Between the Grapevines

17. Sab'ata 'Ashar (P. 1)

At the statement, Amer rolled his eyes and raced back down.

The front door's lock clicked when Riyad turned the key, carefully stepping into the silent apartment. He peered around the empty space but knew he would not find the girl in the darkness of the kitchen and bedroom. Then his hearing caught on the shower water running past the closed bathroom door and he realized where she'd gone.

While the bedroom was empty, Riyad stepped in to change from his dirtied clothes into something cleaner and comfortable. He slipped on a short-sleeved café-colored thobe he found in Amer's drawers, appreciating the width of the collar. He did not have to push his arms through nor tug it over his bandaged head. Riyad buttoned the first button only.

When he stepped out of the room, he no longer heard the shower water running. Instead, his attention caught on a subtle hum echoing faintly in the bathroom to his right as he neared the couch. He paused in his steps at the sound of Harakat's quiet singing, the words muffled by the echo of her hum against the bathroom walls. Still, he shifted a step closer to hear her voice, a faint smile tugging at the edges of his lips.

Her voice was not soft nor delicate. It had raspy undertones and a pleasant depth behind each vowel she sang as she tried to keep her volume low. Even then, it blended smoothly each word she pronounced in a melodic rhythm that made Riyad want to remain silent and listen to her sing for the remaining hours of the night.

But then the bathroom door opened and his eyes raised from where he stood in the center of the living room to meet the girl's. She flinched at his appearance, the towel towering above her head nearly toppling forward onto her face from her sudden stop. Riyad quickly recognized the black thobe that seemed far too big for her.

She opened her mouth to speak and Riyad felt himself shift forward, ready to hear what she had to say. Then her brows twitched and she closed her mouth again, an unhappy expression settling over her features.

Harakat secured the towel above her head before moving past him and into the bedroom. Riyad took a moment to remember the look that had dimmed her features then turned after the girl, but the bedroom door closed just as he took a step to follow her.

He lifted his hand to knock then hesitated, unsure whether he should disrupt what she was doing or simply wait for her to come out. But the door opened just as he reached forward to knock. Harakat didn't seem as surprised to see him that time.

She stepped past.

"Harakat," he called, slowly turning to follow the girl's movements with his gaze. She stopped and redirected her attention to him, one eyebrow raised with visible tension that Riyad only met with further cluelessness. "Shoo malek? What's wrong?"

Riyad had searched the words silently spoken through her eyes for long enough to understand them even now. He read her displeasure through the tightness between her brows and the disappointment that weighed on a settling pout over her lips. His gaze shifted toward her crossed arms and the rest of her body's unamused stance. "Have I done something?" He asked.

She turned away from him. Refusing him her voice and her gaze.

"Harakat," Riyad dropped his tone, taking a step toward the girl who mirrored it with her own step away from him. He lifted his hands in defense and remained in his place. "Has your voice left you again?"

She frowned at him, meeting his gaze for only a second before pulling it back toward the bathroom door left ajar. Then her lips parted and Riyad's body seemed to reject every other noise, lifting the words that would leave her mouth above everything else. "I'm not speaking with you," she spoke slowly and quietly so he would not ask her to repeat herself.