Take off your Hijab (Rewriting)

New Beginnings...✅

"A piece of glass may seem fragile, but when shattered, it reveals countless sharp edges. Handle her with care-she's more than she appears."

Third persons POV

"Amal, I'm so proud of you!" one of her many aunts exclaims, her voice bright as she pinches Amal's cheeks, pulling her into a playful pout.

"Auntie, please... let go!" Amal whines, her words dragging out like a petulant child as she wriggles free.

Her aunt laughs, finally releasing her. "Oh shush, you love me. Now, thank me!"

Amal's lips curl into a grin. "Thank you, Auntie," she says, half teasing, half sincere.

The moment lasts only a second before her aunt's voice rises in the air. "ZAID! Can you not touch the meat with your hands?!" she yells at one of Amal's cousins, causing Amal to shake her head at the usual chaos of family gatherings. Why couldn't her family be less dramatic about the smallest of achievements?

Amal's house buzzes tonight-people crammed into every corner, the smell of spices, traditional dishes, and grilled meats hanging in the air. She feels a mix of excitement and nostalgia, as scents of kibbeh waft through the room, reminding her of countless family dinners where laughter and stories were shared over plates piled high. Her mother's mujadara, with its comforting blend of lentils and rice, always brought her a sense of warmth, and tonight it seemed more special.

As she glances around, laughter and chatter fill the spaces, wrapping around her like a familiar embrace. It was all for her-for her graduation. A milestone that felt oddly foreign to celebrate with such grandeur, but in her family, it was a big deal. The fattoush salad, vibrant with colors, catches her eye, its crisp vegetables and tangy dressing almost beckoning her to indulge. The mere thought of it makes her stomach rumble, intensifying her hunger.

Amal's heart swells with a mixture of pride and anxiety. She knows this celebration is a way for her family to express love and support, yet she can't shake the feeling of being the center of attention. Her gaze drifts to the tabbouleh, fresh and fragrant with parsley and mint-another reminder of home, where every bite tells a story.

Suddenly, a cloud of smoke wafts through the air, and she spots her uncle flipping skewers of marinated chicken on the grill. The sizzling sound is music to her ears, a tantalizing promise of the shawarma that awaits her. Just as she imagines the warm pita wrapped around juicy meat, her aunt shouts again, this time playfully scolding her other cousin for stealing the first bite.

Amal can't help but smile at the familiar chaos. It feels comforting, grounding her amidst the whirlwind of emotions. She looks around, her family's animated faces illuminated by the soft glow of fairy lights, and she feels a sense of belonging wash over her. Every dish they prepared, from the savory bamya to the sweet baklava, holds a memory, a connection to her roots that makes her heart swell.

Tonight, despite the drama, is a celebration of her journey-one filled with love, laughter, and the richness of Syrian traditions. As the night unfolds, she knows that amidst the noise and the chaos, the true essence of her family's love is captured in every shared dish, every heartfelt cheer, and every smile exchanged.

Amal, come meet my sister!" her mother's voice cut through the noise, dragging her out of her thoughts, and Amal turned on her heels.

"Sister?" Her eyes lit up as recognition dawned. "Aunt Maryam!" she almost yelled, rushing to embrace her.