MANAL

39: Manal

I sat in my room, thinking of how fast time had passed. I had returned home from school since three weeks ago, but it seemed just like yesterday. In a week or less, I'd be going back to school. As the day drew closer, I realized I wasn't as happy as I thought I'd be. I wasn't sad—that was for sure, but there was this eerie feeling lingering in my mind—a feeling I couldn't quite fathom.

I reclined backwards in the wooden chair and stretched out my legs. It was almost evening; the sun had hidden and the weather was cool. Unlike other days, to some limited extent, I enjoyed my day. I was able to make a painting I had been wanting to make for the longest time. It was a simple painting of nature—the serene, blueish sky, the green grasses and tall trees..

With a satisfied smile tugging at my lips, I admired the piece of art I had created. To be honest, it looked like a piece from a professional. I couldn't believe I made it. It seemed surreal.

As a kid, Abii had always encouraged me to go into art, because according to him, he had already seen the potentials in me early. Initially, I had taken it seriously, but as years passed, procrastination found a dwelling place in me.

Asides painting, I also had a massive interest in drawing. I would admit I wasn't too good at it, but I was willing to learn. Someday, I want to be able to make a drawing of a house—my dream home. I knew it might sound juvenile to certain people, but I didn't really give a damn about 'other' people's perceptions. It was what I wanted and I would indisputably go for it. Soon.

My mind, all of a sudden, drifted to Jawaad. All I had wanted and prayed for, was for him to notice me—to at least make an effort to know me. But each time we met, it was always the same thing. He would ignore me, like it was the most normal thing in the world. The part that got to me every time, was how he had never looked at me for more than a second. Islamically, I knew it was the right thing for him to lower his gaze, but the way he did it the last time, gave me the impression that I disgusted him. But for what? In spite of how hard I searched within my soul to get an answer to my question, the result was futile. Perhaps, Farida must had brainwashed him about me.

"No..." I shook my head and puffed out air from my mouth. Farida wouldn't do that. "But what if she did, you dummy?" I hit myself on the forehead.

Ummi was right when she said I trusted people too easily. Farida had betrayed me. She broke the trust I had in her, yet a part of me still believed she had my best interest at heart.

How stupid of me!

"Why am I even stressing myself with these thoughts?" I huffed. "If he doesn't like me, it's his loss."

His loss.

"Manal!" Imran's irksome high-pitched voice startled me.

"Manal." He called again; his time, his voice lower. "Can I come in?" He asked.

"You can come in." I responded.

Imran pushed open the door and walked in; his eyebrows hitched.

I was tempted to ask him what it was with the look, but I kept the Inquisition to myself.

"What's wrong with you today?" He chuckled.

I frowned. "Why are you asking me that? Do I look sick? I'm alright."

He chuckled again. "Actually, you are extra nice today, so I'm here wondering why. Typically, you'd have scolded me for yelling out your name the way I did. You wouldn't have given me permission to enter your room and you wouldn't be speaking to me so nicely."

"So you actually knew you'd get me riled up by yelling my name the way you did, but you still did it anyways." I sneered. "Now I get it; you do all these things to annoy me, don't you?"