Malika Bashir had a darkened view of the world. Ibrahim Ahmad refused to see anything but the light.
Soon, a friend from the past appears at Ibrahim's doorstep and a mysterious set of letters are left in his bedroom. Old conflicts are raised and ne...
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If you have skipped the previous chapter, just go back and go through the MANDATORY READ part please! It's very important you do so.
Also, remember that this is a culture-focused story rather than a religion-based one. However, I do not intend to use that as an excuse to misinterpret Islam.
... The story starts here:
The very first time I ran my eyes over you, you were in that hideous blue uniform. I memorized your eyes, nose and smile; the features that would come to give me joy in the future and haunt me at the same time.
Call me crazy, but a little part of me believes I've been in love with you since the very first time I laid my eyes on you. ...
Malika Bashir stared at her reflection on the reflective surface of a window.
Her fair skin was powdered, blushed and bronzed. Her upturned-eyes were exaggerated with deep black kohl. Her pink pout was made rosier with the cherry chap stick shining on her lips.
Malika scrutinized her appearance for a moment. She was fairly impressed by how much she had achieved in the cramped backseat of her mother's car, jerking over uneven roads. There wasn't a stroke that was out of place, or a stray strand of hair, she saw with satisfaction.
She darted her honey-colored eyes towards her never-ending forehead, annoyance flashing in them. There was only so much makeup could do. The forehead never looked right, and no amount of contouring could fix it.
Malika let out a sigh. She reluctantly pulled out the hideous blue blazer from her backpack and wrapped it around her shoulders.
She hated the school uniform more than anything she had ever hated. It reminded her of that blue liquid people used to clean their toilets. The blue was ugly.
It made her look ugly.
Despite that, Malika knew she had to wear it. Their class supervisor's favorite hobby was to single her out for the most miniscule things and question her character in front of the entire student body.
Malika knew she'd given enough ammunition by wearing makeup and stilettos to class, she didn't need to ditch the blazer to attract anymore attention towards her.
Rolling her eyes at the thought of their school's toxic culture, Malika sauntered towards the primary academic building.
The school ground was crowded, students milling in groups, heading for their first class.
