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Dahlia Ahmad arrived at her grandmother's house straight from Little Stars Elementary School.
Four times a week, Dahlia and Ibrahim were entrusted to take care of their grandmother - the stubborn old lady who still refused to budge from her beloved property. Now working around the busy schedule of each family member, they had a routine with the title Who's Keeping the Dragon? (Lily's contribution, of course) that hung on the door of their refrigerator.
Dahlia paid the Uber driver and stepped out of the car. Placing her sunglasses over her eyes, she started texting her brother. Ibrahim was supposed to meet her straight at Nargis' house since he got caught up in something and failed to pick Dahlia up from school.
She brought out her phone from her purse and typed in her phone as she walked on the narrow, pebbled pathway that led to the doorsteps.
Reached Grandma's. Where are you?
On the way. Btw, I invited Kaveh again. Knowing him, he should be there already.
Dahlia lowered her phone, perched her sunglasses over her scarf-covered head and took a deep breath. As she faced the door, she felt grateful for being forewarned about his presence. Sure enough, as she pressed the bell, Kaveh Fayyad opened the door for her.
"Assalamu 'Alaikum," he was the one to greet her first this time.
A small smile appeared on her lips. "Walaikum Assalam."
Kaveh stepped aside to let her in. Everyone else in the house had grown used to Kaveh's adamancy of opening the door himself if he was the one closest to it, and carrying the tea cups to the kitchen himself despite everyone's protests. Openly rebelling to their ingrained customs - as always, and also determined to not depend on anyone for menial chores.
Their grandmother's living room was now slowly turning into Kaveh and Ibrahim's workspace. Their spare laptop chargers had now permanently found homes in the multi-plug snaking across the sofa set, and files and envelopes were at all times neatly stacked besides Nargis' crystal decoration pieces.
Dahlia paused by the door, as Kaveh sat on the sofa that was soon becoming his spot. She ran her eyes over his features for a brief second before looking away, as his gaze now stayed intently on his laptop screen.
He didn't stick out in their grandmother's old-fashioned décor, even with his expensively made clothes and sleek gadgets. He looked like he belonged there, like he did even when she saw him at the fancy restaurants they had been to together. A modern man with an old soul, Dahlia couldn't think of any other way to describe him at that moment.
There was moment of hesitation on her part, but she decided to spill the words that were itching to expel from her.
"I learned what you did to get Faizan Iqbal's family off my back," Dahlia spoke.
