The Girl in The Green Scarf

F o r t y - f o u r

C H A P T E R

44

- H a m s a -

The first thing my eyes land on when I wake up is the white dress strewn languidly on my dresser.

My wedding dress.

I close my eyes, sucking in a deep breath to calm myself down.

It has been three days, but I still can't wrap my head around the idea of getting married, I mean, only a week ago I would have said I'm never getting married. Ever.

But it is happening. And whenever I start freaking out, I remind myself that this is Zayn; we've known each other and been best friends our whole lives. If it's not him, then I don't know who it could be.

My room is dimly lit, chilly morning breeze flowing in from the open window.

I toss and turn, kicking the covers further away from my feet.

Even though I've slept immediately after praying Esha last night, I feel exhausted. Perhaps it is all the dreams about tomorrow draining me; I've read somewhere before that dream-making is a complex reaction that requires a lot of energy.

But I have to get up now, Lamees and the girls will be here in a bit, a gathering like old times to celebrate this occasion - and in Lamees' words to celebrate that she's the only bachelorette left in our group.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, a slow excited smile drawing itself on my face.

"You look as beautiful as ever."

I jerk at the familiar sound, my eyes flying around the room for its source.

Only then do I notice the person sitting casually on my windowsill, the light from behind him making him a silhouette.

Numbly I rise from my bed, cold prickling down my neck.

"My dear Misa."

I must be in a dream-a nightmare.

An invisible hand of horror wraps around my throat as he unfolds his hands and gets off the windowsill, drawing closer to me. I shuffle backwards, feeling heat rise behind my eyelids.

I expect him to disappear once the light falls on his face, but he stands solid. His hair is just the same, so are his eyes. Nothing out of place.

"Did you miss me?" He asks, his fingers around my chin all too real.

"But... but you're..." is all I can muster.

A mischievous-somehow despaired smile pulls at his lips. "Dead?"

All I can do is remember how to breathe.

"Well," he says, inspecting at his fingernails as if for remains of blood. "Lucky for me, your friend isn't a good shooter." He pats his chest. "He missed all the important organs."

I want to say it's because Sebastian had no experience killing people, but my mouth hangs slack and dry.

Uncle Yusuf moves around me, placing his hands on my shoulders. I cringe under his touch, almost stepping away from him.

"I wanted to come home, to tell you I was fine. But after your escape it was never safe enough for me to leave the camp without drawing attention to our connection," he says. "Even sending you that letter was a risk. So is me being here right now."

His hands fall away, and he walks towards my dresser, skimming a finger over the green ribbon around the dress's waist.

"But I was around town and heard talk of your wedding!" he exclaims exuberantly. "I had to stop by to congratulate you and give my dua's for you and Zayn."