Two Brothers, One Heart (Rewriting)

Chapter twenty~seven 27

Islam returned home from the bustling market, brimming with excitement to share her culinary skills and spread happiness. She warmly greeted Goggo, who was comfortably seated in the living room, engrossed in the magazines that Khalid had left on the table. Goggo, a true housewife in her prime, had a workaholic nature and her gold-rimmed glasses added a touch of elegance as she immersed herself in the pages.

As Islam made her way through the house, she couldn't help but notice the meticulous arrangement of every corner, creating a serene and inviting atmosphere. The scent of coconut wafted through the air, making the house even more appeasing to the senses.

Eager to get comfortable, Islam swiftly ascended the flight of stairs, leaving behind her tweed jacket. She traded it for a cozy oversized t-shirt adorned with a cute bear design, giving her a relaxed and carefree vibe. Unclasping her earrings, she adorned her head with a pink cap, adding a playful touch to her ensemble.

With her preparations complete, Islam descended the stairs, ready to embark on her generous mission. However, she refrained from praying at that moment as she was in the midst of her period.

Just then, Firdausi emerged from her room, sporting a casual outfit of shorts and a tank top that accentuated her figure.

"So you've finally decided to stick around. You've been going out a lot lately," Islam remarked.

"At least I don't have to spend all my time with the old lady," Firdausi retorted, shrugging her shoulders.

"She's not as strict as she used to be. She's actually become quite kind," Islam replied.

"You say that now," Firdausi replied skeptically.

With that, Islam made her way back to the kitchen and chose a brown apron with white polka dots, her favorite color being brown to match her beautiful brown skin.

First, she prepared a refreshing cup of herbal lavender tea for Goggo, before preheating the oven to a toasty 475°F (245°C). Then, she began making the pizza dough from scratch, not settling for the store-bought kind. She mixed flour, yeast, salt, water, and a touch of olive oil, kneading it all into a smooth dough and allowing it to rise for an hour.

During the hour, Islam relaxed in her cozy, yet slightly messy room, sprawled on her bed, flipping through cookbooks and learning how to make kullusuwa.

Once it was ready, she rolled out the dough on a floured surface and transferred it onto a pizza stone. She started with a layer of tomato sauce, then sprinkled on some shredded mozzarella cheese. She added sliced vegetables, cooked meat, and pineapple. Carefully placing it in the preheated oven, she allowed it to bake for fifteen minutes until the crust was golden and the cheese was bubbly and melted. Then, she sliced it into triangular shapes, let it cool, and packaged it in the pizza box she bought from the bakery.

She gave Goggo and Firdausi some of the pizza, and they loved it! Goggo even motivated her to open a food store because she thought she was good at it. She sent some to Aunty Jamila and Mrs. Avery, their next-door neighbors, and they were delighted.

Making pastries has become her go-to leisure activity when she's bored. And to spread some joy, shw sent the remaining slices to the Courage Center for the little children to enjoy.

**

The next morning at school, after the first lesson period, which was Social Studies, Firdausi was talking to Mubarak in the corridor about the mishap from the other day.

"You know you shouldn't have done that," she reprimanded him.

"He was going to hurt you. You know I won't tolerate anyone raising even a finger on you," he said. "I need to go, coach needs me now."

"Okay, bye," she said, then started climbing the stairs where she met Umar standing at the balcony, looking at the expansive field downstairs. She was smiling but quickly hid it with a neutral face.

"Hi," she said, standing beside him. She felt different when she was around him - nervous, shy, and butterflies. She always got butterflies in her belly when he was around. He flashed a smile at her and continued looking down. She always wanted to read his thoughts, but his eyes, like Mubarak's, were not readable.

It all started when she was eleven years old and he was around thirteen or fourteen. They lived in their old house while the Nagogos were their neighbors across the road. Back then, she was obsessed with having a bicycle, but her mom said she would get one when she became the first in her class. Mubarak had gotten a big one with Spiderman prints when he was twelve. He was boastful and didn't want her to touch it, which made her cry.

Every evening, she would sit on the cemented floor next to their gate, watching Sadia teach Umar how to ride a bicycle while they raced with their bikes. Sadia, who was around fifteen to sixteen years old, looked really cute to Firdausi.

Then, one evening on a Wednesday, Umar asked her to ride his bicycle, even though she was an amateur rider. He helped her hold the bike while she rode in euphoria. That was it. Sparks flew, and her heart began to beat for him.

She lived with this intense infatuation for years until they moved to their new house. On that day, she cried uncontrollably, and Zaynab thought it was because she loved her new room so much. Little did Zaynab know that it was the pain of leaving someone she had loved for years.

And there he stood, beside her, completely unaware of her feelings. She quickly left for her Literature in English class, trying to push aside thoughts of him.

**

After school, Islam received a message from Yasmeen, who was Zayyad's younger sister and the only family member in Kaduna.

"Let's meet at Habil," the message read.

Islam rolled her eyes in weariness, then changed into a luxurious off-white maxi gown with sneakers. She grabbed her bag and drove away. Yasmeen had never been supportive of their relationship. She despised them and always kept herself away in the Ahmadu Bello University hostel.

When she arrived at Habil, she saw Yasmeen sitting at the first table, sipping her drink from a small cup with a luxurious air. Islam sat down with her, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension, and rested her hand on the table.

"I told you that you wouldn't get away with this," Yasmeen said, a hint of malice in her voice. She handed Islam her phone, revealing various pictures of Islam with Zayyad.

"This is evidence to show your parents that you're still dating my brother," Yasmeen threatened.

Islam's heart raced. She knew the consequences of her parents finding out. Desperation filled her voice as she asked, "You know you can't do that. What do you want?"

"Even if you delete it, I have tons more. Just give me five hundred thousand, and I'll seal my mouth," Yasmeen said with a sinister smirk.

"That's half a million! Just promise me you'll delete them," Islam pleaded.

"Of course," Yasmeen replied, her smirk growing wider. She had always been a sadistic girl, even when they were younger. She was the joy killer of everyone.

Islam arrived home, slamming the door to her room, her mind racing with thoughts of what would happen if her parents found out and how they would react.

Feeling the urge to call Zayyad, she hesitated, knowing that talking to him would only reopen old wounds. With a sigh, she tossed her phone onto the soft comforter of her bed and leaned back, her head tilting backward in a mix of distress and frustration. In that moment, she felt like a damsel in distress, caught in the tangled web of her emotions.

Stay tuned.
See you in the next chapter.