The Shades of Spring

Destiny Wakes

They say even rejections are a form of blessing from His Infinite Mercy to struggling slaves. When Ayaan discovered he'd blown his chance at Saint Laurent by a minor mix up of deadlines, this is what he repeated to himself on end. 
He refreshed and refreshed his inbox until it was crystal clear to him the whole overshot was his own fault and had no interference from any technological error. The only interference came from somewhere he'd handed his heart for healing.

Although part of him believed this was an answer to his continuous prayers, another part wondered why he couldn't just have both; his girl and some relief for his father's pocket. As all humans are inclined to, Ayaan was currently faced with a dilemma of tough choices.

The drafts blowing through his window was starting to lose some of its biting coldness with spring just a week or two away from painting the world with a lovely palatte of colours. He loved spring in Tenesk because it had such a lot of nature to gape at without blinking. He could drink in the beauty forever if he had that long. Ironically, he had to leave in the first week of spring which was too early for the first full blooms to nod through his bedroom window. After two long years of living in a concrete garden called Crest Falls, he was looking forward to spending a few happy weeks in mother nature's lap, perhaps longer if he found a good Law School. As it happened though, his enjoyment was destined elsewhere.

Spring made her a little crazy every year. No matter how similar each of those episodes looked to her parents, a strange fascination seized Sidra every time she saw the little buds poke through the ground thawed by a merciless winter. Today, she was prancing around the house making herself a candid nuisance to her exasperated family who pretended to hate her energy, but secretly thanked Allah for lifting her spirits.
She bounded between balcony and backyard, counting the blossoms and saplings growing under the bushes, by the picket fence and in her decorated pots neatly arranged by the balcony railing. Often times, she forced her brother to join her in her quest to find every single baby plant that dotted the land around them.

Unable to put up with anymore of her crazy flower talk, Hamza purposely left out the obvious plants just to make her send him away. His plan worked and he happily resumed painting in his room.

While Sidra prayed Asr in the solitude of her room, her mother entered to survey the clutter of notebooks strewn carelessly on the bed. She arranged them neatly on the study table and set about adjusting the bedspread with a practised hand. Only in early spring did one get to witness the otherwise immaculately clean room appear akin to a hurricane wreck.
"When you get married, I hope your husband is sane during spring," she commented to her daughter who hastily folded the prayer mat to take over the cleaning.

"I hope he enjoys this as much as I do. We will clean the place beforehand."

"I doubt that two of your type will live properly under a roof without the house becoming a garbage land in a week."

"That's harsh. I clean excellently, every one knows that. I just take extra time when it's pretty out there."

"Mhmm," Amanah reached for the curtain but Sidra pushed herself between it and her mother, successfully steering Amanah to a chair.

"What doth this fair lady want in the dwellings of a peasant?"

"About the proposal. Did you pray?"

"Twice. But I don't feel anything about it."

"You're telling me the truth, right? You actually prayed?"

"Wallah, I did. But this doesn't make me feel anything either."

"Okay. How's the library?"

A knowing spark ignited in her eyes as she observed her mother. "This is about that, isn't it? One year anniversary. You want to know how I'm holding up."