"I. Want. You."
These words kept playing in my head like a broken record. What does that mean? His eyes looked so devious when he said that. A shiver ran down my spine remembering how cold his eyes were. I washed away my face pack and proceeded to s...
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Women are strange creatures, we are made to love. Hating someone is very hard for us, even when the subject deserves it. In addition, we forgive easily too. A person could do the bare minimum to convince us and we'd be convinced. Be it flowers, gifts, or even a mere breakfast. Women are creation of love.
[ALARM BUZZING]
I opened my eyes and sat up. My head was hammering inside my skull. I winced in pain. When will these nightmares leave me? When will I sleep without the fear of re-living the same inferno? I turned over reaching out for my phone which was still buzzing. I turned the alarm off and stood up.
[Sigh]
I reached for my hair to tie before going to the restroom. Instead of hair, my hands feel fabric.
What?
Reached my both hands for my hair... Oh, it's my hijab. I forgot to take it off.
Relieved, I unpin the fabric covering my hair and walked for the door I see.
No. it's not a washroom. It's a small terrace. I shut it immediately due to the wind that was coming.
Another door, It's a walk-in closet. There is another door behind it.
God, is it a room or a maze?
Thankfully it's a bathroom.
I take off the clothes that I was wearing since my last shower at Nafisa Khala's home.
That being said I turned the shower on and stepped in.
That was a bad idea.
The cold water ran from my head to toe. I waited for it to get warm which slowly it did.
The shower filled with steam. My mother's voice rang inside my head, screaming that hot water would make my scalp dry but I cannot take chances with cold water as I do not want to die with hypothermia.
The products kept in washroom smelled delicious, I stepped out smelling like a fruit salad
I wrapped my hair in a lawn dupatta first and then patted dry my body.
Pro tip: never wrap your hair in thick fabric, i.e. towel but in a thin fabric like cotton and lawn.
I wrapped the bathrobe around me as I walked towards the sink. The reflection that the mirror showed was not much different but it definitely had a much-diluted shadow of grief over it than the girl in plane.
I looked for the dryer after applying hair tonic to my hair for moisture (can't risk dandruff when you are a hijabi) after finding it in the cabinets under the sink, I started to brush and dry my hair. My long black hair going down till my thighs took a while to dry completely. After drying hair I performed ablution and waited for my face and hands to dry before toning and moisturizing, applying hair oil to roots of my hair and scalp. By the time I walked out it was time for fajr prayer, which I performed in my room, sending my prayers to my family members up in heaven and recited Qur'an with translation. By the time my morning meditation had finished, I was starving. With giving the idea a consideration I walked down to the kitchen, my hijab was loosely set on my head and shoulders. An old metallic catcher was holding my bun under my hijab. A loose white Kurti and crème cotton pants were covering my body. It's been a time since I realized my brown skin looks best in white.
