It was after midnight. The moon shone to its fullest, and the scattered stars glistened in the black sky. She grinned, looking up in awe as her feet fell in step with her parents. She dragged her carry-on behind her, the wheels squeaking every now and then.
The driver took the small suitcase from her hands, and she looked up curiously at the man as he began to put it in the back of the car. Once he was done, he looked at the girl with tired eyes. A wry smile graced his lips and she returned it with a grin.
The mom called her name, and she sauntered to the lady. Her father was in work clothes, and her mother was wearing a patterned salwar kameez. The brother was in her arms, fast asleep on her shoulder. Her father took a hold of her hand and pulled her closer, but his attention wasn't focused on her — he was staring off into the distance, frowning.
I followed his eyes, then began to wonder why he was so upset.
"Innah," her father said that night. The girl—whom I presume is Innah—snapped her head upwards to look at him. "Go say bye to Grandpa and Grandma."
She nodded ever so slightly, then eagerly ran to them. As soon as the two saw her, their faces brightened. She threw herself on the grandfather, and hugged him tightly, grinning like the child she was.
"We're going to miss you," I remember the old man saying.
Innah smiled. "Don't be sad," she reassured them. "I'll come back soon. Right Daddy?" She whirled her head backwards and looked at him expectedly.
He hesitated. "Right," answered her father almost mechanically — I swear, he looked like a programmed robot in the flesh of a human. He was a tall man with glasses. He looked tough to everybody; that is, every other soul on planet Earth besides me. I could see right through his fake persona.
Innah let go of the old man and embraced the grandmother. "Alright," she said. "Promise you'll come back soon."
"I promise," she told her, even though she didn't know whether it was a promise she could keep. "I'll only be gone for a little while." She unknowingly lied.
Suddenly, she seemed to noticed the grandfather. He hadn't said a word to her. Even though a smile was plastered on his lips, I knew it was fake. He was much like the father; strong from the outside yet crumbling from the inside. Both of their egos were as inflated as an air balloon, and the grandfather she knew loved her too much to be sad in front of her.
"Khuda Hafiz," Innah said to the grandmother, then quickly hugged the grandfather.
He finally said something. "Stay safe," he whispered, "and stay faithful to Allah." She was confused by his statement, but nodded nonetheless. I heard him utter the soft words of a prayer, then saw his breath lingering on the side of her head.
"Come, Innah," I heard the mother say. "We have to go."
The family bid goodbye to the grandparents, and entered the car. The father sat in front with the driver, and Innah sat in the back with her mother next to her, Ahmed—the brother—sitting on her lap.
