Uncover My Veil of Shame

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بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
"In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful"

"LAYLA"

Spoilt yet humble.
This was the definition of Layla's character. Outspoken, a capturer of hearts. So lively, so beautiful, so pure. The second daughter of a mildly-successful businessman.

She knew what struggles looked like. She had grown up with them. But just like how good times pass, the bad ones crossed too like a harsh sea breeze.

She learnt that one persons treasure can come from another persons trash. She knew what it felt like to sit across the broken roads, under the scorching sunny days of summer and stand by for poeple to acknowledge her father's small fruit-selling business.

Patience was the seed which her father planted, and ofcourse he reaped much sweeter fruits than the ones he sold in those days.
It was only by the power and grace of Him that he built a skyscraper of a business, at least something which could sustain their needs with room for opulence.

He always said that things bloomed after the birth of Layla. Just like a good luck charm. Which is why he adored her so much.
Even though she was the second daughter, she always was the special one.

"I'm coming maa!" she yelled.

She was late for college.

Her mother was waiting patiently downstairs, with a sparkling large glass of orange juice. It was the morning norm. Embrace the dawn, shower, pray, breakfast and then off to start the day.

Layla took one last look in the mirror. She was more than pleased with her appearance.
Curly hair, the color which strikes gold in the sun, hazelnut eyes which look like oceans of honey, and a smile which could change the direction of the wind.

"Did you pray fajar?" her mother asked.

"How could I not maa", she said whilst messing up her younger brother's hair.

"That's my girl".

Frankly speaking, morning prayer was her absolute favorite. She would sit on the prayer mat until the sun brought its dawning shine and placed its rays next to her on the carpet. She would pray for her parents, her desires, her destiny.

"Stop it apa, you're ruining my hair", Hanan said.

Layla gave him a mischievous smile, picked up a buttered slice of bread, screamed "asalamualaikum" and ran out the door to catch the bus.

"What about this juice Layla?!" her mother roared, but Layla was already halfway across the street.