When her father dies, Salma feels her world has been blown up by an atomic bomb. She caves into the grief and becomes a shadow of her once bubbly self. Her mother tries all she can to help her grieve 'healthily', but Salma doesn't want any of that...
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If there was an award for people who just loved to remind you over and over about something you already knew about, Mona would definitely take the cake. I groan, declining her call for the umpteenth time that Saturday morning. It was just 8:30 a.m and the photo shoot did not start until 10:30 a.m. But I guess Mona just wanted me to know I had promised to accompany her to the photo shoot with Rahim. I was still dressing up, putting my hair in a high bun. I was about to lay my edges, but with the pressure Mona was mounting on me, I could not. I checked myself in the mirror for the last time, and satisfied with my look, I left my bedroom.
"Are you ready?" Mom asked, sipping from her mug. She was in a velvet robe and her hair was in a bonnet. She had been a bit slow for the past few days after the visit of The Shameless Comrades. The doctor said it was normal for pregnant women and she seemed fine apart from her sluggish behaviour so I just brushed it aside. I dipped my phone into the pocket of my ripped jeans and sent a text to Mona.
Salma:
I'll be there. Stop calling!!
"Yeah, Mona's giving me too much pressure." I slumped into the sofa next to Mom. She chuckled, picking the remote from the coffee table.
"I mean, you can only imagine just how much this photo shoot means to her and what it would mean to her if you showed up. To witness an important milestone in her life," she replied, rubbing my shoulder. I nodded, clicking my tongue.
"I guess I must get going to the photo shoot. Bye Mom." I planted a kiss on her forehead, rising from the sofa. She nodded, waving. I returned the wave and got out of the house. But I stopped in my tracks when I noticed a black car by the gate. Leaning against the car was Rahim. He was in a white T-shirt and a pair of black Cargo Pants. His white sneakers looked brand new as I saw not a speck of brown on it. He looked sleek, casual and very good all at once. My cheeks heated up, but I slapped them a bit, noticing he was looking at me with a raised eyebrow.
"Are you okay?" he asked, walking towards me.
"Yeah," I replied, scratching the back of my neck. "I'm just surprised you're here."
"Mona called," at the mention of her name, I rolled my eyes. "She said you'd probably need a ride since your mom may not be able to drive to the venue, so I decided to pick you up." He pointed at his car. I nodded, mumbling a thank you as we walked towards the car. He opened a side door and bowed. I laughed at his gesture of chivalry and slid into the car.
"Thanks. At least I know chivalry isn't totally dead," I teased, earning a smile from him.
"Chivalry isn't dead at all. But sometimes, it just depends on the girl you're being courteous to," he replied, winking at me. Did he just... wink at me? If you needed a source of heat to fry your eggs, my cheeks would be a good source for that. I shifted in my seat as Rahim sat by me.
"Hamza, please send us to NaaStudios," he said. It was then that I noticed a bald middle-aged man was in the front seat. He looked amused, probably from watching the little exchange I had with Rahim. I tried not to look into the rear view mirror as the engine of the Porsche purred and eased onto the road.
