God's way

Part 9

Sunday morning arrived slowly, like a thick fog rolling in over the city. I woke up, my body still heavy with the exhaustion of yesterday's events. For a brief, blissful moment, my mind was blank, not yet grappling with the emotions that had overwhelmed me the night before. But then I shifted, and the dull, throbbing pain in my hand brought it all rushing back. I winced as I looked down at the red, tender skin. The marks were faint but unmistakable, a physical reminder of how tightly Sayjan had held me, how angry he had been.

I sighed and reached for my phone, half-hoping and half-dreading what I might find. I hesitated before unlocking it, my thumb hovering over the screen. When I finally opened my messages, there was nothing from him. No apology, no explanation, no desperate attempt to smooth things over. Just silence. I felt a strange mix of relief and sadness wash over me. Relief because I wasn't ready to face whatever he might say, and sadness because a part of me had hoped he'd reach out, that maybe he'd feel remorse. But instead, there was just emptiness.

I got out of bed and made my way to the kitchen, the smell of coffee and warm bread filling the air. My mother was already at the table, reading the newspaper with a slight frown on her face. I mumbled a "good morning" and grabbed a bowl of cereal, sitting down across from her.

She looked up, studying me with that all-too-familiar worried gaze. 

"You've been going out a lot lately, Adma," she said, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the concern in her voice. "Where were you last night?"

My heart skipped a beat, but I forced a calm smile. 

"Just at Nadiira's house," I lied easily. "We've been studying for that big test next week."

Her eyes softened, and she nodded, satisfied with my explanation. "Just don't overwork yourself, okay? You look tired."

I forced another smile and nodded. "I won't."

After breakfast, I retreated to my room, but I felt restless, the walls pressing in around me. I couldn't stay here, replaying the events of last night over and over in my mind. I needed fresh air, to clear my head. So I threw on my black knee-length coat, wrapped a gray scarf around my neck, and stepped out into the foggy, cold afternoon.

The world outside was muted, the usual sounds of the city dampened by the heavy mist. The cold air bit at my cheeks as I walked, but I welcomed the numbness. I let my feet carry me aimlessly, taking comfort in the solitude of the empty streets.

I found myself wandering towards the football field near the park. It was a place I rarely visited, especially on days like this when the cold chased most people indoors. But today, a few boys were out, their laughter cutting through the fog as they kicked a ball around. I kept my distance, not paying them much attention until, out of nowhere, the ball rolled toward me, stopping at my feet.

I froze, feeling a brief pang of panic. I wasn't good at football, and the idea of kicking it back filled me with embarrassment. Instead, I bent down and picked it up, my fingers still aching as they closed around the ball. As I straightened up, one of the boys jogged over to me. My eyes widened when I recognized him—Nabil, the boy from the cinema.

He looked just as surprised as I did, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Adma?" he said, tilting his head slightly as he took me in. "I didn't expect to see you here."

I handed him the ball, feeling a bit self-conscious. "Yeah, I was just... going for a walk," I said, managing a small smile. His presence was unexpected, but oddly comforting. We'd gone to primary school together, but we'd never been more than passing acquaintances. Seeing him now felt strange, like a blast from the past I hadn't seen coming.