Lamia Shah didn't have the light in her life.
Being told that her father was no more and spending her childhood in pain from her abusive mother was enough to shatter any hopes for a better life. The sudden marriage of her mother to a man unknown to...
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It was sunny in Denver.
The birds chirped to the song of nature, the trees smiled at the flowers, the latter blooming to beauty.
The girl knew it was her last day here.
Hustle and bustle was something she was quite used to. She was always imposed to pressurising situations since her childhood.
Verona Pizzeria was crowded at this hour, customers rushing in and out as the aroma of baked cheese and mixed fresh vegetables wafted in the air of the kitchen.
Lamia sighed as she smeared the pizza sauce on the rolled out dough.
"Last day, huh?" she heard a voice address her before she heard the sound of knife sliding against wood repeatedly.
It was Shreya; one of the few coworkers Lamia could bear at the place.
"Hmm," she hummed in response, a tight-lipped smile plastered on her face as she turned to her before grabbing the sliced vegetables in the bowl.
"Excited about your new family?"
This was the question that did it all. If Lamia would get a dollar for everytime someone mentioned her soon-to-be step-family, she would have left her job on a happy note instead, considering the decent amount it paid her all along.
She let out a dry chuckle. "I hope you already know my answer," she said, placing the pan in the oven. "I'm dreading it."
Shreya nodded in understanding. "I feel you. Parents' second marriages may take a heavy toll on us in the very beginning, but by time you learn to accept the reality, I guess."
Lamia wanted to scoff at her words. The reality of what? Another parent to beat her to pulp too?
Whenever anyone would advise her, she would feel her throat constricting at their naivety of her reality. She never told anyone of what she had to bear all along, and she was planning to keep it that way for a very long time.
"Yeah," she said, her voice distant. "I guess."
Lamia caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror to notice there was some flour in her hair. She untied it from its bun and went to the corner to dust it off, soon remembering she had curled her strands earlier today, a special day.
Today was her eighteenth birthday.
The pizza parlour had slowly cleared, the place quietening down as the last of the customers took their orders and left, leaving the place to be tidied up.
