Take off your Hijab (Rewriting)

No relationships for me until am forty✅

"Reality has a way of shattering illusions. Don't let your imagination become your only refuge, or you'll find yourself broken when it all comes crashing down....just like she did"

Their persons POV

"Yeah, bye, Mr. Kelvin," Zachary says to the odd drama teacher, one of his favorites, despite his eccentricities. He walks out of the theater, his thoughts quickly shifting to Amal. They'd agreed to meet in the garden, but now, uncertainty gnaws at him. Was she still in class? Or was she already waiting for him, was she wondering why he was late?

As he hurries down the hallway, guilt starts to creep in. She had every right to be mad—he was thirty minutes late. But it wasn't his fault, really. The teacher had kept him back.

Zach's steps quicken as he nears the garden, a weak smile tugging at his lips. But when he steps inside, the sight of the empty space makes his heart drop. He frowns deeply, panic beginning to coil in his chest. Where could she be?

His pulse races as he retraces his steps, heading toward the science wing. As he rounds the corner, he stops dead in his tracks. A crowd is gathered around the entrance of the science class, their hushed whispers and tense faces setting off alarm bells in his head. His stomach twists into a tight knot. Something is wrong—terribly wrong.

He drops his lunch bag without even realizing it and begins to push his way through the throng, ignoring the angry "hey's and "watch it's thrown his way. His heart pounds in his chest, every step forward only increasing the dread clawing at him.

Finally, he breaks through to the front of the crowd, and the sight before him is like a punch to the gut. A police officer is putting up a "keep out" sign around a pool of blood, the stark red staining the tiles and his thoughts with terror.

"Get back!" the officer shouts, her voice sharp and full of authority, but no one moves.

"What happened here, ma'am?" Zach asks, his voice trembling with fear, confusion, and something else—a desperate need to know. His heart is pounding, a wild rhythm of terror that only escalates as he imagines the worst.

"A hate crime," the officer says flatly, her eyes hardened by what she's seen. Zach feels his heart skip a beat, his breath catching in his throat.

"A hate crime... in school?" he asks, disbelief and fear twisting his voice.

"Yes, son. The students involved are over 18," she replies, her tone final, as if that should explain everything. But it doesn't—nothing makes sense to Zach in this moment.

"But... how is it a hate crime? Couldn't it just be a fight?" He clings to the hope that maybe, just maybe, it isn't as bad as it seems.

"Not when the other person couldn't even defend herself," the officer responds, her voice softer now, tinged with sadness. Zach feels like his blood has turned to ice.

"She?" The word barely makes it out of his mouth. He doesn't want to know, but he has to. He has to.

"Three guys attacked a Muslim girl. They said she 'looked like a member of ISIS and deserved to die.'" The officer's words are like a sledgehammer, shattering the thin barrier between Zach and his worst fears. The world seems to tilt, his vision blurring with shock and horror.

"No..." The word slips out, a whisper of disbelief. His heart feels like it's being crushed. "Where is she?" The question bursts out of him, raw with desperation.

"What?" the officer asks, taken aback by his intensity.

"The girl—where is she? Please, tell me!" His voice cracks, tears welling up in his eyes. The dread is suffocating now, choking him.