From Aliya to Hafiz

One.

And she never asked for anything in return. She was just that good of a person.

But we couldn't be that shameless as people either. We also had our ethics and self-esteem. And so we took to taking care of her daily life, making sure she was always comfortable.

That was the only way for us to repay her; someone who had everything she could ever want.

"Ummi? What are you doing? I told you I'll do that when I get back," I rushed to my mother who was mopping the floor on her knees.

"You're back," she smiled in reply, dodging my hand that reached out for the towel she was holding.

"Ummi," I said helplessly.

"You're busy with school already. I know it's stressful especially since it's your final year. I'll handle all these miscellaneous things from now on," she continued mopping.

"Mother."

Sighing helplessly, she said, "Why are you nagging? Shouldn't you be happy you aren't going to be doing house chores?"

"Normally I would be. But only if you're not the one doing it in my stead. I can't let you stress and only watch," I frowned.

"Who said I consider it stress—you know what? This is going nowhere. How about this, You'll do weekends and I'll do weekdays."

"That's unfair to—"

"Plus cooking. Weekends plus dinner every night. It's fair now right?"

A smile bloomed across my lips at her exasperated expression. "Yes, Ummi." I hugged her with a small laugh.

"I swear you're the most annoying when you're nagging or disagreeing with something."

"I got that from you," I smiled sarcastically.

"Get up and wash up. Hajiya would be back soon, we need to get dinner ready before then."

"Yes."

Arriving in my room upstairs, a simple spacious room with only the essential furnishings and themed lavender and brown, I took a change of clothes from my wardrobe and entered the bathroom for a quick shower.

Dressed in navy blue joggers and a black long-sleeved shirt, I stared at my reflection in the foggy mirror. Well, I stared at my armpit bush of a hair.

No matter what I did to the stupid thing, it never grows, at all.

"Really resembles armpit hair," I muttered to myself half amused and half exasperated. "The good hair genes probably went to constructing my eyes and nose."

Laughing at my ridiculous thought process, I covered my hair with a black silk scarf and headed downstairs to start cooking.

By the kitchen sliding door was a noticed board with the month's food menu. After a short glance at it, I started prepping the ingredients. An hour and a half later, I finished setting up the table, Right as the front door opened Auntie Amina walked in.

Dressed in a silk peach abaya, the times that passed remained kind to her as she still looked young for a fifty-seven-year-old woman.

With her delicate and pretty facial features, she could totally be taken for my elder sister; and she's a year older than my mom.

And then there's me, a walking dinosaur with features like an asymmetrical abstract art.

With a short snicker at my expense, I approached the living room where my mom was helping Auntie with her laptop bag.

"Welcome back Auntie. How was work?" I smiled in greeting.

Her slightly tired eyes softened and a smile blossomed across her face. "Come here and give me a hug. I need to destress," she opened her arms up.