A tale of love, loss, and new beginnings.
Hareem wants to start over, Momin is stuck in the past. Can a newly wedded couple learn to love and accept one another while also dealing with an uncertain future and a haunting past?
Trigger warning: ptsd...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Gulping down the hot and sweet coffee, Hareem reached for the last half of her paratha roll. She took a generous bite and quickly chewed it, ignoring the spice of the green chili pepper and sweetness of the chopped onion within the omelet.
"What time do you have to go today?" Hareem's father asked, setting down that morning's newspaper as he sat across her at the breakfast table.
"Around nine thirty," she informed, getting up to put her dirty plate away. "Will you drop me?"
"I can manage today, since Ahmad doesn't have football until eleven," he buttered his toast, "but please sign up for the bus today. It's going to be hard for me to manage both of your school schedules." He set the butter knife aside and made eye contact with her. "Besides, the college is on the other side of the city, it takes a lot of petrol for the two way trip."
Hareem nodded with an understanding smile.
"I'll see to it today, in'sha Allah," he nodded before digging into his breakfast. "Oh and Baba, can I have some money?"
"How much do you want?" He asked, swallowing a morsel.
"Maybe like two thou–"
Hareem's mother walked in through the lounge, Ahmad at her heel.
"Mama, I need those studs. Everyone at soccer practice has them!" He pleaded, his tone slightly edgy.
"You got new ones just last month. You aren't going to get anything until school starts next week."
"Mama!"
"Don't talk to me like that," their mother snapped, turning towards Ahmed. "Shoukat, look at how your son is talking to his mother. The same mother who gave birth to him!" She exclaimed to her husband.
"Ahmad," their father warned, his tone bored.
"Baba, I always score good in my tests, I'm my team's star player. I'm always good, and unlike Hareem over there, I actually make an effort to make you guys proud," Ahmad expressed angrily, stomping his feet. "I need those shoes. I deserve those shoes!"
Surprised at the insult, Hareem turned from besides her father and saw the anger and pride in her brother's eyes.
"Don't talk about your sister like that," her father warned. "There's no need for you to compare yourself with her. Both of you are equal for us."
"Baba..."
"Not another word Ahmad. I'm going to think about it. Football shoes aren't cheap. "
Ahmed's frown deepened as he roughly pulled the chair back and sat down.
Hareem looked between her father and mother, trying to figure out if they had more to say about Ahmed insulting her, or any questions regarding her well being. However her father had gone back to his newspaper, and her mother was placing a fresh batch of eggs in front of Ahmed.
