#152 in Chicklit 12/03/16
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Two crazy Muslimas
Two Muslim Bad Boys
Two different worlds
Two different stories
Only one thing in common:
Islam
It's just Elham, Farheen
Zayn and Fahmy facing the hustles that adulthood brings and learning to be...
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I take the bus back home, arriving there I look at the building up and down and didn't have the courage to get in, yet.
This moment I just wish I had a full scholarship, forty percent ain't cutting in now.
I sit on the stairs outside and watch the movement of people; I'm having that horrible feeling that everyone else is happy.That is what happens when we are sad, it seems like rest of the world is having the time of their lives.
"Why don't you come in?"My dad asks from behind me. I flinch and turn to look at him, my heart starts racing.
"I was just taking some air." I try and stand up. "Assalam Alleikum."
"Walleikum Salaam, come in. Your mother and I have something to tell you."
"Yeah, me too." I say looking down all devastated, I was going to disappoint my dad so much and that hurt more in me.
I find my mother sitting on a table having a tea, they had just had lunch.
"Assalam Alleikum." I greet my mother and kiss her.
"Walleikum Salaam. How was your day?" She ask in a smile, that is thrilling me, why are they so happy? I look from my mum to my dad as I sit on the table.
"I never ran so much before in my whole life." I say sarcastically, and pour myself a tea.
"Why don't you have lunch first?" Mum asks.
"No, thanks." I say right away. "I'm not hungry." Even put that tea down would be hard.
"Umm, Okay!" She says and exchanges glares with dad, I really wonder what they are up to.
They hold hands smiling at me and I take a sip of my tea still waiting. "We are having a baby?" My dad says and I spit the tea out of my mouth, I glare at mum and she is holding a mega smile on her face.
"What?" I demand and they keep on smiling. I glare at the calendar on the wall. "It is not first April. Are you guys serious? How do you plan to raise this child?"I just sounded like a mother talking to her reckless teenage kids.
But let's be honest, we are not financially able to have another member, we just can't afford it.
Also I can't risk having another brother, three is good enough. I'm the oldest one, so everything is on me; they play around with my perfumes spraying all around the house, the youngest Ahmed is always jumping on my bed, I can't leave my phone for a second that the oldest Mustafa finishes my airtime, they are always leaving the bathroom wet, they make so much noise mainly when you need peace, they are always fighting mainly in front of the TV, wear my clothes to act like me when I'm mad and the list goes on and on.
"I mean-." I try to find words. "How?" That is all I could say out of disappointment.
