Once Upon A Muslim

Semi-Chapter 9 | Ali | Make Each Moment Count

Okay, so I need to address something to you guys before you start reading.

Please be patient with me. I'm juggling school with weekend classes at the masjid and on top of that, I joined a club and I also have to start on my service hours. This is a lot for me, adding Wattpad on to the list.

This feels like a job with everybody asking me to update. I apologize if I appear harsh to you, but I feel pressurized, and I don't like that. I don't want to think of this as a job. I want to think of it as my hobby and passion. If I don't update regularly, then you can remind me to update. But not after 2 days after updating. I try to update at least once a week.

By the way, I'm typing this Author's Note up I have homework to get done. This is how important you guys are to me. Believe or not, you guys somehow cheered me up (more information is in A Compilation of Raw Honesty and Rants under Depression in my rant book) through a rough time.

I know how it feels like. I always wait ages for someone to update as well. But have patience, okay? Those with sabr are the best. I'm sorry for the lengthy Author's Note. Enjoy. :)

***

I comb my hair as my dad calls my name and tells me to hurry up. I sigh as I set the comb down and take one last look in the mirror - I might as well look decent at my sister's wedding. I never knew this day would arrive so fast; it was just yesterday that Hafsa taught me how to tie my shoelaces.

I shake my head before I start to reminisce the past when I had more time to spend with her. It's not worth it, reminding myself that today, she'll no longer live here. She'll be under Luqman's care. She won't have enough time for me.

And maybe she'll have kids.

God, I hate kids. They're so annoying. Farhan and Faiza are an example. They mess up everything and are too loud and uncontrollable. If only my mom wasn't so lenient towards them. "Ali! How many times do I have to call you? Your sister is almost finished getting ready!"

I sigh again as I drag my feet down the hall. Of course, I'm happy for her. But she's also leaving me. Fourteen years doesn't satisfy how much time I want to get to know and love my older sister. After that day Hafsa and my parents told me about Luqman, my behavior started to change. My thoughts, words, and actions became darker and insensitive.

I knock on my sister's door. After some shuffling inside, a girl says "Come in!" in an annoyingly high-pitched voice. I open the door and awkwardly look around before I spot my sister, her back facing towards me.

"Who is it?" she asks. I take in her sight, which is one that I barely see since my sister despises being a girly girl (which I don't mind). Her hair is in a complex bun, various pins holding it up in place. As she turns around in her chair and glances at me, she smiles brightly, and extends her arms. Her henna stops short at her elbow. Her makeup is done heavily, but in a delicate and precise way. "Ali!"

I awkwardly walk towards her and embrace her in a quick hug. It's kind of not my thing to show affection for someone in public (private in this case, kinda, but still) since people would think I'm all mushy. And to add on to that, the room has girls everywhere.

"Aww," one girl gushes. I roll my eyes in annoyance and stalk off towards the door.

"By the way, Hafsa, you look amazing." That's a first for me. I don't tend to compliment people much. "I hope you have a happily married life. I don't want to see you go, but things happen for a reason. I hope Luqman takes good care of you." Before I can hear anymore squeals, I quickly leave the room and close the door with a thud. I descend down the stairs and head straight to the foyer.