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Eyes don't speak.
Heart does.

06/05/2024Monday

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06/05/2024
Monday

I would not say it was easy. My head is heavy as I stare at myself. A beige hijab is tightly pinned around my face. My head is in pain because I cried again last night. I didn't want to but I miss Dad. It's my first day of school. I feel like I am going to middle school. I had never changed schools and settling in a new city and new environment makes me want to grow anxious and panic.

I remember what my Dad used to do whenever it's my first and last day of every academic year. He would buy me an ice-cream, pista flavored ice cream. I went to the dining room. Mom was having breakfast seated in the head chair. I sat opposite her.

"Assalamualaikum!" I say as I sit. My maternal uncle, Ateeq uncle is also here. I smiled at him. He did as well but I knew he noticed my red eyes. His smile kind of slowed down as he noticed. He greeted me back but Mom didn't. She never did.

"Walaikum salam bachi. Are you ready for today? Nervous?"

"A little." I poured myself some tea and took a sip. The cook kept a hot plate of freshly made dosa. Just the view of dosa made my heart pleased. I smiled at her. "You are not supposed to be nervous. You are my daughter. I am Dariah Rehmaan. You need to be perfect."

"She is a kid-"

"She is seventeen, Ateeq. She has to learn things by now. She is imperfect in accountancy. I can't believe she is my daughter who is not perfect in accounts."

Here we go again. Mom loves to do this every morning. She thinks that it would hype me up. It doesn't. It just clearly destroys my mental health and plays with my mind.

"Mom please. Not today-"

"I am telling you again. You need to score first. You can't go by second just because you score less in that. Start studying by today..." She loves talking in between. She thinks it makes her words more confident and gives more power. At this point I can't seem to live with her. Instead I was here just surviving. She isn't stopping either. I get her scolding on math more than my accounts lectures itself. She wasn't stopping. I did my breakfast and took my chai to my room as she scolded me again for not having discipline by staying and hearing her words. The truth is, she would never stop.

I drank my tea in my room and gave myself a last look before I went out towards the car. We weren't too rich but we were rich enough to live the life we love. The entire ride I thought about how I would I hate rich people. The ones who have too much power. The ones who can change rules and things just for them. I hate them. I have always hated them. Not like they did any harm to me but to others they did. So it still hurts to know that there are people out there being outrageous about the amount of zeros they have in their bank account. It always manages to shit up my mind.

The car enters the school and I felt no less than regret for joining here. I should have known yesterday that the architecture here meant something. That is for rich people I hate. The students seemed extremely hooded with attitude up in their noses and money up in their pockets. The girls had painted their faces with makeup whereas the boys were busy kicking each other as they played up the brand new iPhone 14 plus of the student they were bullying in the ground. I bet he is from the middle class. Ain't no way they just played with his phone. Wait a minute! Phones are allowed here?

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