I sat in my room, thinking of how fast time had passed. I had returned home from school since three weeks ago, but it seemed just like yesterday. In a week or less, I'd be going back to school. As the day drew closer, I realized I wasn't as happy as I thought I'd be. I wasn't sad—that was for sure, but there was this eerie feeling lingering in my mind—a feeling I couldn't quite fathom.

I reclined backwards in the wooden chair and stretched out my legs. It was almost evening; the sun had hidden and the weather was cool. Unlike other days, to some limited extent, I enjoyed my day. I was able to make a painting I had been wanting to make for the longest time. It was a simple painting of nature—the serene, blueish sky, the green grasses and tall trees..

With a satisfied smile tugging at my lips, I admired the piece of art I had created. To be honest, it looked like a piece from a professional. I couldn't believe I made it. It seemed surreal.

As a kid, Abii had always encouraged me to go into art, because according to him, he had already seen the potentials in me early. Initially, I had taken it seriously, but as years passed, procrastination found a dwelling place in me.

Asides painting, I also had a massive interest in drawing. I would admit I wasn't too good at it, but I was willing to learn. Someday, I want to be able to make a drawing of a house—my dream home. I knew it might sound juvenile to certain people, but I didn't really give a damn about 'other' people's perceptions. It was what I wanted and I would indisputably go for it. Soon.

My mind, all of a sudden, drifted to Jawaad. All I had wanted and prayed for, was for him to notice me—to at least make an effort to know me. But each time we met, it was always the same thing. He would ignore me, like it was the most normal thing in the world. The part that got to me every time, was how he had never looked at me for more than a second. Islamically, I knew it was the right thing for him to lower his gaze, but the way he did it the last time, gave me the impression that I disgusted him. But for what? In spite of how hard I searched within my soul to get an answer to my question, the result was futile. Perhaps, Farida must had brainwashed him about me.

"No..." I shook my head and puffed out air from my mouth. Farida wouldn't do that. "But what if she did, you dummy?" I hit myself on the forehead.

Ummi was right when she said I trusted people too easily. Farida had betrayed me. She broke the trust I had in her, yet a part of me still believed she had my best interest at heart.

How stupid of me!

"Why am I even stressing myself with these thoughts?" I huffed. "If he doesn't like me, it's his loss."

His loss.

"Manal!" Imran's irksome high-pitched voice startled me.

"Manal." He called again; his time, his voice lower. "Can I come in?" He asked.

"You can come in." I responded.

Imran pushed open the door and walked in; his eyebrows hitched.

I was tempted to ask him what it was with the look, but I kept the Inquisition to myself.

"What's wrong with you today?" He chuckled.

I frowned. "Why are you asking me that? Do I look sick? I'm alright."

He chuckled again. "Actually, you are extra nice today, so I'm here wondering why. Typically, you'd have scolded me for yelling out your name the way I did. You wouldn't have given me permission to enter your room and you wouldn't be speaking to me so nicely."

"So you actually knew you'd get me riled up by yelling my name the way you did, but you still did it anyways." I sneered. "Now I get it; you do all these things to annoy me, don't you?"

The cocky smile on his face gave me the answer to my question.

"What do you gain by being a pain in the neck?" I voiced.

"It's fun getting on your nerves sometimes." He laughed.

"I will pretend I didn't hear that, because I'm in a good mood today."

He walked closer to me and his eyes dilated at the sight of my painting.

My lips curved into a smile as a wave of pride washed over me. "I painted this."

"Obviously."

I ignored his subtle unpleasant remark and asked; "How is it?"

He hummed and took a moment to examine it with his eyes. "Not bad."

"Huh?" I raised a brow.

"Not bad." He repeated with a shrug.

"That's all you have to say?"

"What were you expecting to hear?" He chortled. "Honestly, this isn't that good. The sky looks like a sea." He burst into laughter. "And how comes the grasses are taller than the hut." At this point, Imran was laughing uncontrollably.

Irritated, I hurled a pencil at him, but he was quick to dodge it on time. "Get out! What you do you know about art. The grasses seem taller than the hut, because the hut is faraway. Be serious for once in your life."

"Better than you at least." He tittered. "I, for one would never draw a tree with so many branches."

Being the carefree person Imran was, I knew it might not be his intention to hurt me with his words. To him, it might be a joke, but his criticism really got to me. In just a few minutes, he had managed to destroy the confidence I earlier had in myself. "Thank you."

He must have felt bad for his remarks, because he stopped laughing, but the remorse was short-lived. "Just because you're my sister, don't expect me to call a spade a big spoon." He shrugged. "You tried, but this," he pointed to the painting. "Isn't worth bragging about. Don't even show it to Ummi or Abii, because they are going to deceive you and say it's the best thing they have seen all their lives." He chuckled. "It's what parents always do. It's embarrassing. If I were you, I will just tear it."

I gulped. It was the last straw. He had really gone overboard. "You're right." I picked up the paper and tore it into pieces. "It's trash."

Imran's jaw fell to the ground. "What have you done!"

"What you suggested." I scoffed. "Happy now?"

The remorse that glistened in his eyes, didn't go unnoticed by me. He lowered his gaze in what I assumed to be shame. "You didn't have to take my words seriously and tore it. I didn't mean those things I said."

I shook my head in disagreement. "You aren't a kid anymore, Imran." I pointed out. "You should know when and when not to make shabby jokes. Thanks to you, I destroyed something I put in my all to make. Thanks for ruining my mood. You should be proud of yourself."

"Man—"

"Just leave me alone, I don't want to—"

"Manal!" Ummi's voice cut me off.

"Na'am." I yelled back and walked out of the room, without sparing Imran another look.

Immediately I stepped out of the room, I swallowed a lump in my throat. I mentally slapped myself on the head for acting so stupidly on impulse. No matter what my brother had said, I shouldn't have given him the pleasure of seeing that his words actually got to me. I had been doing a great job, but I had to let my emotion get to me.

Stupid.

I made sure to compose myself, before walking into Ummi's room. "Assalamualaikum."

"Waalaykum salaam." She responded.

I tilted my brows in surprise. Judging by the way Ummi was dressed, I could tell she was set to leave the house.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"Yes. Today is my friend's daughter's wedding walima. I'm going to attend. Do you want to come with me? I know you must be tired of staying indoors for such a long time."

"No, Ummi." I pursed up my lips. "I'm already used to it. I will just stay here at home."

"Are you sure?"

I hummed.

Ummi didn't seem convinced by my response. "Go and get ready, I'm waiting for you."

"But Ummi, I said I don't want t—"

"Do as I say."

"Please, Ummi." I beseeched. "I really don't want to go anywhere."

"Not even to Farida's house?" She raised a brow.

"No—what? Farida's house?" I asked, surprised. I really didn't expect those words from Ummi. She took me by surprise.

"Go get ready. I will drop you there, then pick you up while returning from the walima."

"Thank you, Ummi." I smiled. "Thank you. I love you."

She maintained a straight face. "Go ahead, I don't want to be late."

•

Walking back to my room, I couldn't help, but feel some sort of way about accepting Ummi's offer to drop me off at Farida's place. Unlike before, Farida and I had drifted apart. I knew we were trying to mend our broken relationship and go back to the way we used to be, but I still couldn't help the discomfort whenever I was with her. We had been calling each other and chatting on social media on daily basis, but not one of us had visited the other since we returned from school. Farida had wanted to visit about a week ago, but I declined and came up with an excuse—an excuse that didn't even seem convincing to me myself.

It wasn't really a bad idea to visit her, but what I wanted to avoid so much, was bumping into Jawaad. After our last encounter, I wanted nothing to do with him anymore. The last thing I wanted, was to be ignored again. For a fact, I knew I wouldn't be able to bear it. It would indubitably make me feel bad about myself. I'd be force to think I am not good enough.

I walked into my room and to my surprise, Imran was still there. He was crouched, picking the pieces of paper from the floor. He stood and without saying a word to me, he walked out of the room. 

"He didn't have to clean it up though." I rolled my eyes.

In few minutes, I had changed into a  simple denim skirt, a white blouse and a toe-length pink hijab.

•

Assalamualaikum/hello!

So nobody likes Jawaad? 😂😂

Why nw? He's an handsome man 🥺🥺

Imran is annoying 😩

Do you think Manal doesn't have a good management of her anger?

Please let me know your thoughts in the comments 😌🙏

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