So like, I survived a near death experience today because of a packet of doritos...my mum put them in the oven and forgot about them and then nek minit half our kitchen is on fire. SubhanAllah it's kinda scary how quickly things change within the span of a minute. Two seconds in and my eyes were burning and I was coughing my lungs out.
Unsurprisingly, I was reminded of death and how quickly that could've killed me if the fire had caught onto our kitchen curtain.
Anyways my little (sad) story of the day. Make dua for me and enjoy this very long chapter!
#Chapter Forty Eight#
I mumbled incoherently and shifted from my curled up position. "Mmm."
"Sameena it's almost one in the afternoon!"
I felt my brother tug the covers off my body.
"I don't care Samir!" I grumbled, wrestling the bed covers from his hands.
There was a moment of silence. Then, "I made waffles with strawberries and extra melted chocolate..."
I shot up out of bed so fast, that my forehead collided with Samir's chin. A twinge of pain shot through my forehead and I groaned loudly as I fell back against my pillow, clutching one hand to my head. "Samir! I might get a migraine now!" I complained, rubbing at the bruised spot.
"Hello?! I'm surprised you didn't break one of my teeth! Seriously, you act like you've never eaten waffles in your life," he complained as he strode into my bathroom.
"That's because every time I eat waffles it's like a new world has been opened up to me."
"OK, calm the dramatics," he responded as he walked back into the room, rubbing at his red chin. "Yallah, get dressed and come down."
"OK, OK," I grumbled, sitting up properly.
It's been two weeks since I was released from the hospital and according to Dr Hersi - and Tariq - I was healing up just fine.
Yet although my physical scars were slowly fading, the ones left upon my mind were taking a much longer time. I had constant nightmares about the night and the exact moment that I was shot. I would wake up soaked in my own sweat, feeling like I had just survived death by a second. If I wasn't having a nightmare I was laying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, too frightened to close my eyes incase Ahmad's lifeless body made an appearance. I could vividly recall the way Tariq held me to his shaking body, his tears dropping onto my face and sliding down until they reached my quivering lips. I remembered all too well the feeling of my heart rate slowing down and my breaths becoming shallower by the second.
Every time I closed my eyes I thought about Omar's crushed face. I knew that Ahmad's loss was too much for him and I encouraged him to take some time off; after all, they were like brothers. You could never sight Ahmad without Omar being attached to his hip.
A loud sigh escaped my lips and I shut my eyes for a few more seconds, contemplating whether I should just go back to sleep.
I was exhausted; mentally and emotionally.
However, my brother's words about the waffles came back to me and I realised that I was actually starving. I emerged from bed and lazily went through my morning routine. I made my way down to the kitchen after getting dressed, finding Samir smack bang in the middle of all the workers. I chuckled when he flipped the waffle over in the pan skilfully, an intense look of concentration scrunching his features.
YOU ARE READING
An Echoing Race.Spiritual
The last two years of Sameena Ahmad's life have been interesting, to say the least. Why? Maybe it was because she was the Prime Minister's daughter. Or maybe it's because that's when the suitors started knocking on her door. One after another, Samee...