Alnihayya

||S h a m e l e s s||

F i v e

And you became like the coffee,
In the deliciousness ,
and the bitterness
And the addiction.

-Mahmoud Darwish-

☆

Mashal

It was a Sunday evening and I had spent the whole day on my laptop, searching for a job that would allow me to go to college and also, to wear a niqab. I had been skimming through dozens of websites but with no luck.

Finally when I was sure that there was no chance of me finding such a job, I slammed the laptop shut in frustration.

My eyes fell on the mirror and I scanned myself from top to bottom. I was so different from Minahil. Her hair were brown and straight while mine were black and curly. She had big beautiful hazel eyes while mine were small and black. She was curvy, I was petite.

She was beautiful. I was okay.
Not in my grades though.
Alhamdulillah.

I smiled at the thought and stretched my arms. I needed to relax and get out of the depressing air of my room so I decided to go down.

Walking down the stairs, my eyes fell on the numerous pictures that mama had decorated in beautiful frames, hanging on the wall.

With every step that I took, there was a new picture in front of me. The pictures had been there since ages but it was only today that I noticed something strange.

There was not a single picture of me.

There were pictures of baby Minahil, baby Abdullah and even the whole family, excluding me. I remember asking mama once about why I didn't have any baby pictures and why was I not present in any of the family pictures.

She said something like I didn't like taking pictures and used to cry whenever I saw a camera so they couldn't take my pictures.

That was hard to believe but I had accepted it.

Sighing heavily, I walked to the kitchen. My body was craving coffee and I had just started making it when I heard loud voices from the living room.

The kitchen was right next to the living room so I could clearly recognize papa's voice and another man's voice that was unknown to me.
I couldn't make up what they were arguing about but both of them seemed really angry.

Ignoring their heated conversation, I continued pouring milk into my coffee. I already had enough on my nerves to carry, I didn't need more stress.

Completely forgetting that there was an unknown man in the house and that I wasn't even wearing a hijab, I walked out of the kitchen with my coffee.

I had just taken a few steps into the corridor when the living room door burst open and my soul almost departed to see a young man, dressed in a black suit staring right at me. At first his dark eyes were burning with anger but after seeing me, they turned subtle. Almost worried.

My eyes scanned his black hair and dark eyes that looked so welcoming. I tried moving my legs to run away from the eyes of that stranger but they felt pinned to the floor.
As he continued staring at me, my hands shivered, unable to hold the huge coffee mug and it fell to the tiled floor, breaking into a million pieces.

Even though the shrill sound of the breaking mug should've woken me up but I was still lost somewhere, not knowing what had happened until he rushed up to me. "Mashal!" He shrieked, grabbing my hands "Your hands! They're burnt."