• A WATTPAD FEATURED STORY •
• highest rank | #92 in mystery/thriller •
Having two business partners for parents meant they worked extra long shifts, and possibly, an addition of night shifts. Therefore, being alone at home in the middle of the nigh...
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Yasmeen Kafhari would often say that the sun shining on a cold day meant good things were coming. Just before she passed away, anyway.
Mia was a toddler then, only three years old, with no memories of her soulful and buyoant mother; only those told in stories by her father or the dusty, blurry, photographs of her at a young age. Possibly in her twenties, sporting a cigarette in between her fingers and crimson lips. Her father told her things, many things, tales and riddles of who Yasmeen Khafari was.
With a hard head, and a sharp tongue, he reminded me of her; a beautiful soul with a beautiful mind.
She died of lung cancer. It was sudden, and despite the circumstances, unpredictable. She was young -- far too young, only a month until her twenty-seventh birthday, but then she was just gone; wretched away from Mia's grasp, leaving only a crystal mist of a person behind, along with a baby girl, and a lonesome father to mend the dull ache in their hearts.
Sometimes, Mia is relieved she doesn't remember any of it at all.
That particular Monday morning was a sunny one. A smile graced Mia's featires as she watched how inky sunrays filtered the canopy of trees surrounding the trees, the gold sun circled by a blue canvas. Good things, she thought as the rays bathed her with warmth against the biting chill of the breeze.
Mia had always lived a rather ordinary life, including any minor complications, which was inevitable. She didn't grow up without a mom, but she always had Louise by her side, helping her grow to the girl she was today. So, yes, she lost her mom to cancer at the age of three.
But at the age of six, Louise entered her life with her big smiles, warm hugs, and curly afro, not to mention her dad remained by her throughout it all. Her life was good.
But she still couldn't help but think: good things, mom, the image of Yasmeen's red lips and charcoal eyes smiling down at her.
"I don't want to get in, just yet, Mia," she heard Beverley sigh from beside her, her breathing coming out shaky in nerves.
Everyone had good things to say about Bev, always. If she was talked about, it was for kind reasoning, a chorus of praise for the girl who helped and the girl who bettered.
