my bed. But there's no more time to waste, so I finally sit up, stretching, and force myself to get moving.

I shuffle over to my closet, fingers brushing along the rows of hangers until I settle on a pair of dark blue flared jeans and a burgundy blouse. I pull them on and check my reflection in the mirror, smoothing down the blouse over my waist and adjusting my collar. I let my dark, wavy hair fall loose around my shoulders, nearly black in the dim light, and add a simple pair of gold teardrop earrings. Around my neck, I clasp my gold cross necklace, the chain cool against my skin.

I take a few moments to do my makeup, a touch of mascara and a sweep of blush that brings a little warmth to my cheeks. When I glance at the clock, it's already approaching 8:00. I sit on the edge of my bed and close my eyes, taking a moment for a quick prayer, words whispered in the silence of the morning. When I'm finished, I open the door and step out, feeling a bit more ready to face the day.

As I reach the staircase, a welcome scent floats up to meet me—the sweet aroma of granita, cool and refreshing. Unlike last night's emptiness, the house feels alive again, grounded by the familiar scent of breakfast. I hurry downstairs, finding my place at the table, savoring each spoonful, the icy sweetness waking me up with every bite. When I'm finished, I grab my bag, pull on my coat, and head out the door.

By the time I reach school, I'm just two minutes late for my first class, slipping in with a quick apology and a sheepish smile. The morning passes by in a blur of notes and whispered conversations, until finally, it's lunchtime. Nadiira and I walk together to the canteen, chatting and laughing as we pick out our food. Trays in hand, we scan the room for a place to sit, the familiar buzz of the cafeteria surrounding us.

As I glance around, my gaze lands on a table across the room, and my heart skips when I spot him. Sayjan, with those familiar brown eyes, is sitting with his friends—the boys everyone calls the "halal boys," a tight-knit group of mostly Muslim guys. He catches my eye, and for a brief moment, we share a small smile, just a flicker of a connection before he quickly turns back to his friends. I notice the faintest hint of nervousness in his expression, as if he's worried someone might catch that exchange.

I find a spot with Nadiira and a few other girls, settling in to eat as we talk about weekend plans and swap bits of gossip. But my mind drifts now and then, thinking about the plans I almost forgot—until now. After school, I'm going to see Sayjan. And as that thought settles in, a flutter of excitement stirs in my chest, one I can't shake as the rest of the day passes by.

When the final bell rings, my pulse quickens, and I can't help but glance toward the door, hoping for a glimpse of him as everyone is out into the hallway. I gather my things and make my way to the bus stop.

Outside, the chill of fall greets me, the sky a mix of gray clouds and fading sunlight. I head toward the bus stop. I know I should probably focus on the homework I need to get done tonight or think about dinner with my family, but it's hard to focus on anything besides seeing Sayjan.

The bus ride home feels weird. I keep replaying our conversation from last night and the way he looked at me, the shy smile that crossed his face.

Before I know it, I'm home, stepping through the door and greeted by the warmth of the house.

I go through the motions—greeting my mom in the kitchen, helping my little brother with his coat when he rushes in from outside, chatting with my older brother Sahmir, who's lounging in the living room. The usual rhythm of home life is comforting, but tonight, it feels like a background to the rest of my thoughts.