Let Me Be Yours

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

NS: I mentioned at the beginning of the book that Amira's studying petroleum chemistry, I changed that to chemical engineering.

Also, I used a four year course duration though it's a five years program,

My baby girl doesn't want much stress ahbeg 😋

And...

Nah, that should be it.

Enjoy 😊

* * *

🎶🎵Been through some bad shit, I should be a sad bitch
Who woulda thought it'd turn me to a savage?
Rather be tied up with calls and not strings
Write my own checks like I write what I sing, yeah (yeah)
My wrist, stop watchin', my neck is flossin'
Make big deposits, my gloss is poppin'
You like my hair?
Gee, thanks, just bought it
I see it, I like it, I want it, I got it🎵🎶

She's in the kitchen frying some samosas and listening to Ariana Grande's '7 Rings' when she heard voices from the sitting room.

She lost her breath for a moment thinking it to be Ali but her fear drifted away when she heard Fauziyya's pitched voice.

The last state she'd want Ali to meet her in is in capri jeans and a white tunic top.

He left last night with Andy about half an hour after she went back to her room.

Ali and disappearing at night. Ya Rabbi.

She stopped by the door and peeked out only to meet with Abeedah's hazel eyes as she approached the kitchen in a blue boubou.

"Hey." Was all she said and came in.

First time she spoke to me. "Hi. Good morning."

She turned to Amira with a flat face, and when Amira thought an answer wasn't coming along,

"Morning." She mumbled, going towards the stove where the samosas were frying on low heat. "Do you have more?"

"Yeah." Amira turned to the integrated refrigerator and brought out two disposable plastic containers holding frozen samosas each while Abeedah began straining the one's on fire.

"Holla ladies." Fauziyya came in with the kids.

"Good morning." Amira greeted and she flitted a hand at her.

"Oh please, quit the greeting. We do hugs." And she enclosed Amira in a side hug, Zayn toted in her other arm.

Amira felt every form of sheepish.

The kids all said their jumpy greetings and Amira answered them with smiles.

"Aunty, can I have one of those?" Three-year-old Afeef tapped her legs, pointing at the colander of fried turnovers.

She noted how much he looks like his father, and has his mum's dimples.

"Why not?" She got a plate and turned the samosas for them and they thanked her before the girls followed behind Afeef to the sitting room.

"The kids are really smart. You raised them well." She took up frying the rest of the samosas.

"Abu Hameedah does that, he's the drillmaster." Fauziyya sat on a stool, seating bouncy Zayn on her thigh.

"That's your job y'know."

"Oh please," She chuckled. "He does it better."

They conversed as she fried the remaining turnovers, Abeedah was just her usual self, reticent.