Something Fairytale-ish

Something Mulan-ish Part XI

The two days went by in a flash, and before she knew it, Huriyah was exchanging tearful goodbyes with her father and best friend before departing to Medinah.

"You have to visit me more often!" Hakim insisted as he tightly hugged his daughter.

"I know Baba, I will try my best," Huriyah assured him, her arms tightly gripping her father, and her face buried in his chest. She inhaled his familiar musk, trying to imprint it in her brain.

"I love you," she whispered, forcing her tears back.

"I love you too," he said as he kissed the top of her head. "Now go before I change my mind about you leaving!"

Huriyah laughed before turning to her best friend. Laylah didn't even bother to hide her tears.

"You better come see me too, got it," she said as she tightly embraced her friend.

"Got it," Huriyah chuckled as she hugged her friend back. The two broke apart and Huriyah mounted her camel.

"Bye everyone," she waved as she rode off to meet Harith, who had already bade his farewells to his father.

"Shall we?" he asked her.

"We shall," she said. And with that, the two began their week-long ride back to Medinah.

...

Huriyah and Harith sat across from each other in his hut, working as usual. She had chosen to keep her secret identity hidden for the time being so that she could still work, though she told the little rascals her secret. They took the news quite well, surprisingly, and A'asal was rather enthusiastic about it, because now Huriyah could be her big sister.

"What are you thinking about?" Harith asked upon noticing that Huriyah's brush had stopped moving.

"Nothing really, just about everything that's happened," she mumbled. Harith nodded and resumed working.

The hours went by and Huriyah returned home to a surprise.

"Miss Huriyah, a package arrived for you," A'asal informed her as soon as she stepped into her hut.

"Oh really, from whom?" Huriyah asked as she took the package from the little girl.

"From your father I believe," A'asal answered.

"Okay thank you," she told her before going to her room to open the package. Inside was a long, white dress with various golden patterns on it, a khimar, and a face veil. A note fell out.

My dear Huriyah,

This was the dress your mother wore on our wedding day. I am entrusting it with you. Put it to good use.

Your loving father,

Hakim (and Nouri, he was the one that wrote this letter)

Huh? Huriyah wondered in confusion. Put her mother's wedding dress to good use? How was she supposed to do that if she wasn't getting married?

"Baba you don't make sense sometimes," she muttered to herself as she stood up to put the dress away. A glint caught the corner of her eye; she turned to see the long mirror in her room reflecting the light of the setting sun. Huriyah found herself drifting to the mirror, her dress in hand, and when she stood in front of the mirror, she held the dress up to her neck. Her reflection gazed back at her, a little, frail girl who was playing dress up with her dead mother's old clothes.

Without a second thought, she turned away from the mirror and quickly put the dress away. Her father was getting old and didn't know what he was talking about. She shouldn't let his words bother her.