Once Upon A Muslim

Chapter 22 | Crossroads

I am so sorry this is rushed. -_- I've been having the serious case of Writer's Block and staring at the screen for hours hasn't helped at all.

Enjoy. (If you can.)

***

I look down at the hijab clutched in my hand tightly. This is the same hijab I wore on the night of Hafsa's pre-wedding dinner. This scarf, somehow, has made that evening a disaster. It almost made Nadia take her life. It made Harun keep that from me. He never told me.

When I visited Nadia the other day, he didn't utter her name the way he did so with mine. It's like Nadia's nothing to him. But yet, he saved her.

I let go of the scarf and let it fall to the floor. That's the hijab Harun returned to me after I had that fight with Nadia. This one piece of fabric has somehow created an unspeakable turn of events.

No, no, it's not the hijab. What am I talking about? It's me. I've barged into everyone's lives. I'm the reason why all of this happened. But this is why I'm blaming the hijab. I don't want to believe that I've somehow caused this.

I pick up the hijab and fold it neatly. I set it on the bed, thinking it's ridiculous that I'm telling myself that a thing caused this. Ali's right. Things would be better if Harun didn't see me at the park, shivering from the bitter cold.

Since there's so much conflict going on, I'm deciding to leave. I'm going to leave soon... but I want to know the end of Harun's letter to me. I want to know who he was writing about. Could it be Nadia?

It could be. Boys mask their feelings for a girl most of the time.

I sigh as I sit down on my bed. I don't want to leave this place, but sooner or later, I have to go back home with my family. All I'm doing being present here is wrecking havoc. And who knows? By now, my mom must have called the police to search for me. But I highly doubt it.

Mom. I haven't uttered that word in a long time. Those three sole letters haven't left my lips in what, two months? Other than the time I called Ruwayda 'mom' or ever since I've bumped into Kara?

I stand up and walk to the dresser. I retrieve the locket I received from Hafsa. It's still empty, no smiling faces to add warmth, comfort, and completeness. I trace the outline of the cool locket with my finger, scrutinizing the precise details carefully. Golden vines wrap around the heart-shaped locket. A big rose is carved on the center. I put on the locket, making sure to keep it close with me. It's one of the few special things I possess now.

I close it shut and tuck it behind my shirt. A knock sounds from the door. I put on my hijab and yell "Come in!" as I tuck loose strands of my hair under my hijab. Usually, it's Ruwayda who stops by my room, but I put on my hijab just in case one of the boys walk by in the hallway and see me. Instead, Ali timidly walks in, being slightly positioned behind the door. I arch an eyebrow as he looks at me blankly.

"I'm sorry."

I think I didn't hear correctly, since I just heard him apologize. To me. "Sorry?" I ask for clarification. I don't want to keep my hopes high too much.

He shrugs. "And don't tell anyone, or you'll regret it." Once he notices that I don't flinch at his empty threat, he just sighs and looks down at the floor. "I was crap when I found out Hafsa would get married. I didn't like the fact that you moved into her room and it just reminded she'll never live here again. I still miss her, you know? I wish I wasn't so distant then so I could have spent time with her more often."

"Oh," is my meek reply.

He nods and leaves the room without saying a word. A sigh as I hold my face in my hands before composing myself and heading downstairs. As I walk into the leaving room, I see Faiza doing her homework while Farhan screams at the TV, saying things like "Noooo! That's a foul!" and "It's a yellow card, not a red. The dude only fractured his wrist..."