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...
A/N: Hi, friends. Let's remember to pray for our sisters and brothers in Palestine, keep interacting with social media posts regarding the genocide, donate when we can, pressurize our representatives to ceasefire, take every opportunity to educate our friends and family about what's happening.
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... I was raised to believe religious people were lunatics.
It didn't help that half my life my Mom was tortured by our overzealous relatives for working to provide for her family. I was constantly told I must be from the devil because my pretty face attracted attention from the opposite gender. Our family was looked down upon because we didn't meet society's standard of convention - all in the name of religion.
...
The next day, Malika's gaze found the girls in their designated seats. All perfect and polished.
They were all staring at her with indignance. Umaira's eyes sparkled with malice, a triumphant smile on her lips. Natasha moved quickly to place her bag on the desk that was usually reserved for Malika. She let out a scoff of disbelief.
Safiya let out a snort at her sight. "Sl*t," she coughed under her breath.
Anger and pain coursed through her vein. Malika stepped towards the girls. She leaned forward to bring her face to their level and hissed under her breath, "if I opened my mouth and started spilling your secrets, then people would be calling you far worse things."
"Stay away, sl*t," Natasha sneered. "We don't want to catch your STDs."
Hatred filled Malika's heart as she darted her eyes between the girls she called friends for four years. She looked at them with disgust and proceeded towards the back of the class, feeling sick to her stomach.
Malika sat down on the very last bench. She tried to sink in her chair as far as she could, hoping to be as out of sight as she possibly could. Just a couple seats ahead, she noticed Ibrahim and the boys. Shahriar and Ibrahim were seated side by side, Aryan just behind them. To distract herself, she drifted her attention towards the boys.
Ibrahim sat with a fisted palm resting against his right cheek, his longs legs stretched in front of him and his mindless eyes on the white board at the very front of the room. His eyelids were heavy with sleep.
Ibrahim's dark hair was a couple inches longer than usual and grazed his forehead. It often happened. Malika wondered how frequently he missed his hairdresser's appointment. There was also a shadow growing under his jaw, and it made her want to ask him if he's growing a beard.
Malika quietly cursed herself and looked away. Her life was a mess as is, the last thing she needed was these forbidden thoughts about the religious boy who refused to acknowledge her presence.
