Love and Hate

Chapter One

Yasmeen

I stir from my sleep around 7:30a.m and I picked my phone from the grey beside drawer where I normally place it. I unlocked my phone and saw three missed calls from an unknown number by 6a.m and immediately my eyes flew open, I was sacred hoping it’s not a bad news, because who calls someone this early.

I usually put my phone on silent when going to bed because I hate when notification sound interrupts my sleep, so I decided to call the person back.

After a few ring...

The person on the other end didn’t even wait for my response, he just started ranting
“Guy kasan mey? (guy do you know what?), Ismail's father just died this morning, I have been trying to reach you, please if you coming branch Lilo's house to pick him please-”

“Uhm hello, I guess this is a wrong number.”

He immediately stopped talking when he heard it was a feminine voice at the other end.

“Oh my God! I am so sorry, whoever it is please I am so sorry for the early morning call.” He Then cut the call.

I Was still trying to process what just happened, and then an incoming call came again from that same number, I was reluctant to pick but I did.

“Hello.”

Instead he replied me with a proper greeting, “Assalamualykum (peace be unto you.), Hello good morning.”

“Walykumusallam (may peace be upon you.), morning.”

“Please I am so sorry once again for calling at this time. I wanted to call my friend, I actually didn’t have his number on this phone so I copied it, mistakenly I changed the last two digits-”

“Seriously it’s okay. I heard you talking about death, I am so sorry for the loss, May Allah shower his mercy on Him."

“Ameen. Thank you, I am Bilal Ahmad, can I save your contact and call some other time just for pleasantries.” I heard him hold his breathe waiting for my reply.

“No problem, I am Yasmeen Muhammad.”

“Alright do take care. Bye.”

“Bye.”

And just like that the call ended and I smiled to myself wondering what the hell just happened this morning. Well he do have an amazing voice.
I smacked my face and sat on my bed before I start day dreaming and analysing stuff in my head.

I looked around at my messed up room, my clothes all on the floor, makeup all scattered on my dressing mirror table. My room is a mixture of black and grey colour, the curtains are black and my centre carpet is black and white. But every other thing is either white or grey.

I am a fan of dull colours and not the girlish colours, my room is big enough  and I have a walk in closet which is sharing the same door that leads to the toilet, a mirrored wardrobe facing the bed, my plasma TV is on the left side of the room facing the window where there is a two-seater sitting perfectly there and a mini glass centre table, and the dressing mirror is just by my side at the right side of the bed
I sight and got up to wash my mouth and face and made a mental note to come back and arrange my room after breakfast since I will be home all day.

***

Stepping out of my room, the house is too quiet. Our house is a duplex, all our rooms are up and there is a small parlour up here too, but the guys have their flat at the back of the main house.

I wanted to knock on Mummy's room but I let her be afterall it’s weekend she needs alot of rest due to how draining her work is.

I went downstairs and stopped at the foot of the stairs observing the house, there is the main parlour which is mostly filled with the family pictures, at the corner is the dinning area. My eyes landed on Daddy’s framed picture which he was in his uniform, which is just above the huge television.

I felt a little pang in my chest, before I get all emotional I made a quick silent prayer for him to be in better place and I hurried to the kitchen which was just behind me.

Father died last 2 years in a plane crash, then I was 20 years old and in my first year in school.

I met Aunty Hauwa our cook who was almost done making breakfast. “Inna kwana (good morning), Aunty Hauwa.” I greeted her respectfully just how I greet my elders.

“Morning my dear, come breakfast is ready.” She dragged my cheeks which she loves doing every day.

“Ouch! Aunty Hauwa it’s okay. What did you make and you didn’t call me to help you.” I pout.

“Don’t worry my dear, just help me set the table but feel free to fetch your food till your fill. Don’t wait for those hungry lions o.”

I laughed and did as she said. She prepared fried chips, yam and scramble egg. But I just went with the fried chips and egg and made black tea, because I am a huge tea lover.

Aunty Hauwa is already part of our family, she’s like the second mother figure to me, she has been with us since Mummy gave birth to Ya Farouk (Ya, short cut for yayah. Which is used in the presence of an elder sister or brother), literally before I was born.

We are six. Ya Sadiq, Ya Khaleed, Ya Farouk, then Me the only girl, Khalifah and Naseem Mummy’s boy.

After I finished setting the table and sat down to eat my food, I picked my phone to face time my close friend Nusaiba who is already in school at Sudan, to gist her about this morning because I am eager to tell someone.

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