Take off your Hijab (Rewriting)

Where is your mom?✅

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Amal skipped through the aisles of the store, her giggles echoing with the innocent joy only a child could know. She would pick up random items, inspecting them with wide eyes before tossing them into the cart. Her mother, Safia, followed close behind, putting everything back in its place with a tired sigh. Amal did this every time—her excitement at simply being out in the world was boundless. She didn't care where they went as long as she could be outside, soaking up the fresh air, feeling the freedom that came with it.

"Amal, please stop it! Stop running around!" Safia's voice held a warning, but Amal, thinking it was part of the fun, only giggled louder and darted past her. Safia sighed, jogging after her daughter, who now rounded a corner at full speed. But then there was a sudden thud, followed by a piercing wail that turned heads all over the store.

Amal had run straight into a tall woman, and the collision sent her tumbling to the ground. Tears immediately welled up in her eyes, and she began to cry, her tiny body trembling as she looked up at the stranger, waiting for comfort or an apology. That's what grown-ups did, right? They helped you up when you fell, said they were sorry even if it wasn't their fault. But this woman didn't. She just stared at Amal for a long moment before finally crouching down.

"Aww, you poor thing. Where's your mom?" the woman asked, her tone sweet but distant, as she lifted Amal up, though her grip was more rough than gentle.

"Sh-she's o-over there!" Amal sobbed, pointing toward her mother, who was rushing toward them.

Safia's hijab was slightly askew from the sprint, her face filled with concern. But before she could reach them, the woman—without warning—dropped Amal roughly onto the ground again. The child let out a louder wail, her tiny body crumpling once more onto the cold floor.

In an instant, Safia was there, scooping her daughter into her arms, whispering soothing words in Arabic as Amal cried into her chest. Her heart pounded in her ears, anger slowly creeping in.

"Why would you drop her like that?!" Safia demanded, her voice shaking with restrained fury. "She's just a child! Don't you know she could have been hurt?"

The woman's expression changed. The fake concern vanished, replaced by a sneer. "Then maybe she should get hurt," the woman spat. "One less problem in the world if she's gone., if all of you  are gone"

Safia blinked, momentarily stunned by the venom in her words. "W-what are you saying? She's just a kid!" Safia demanded, her voice shaking with both fury and fear. "She's just a child! She could've been hurt!" Her accent, already noticeable, thickened with the weight of her disbelief, her voice rising.

"right but she's a Muslim kid." The woman's eyes were cold and flat. "And i mean the utmost disrespect when i say to you, all of you Muslims deserve to be killed, just like everyone you killed in the 911."

Safia's chest tightened. Her pulse quickened, anger and fear swirling together. "i didn't we didn't 

buh buh yeah shut up if you cant speak English hell go back to your country we do not want you here all of you fucking terrorist just keep on multiplying this days fucking imbeciles

You—you're a racist!" she shouted, her voice cracking, hands trembling as she held Amal tighter against her.

The woman smirked. "if you don't like it then then Go back to your fucking country."