The Prince Of Hearts | ✓

chapter 1: gold

"words have never been able to describe anything. nothing can describe the feelings a human has been blessed with. only God can approximate their meanings - inaya"

"Inaya! Inaya. Innnaaayyyaaa."

Afra yelled from where she was sitting on her bed cross legged. Her best friend - Inaya bint Al Haadi - as was her name was a woman of extreme innocence leveled with a tad bit of exquisiteness. She lived down the block but even then living at each others' place was a task unavoidable.

"God! I'm going to die."

She muttered with frustration when Inaya didn't make it even after a whole minute.

Basically, Afra wasn't the most dramatic of all. Especially when they had Mahreen Bint Al Haadi - Inaya's youngest sibling - who bragged the role of the most dramatic girl when she had almost dragged Mariam - her mother - to the police station when her favourite doll had been lost. Turned out, Inaya had pretty much kidnapped the doll, dodged the several obstacles and finally threw it in the washing machine to get it cleaned.

Even though, Inaya and her other sister Hafsa bint Al Haadi weren't the biggest fans of dolls and clowns, Mahreen had developed an obsession like any other child with her Barbie. In general, if there was something both of Mahreen's sisters hated with a passion - regardless of how insignificant - failing at solving a Rubic cube, fixing a broken Minnie mouse nightlight, or remembering where the school photographs were kept - she'd go after it and would not give up until she'd figured it out.

In case anyone was wondering, she had barely turned seven.

"Inaya !"

She shouted once again, impatiently slapping her legs against the soft mattress.

For Afra, Inaya was one of the only friends she was blessed with excluding Mahreen, Hafsa and Mariam who were excessively patient and exceedingly understanding. Being an only child wasn't the only part of her life that surrounded her with loneliness or seclusion. It was more so of the fact that she was constantly targeted as a perfect victim of bullying at her school, where she was one of three students who were not Arabs.

Inaya's perception of life was divine and harboured doses of positiveness and enigma. She was one of those rare people who smiled during the toughest paths and laughed with joy once they had reached their destination.

After a couple of seconds, Inaya rushed into the room, shutting the bathroom door behind her. Her body was wrapped in a towel that fell till her thighs, exposing her lean legs. Her auburn hair was stuck to the sides of her face and her black eyes clouded with worry.