"Can people who hate you, ever love you?"
"People who hate you might specifically be the ones who love you."
Sequel of the book 'Under That Niqab' with a complete different story, but there will be few references.
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The echoes are hidden,
Am I in a...
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๑ 🥀 ๑
"Have you commenced your preparations?" Zumar nudges her seat from behind, leaning slightly to ensure her words reached Yusra's ears. She is perched in her chair, seemingly absorbed in the history lecture that had just concluded.
She lets out a sigh as if liberated from the dreary information the teacher had been disseminating.
"Ugh, no," she mutters, her head tilting slightly to the side. "I'm not enquiring about your progress since you're probably already started," she complains in a half-jesting tone.
"Both of you, hush!" scolds a male classmate, clearly irritated by their banter. The teacher was wrapping up important notes and their chatter was a distraction.
Both girls respond to his reprimand with a mixture of scornful glances and subtle eye rolls, acquiescing to his request and allowing the room to regain its quiet.
As the class finally draws to a close, a sigh of relief sweeps through them. They watch as the teacher exits the room, ushering in the spirited clamor of students ready to leave the classroom.
"Have you already packed your bag?" Zumar inquires, her gaze fixed on Yusra, who seems poised to depart the classroom.
"Yes, I have a task waiting at home," she replies, signaling her readiness to leave. Her words prompt Zumar to begin organizing her own belongings.
"Speaking of which, about the girl who penned the poem," Zumar brings up the topic again, capturing Yusra's attention. She had previously briefed her on the circulating school gossip, and her interest is piqued.
"What's the latest on that?" Amaan interjects, entering the conversation. The two of them swivel their heads in unison, finding him positioned with a single bag strap slung over his shoulder of his uniform, prepared to exit the room.
"I asked the junior who received the poem about its sender, and she threatened to report me for prying," Zumar shares, her expression turning into a slight grimace.
"I suspect that mystery will remain unsolved. With exams looming and club activities suspended, any lingering concerns will fade. And when those activities are resumed, we might not be here to witness it," he remarks with melancholy in his voice.
Meanwhile, Shazal joins the group, positioning himself behind Amaan as they both listen to the conversation, ready to leave the classroom in tandem.
Both girls assent with nods. "In any case, we should hurry for the bus," Yusra directs her words to Shazal, who acknowledges her cue by nodding. The subtle signal prompts the group to begin departing.
"Are you absolutely certain that you're going to have the conversation?" Shazal voice holds concern.
"I am," she affirms. As they find their seats on the bus, each taking their accustomed places, Yusra and Shazal settle at the outer edges of adjacent seats. The aisle, where students often pass through, separates them.
