Painting Life

T e n.

Sorry for the extraordinarily short chapter but this was all I had to put in the scene. And anyways, Part One (That is the kid part) is about to end. Part Two will be coming soon, with Haris and Daniya, all grown up. My babies are growing up; it's so sweet :* <3

(I know this chapter sucks. I'll rewrite sometime soon, maybe) 

<< Sometimes following your heart, might be the best choice you have >> 

Ten | Conflicted Feelings.  

D a n i y a: 

After Haris's friends left, he came up to sit next to me on the couch. I was watching Sherlock Holmes, a show that I'd gotten particularly fond of. Haris just sat next to me silently and the two of us continued to watch the show, our eyes glued on the screen. 

When Dad finally came home, he was surprised to see the two of us sitting together. The past days, we had been on an ignoring fest and hadn't said one word to each other. So I could see why he thought this was rather abnormal for the two of us. 

"Salam," He said cheerfully, sitting next to me. "How are you guys?" 

I smiled as he ruffled my hair, "Alhamdullillah." 

"And you?" Dad raised his eyebrows at Haris who looked like he was trying to blend in the wall. 

"I am fine," He mumbled. 

"Tut, tut," Dad said gently. "What are you supposed to say?" 

"Alhamdulillah," Haris replied, his cheeks tinting red. He always acted this way when Daddy was around. I didn't know why. Dad liked Haris too (not as much as me because I had made him promise me that) and had known what he would like for as his birthday present. 

Dad had also helped me write that little message to him. He was surprised then, too, that I was actually making an attempt to not be rude to Haris. 

"So did the present heal the wounds?" Dad winked at me teasingly. 

"I dunno," I shrugged. "Ask Haris."

Haris suddenly looked like the most uncomfortable person in the world. He got up suddenly and stuttered, his face red, "I uh - I gotta go to the washroom! Talk to you later guys." 

And then shooting us a weak smile, he trotted up the stairs at an abnormal speed. I looked at my father who was looking confused. 

"I guess not," I said quietly without elaborating but my father understood it all the same and put an arm around my shoulders. 

"It will soon," He reassured me. 

"But I am not sure if I want to be friends with him. He's...I don't know. He's too nice and funny and popular and I am afraid he'll steal both yours and Mommy's hearts before I have time to bat an eyelash." 

"Oh, baby girl," My father sighed. "You'll always be our real child, okay? We'll always love you, no matter what. And you are nice and funny and popular too. Why do you think so less of yourself?" 

I felt guilty, then because Dad didn't know that I wasn't popular or nice or funny. He was under an illusion. I wondered if he'd still love me if I told him the truth one day? 

"Yeah." I swallowed uncertainly. 

Dad nodded at me. "Good. Now watch the show and don't sweat it, okay? Everything will be fine." 

From Emma Westerfield, 9:04 pm: Hey, Daniya. Can you pass a message on to Haris? I don't think he has a phone, really. 

I looked at the message with something resembling indifference, but my insides were a complete mess. The first message I'd recieved and it was to pass on a message to Haris? 

I was tempted to write I am not your messenger but I ignored the voice in my head and typed a quick yes. 

From Emma Westerfield, 9:10 pm: Thanks :) Tell Haris that we're all going to Starbucks tomorrow; Remy's treat. His parents are away again and gave him jackpot. (Don't be confused, Haris'll understand) 

I sighed, my heart constricting. Half of me didn't want to pass on the message because Emma couldn't have been more rude. She just passed on the message that she'd be taking Haris to Starbucks, but didn't even care about me? 

The "Bich" of the school. 

Swallowing the self-pity down, I ventured out to find Haris sitting on the couch, his face buried in my favourite book, aside from Harry Potter. Gently peeling Imagination away from his face, I said,

"Emma told me to pass on a message." 

Haris looked surprised, "Okay. Why didn't she call though?" 

I scowled, "How am I supposed to know?" 

"Guess not," Haris's lips twitched slightly. "So, what's the message?" 

I showed him the text Emma had sent. He nodded, "Okay." 

I waited for a few seconds too long before hopping away and going back up to my room, even more absorbed in self-pity now. 

Even Haris didn't care to invite me to Starbucks. And I guess it'd remain that way. I wasn't popular or funny. I was just a less-than-ordinary girl that nobody cared about. 

Maybe I should learn not to care about them too.