Inevitable Flaw

Chapter 1: Encounter

"Ramadan Mubarak."

He must acknowledge the tray because I feel it gently being robbed from me.

"And to you too," he responds in a low tone. His voice sounds foreign from how I last remembered it. Yet, the same sweetness spills onto concrete floors. And I realize that that's the only thing familiar about it.

"Thank you," I muster, although my voice abruptly becomes inaudible.

He nods sincerely.

And just like that, I am left to look down at my worn out Toms.

When the deafening silence consumes us, I make the decision to turn around and start my walk back home. Without any form of farewell, I hear the door behind me slam shut.

That was interesting.

The breeze continues practicing its sadistic pirouettes around my body. It's routine nips at my exposed face and bare hands. I pull my sweater sleeves over my icy appendages and scold myself for not wearing a jacket.

While taking the last few steps towards home, I feel a trickle of water droplets on the tip of my nose. In no time, the clouds start pouring their tears. I turn my walk into a sprint leading to my front porch.

The canopy above provides me refuge from the wet as I wait for the door. I inhale the fresh smell of rain and watch perfect spheres of rain droplets form on individual pieces of grass. The evident platter of rain follows a form of rhythm that relaxes my still fast paced heart. I stand there for a couple more seconds, completely in awe with the setting before me.

"Hurry inside," I hear my mom rush behind me, her arms crossed over her chest.

I make my way through the door and quickly become engulfed in the blessing warmth. The house smells of freshly made rice and bread.

"Were Adam's parents home?" Mama inquires as I rub my hands over the heater.

"Adam took the tray from me so I assume they weren't there."

"JazakAllah Khair for taking it."

"Of course," I smile.

"Of course," my brother mocks with a questionable facial expression.

"I really hope it doesn't start hailing," my dad comments while making his way down the stairs, his focus on inserting his suit cuff's button to its corresponding hole.

For the rest of the day, we read the Qur'an and pray until Iftar. When it starts pouring hail, we collectively laugh at my father's sigh of disappointment towards the prospect of ice damaging our windows.

When the sun sets, we break our fast with a date and follow it through with a variety of colourful foods.

At around eleven O' clock, we prepare to leave for Taraweeh prayer. I wear my black abaya with the diamond covered sleeves and matching hijab. Mama wears an almost identical one to my own.

Once everyone is ready, we leave together.

The masjid is a warm brown tone with fragile carvings. Its four massive pillars overpower the base and lighting all around. It smells of childhood Sunday classes.

Mama and I follow the lit up pathway towards the ladies prayer section, leaving my father and Aasif towards the other.

I am instantly welcomed into a familiar heated room that expands a great fifty or so meters in width. The presence of multiple different women and children brings forth a sense of unity. My mother is greeted by multiple figures. She leaves with them and becomes completely engulfed in their love and laughter.

Upon taking my seat along one of the corners of the room, I am pushed face first into the soft carpet.

"Aamirah!" they both scream and I instantly recall who is suffocating me. After a couple seconds of struggle, they let me go.

We all end up bursting with exaggerated laughter.

"I can't wait for school tomorrow!" Sophia whispers, overly excited.

"Senior year, whoop whoop!" Nura chips in, throwing her fist up into the air with Sophia joining shortly after.

"So excited!" I broadcast my most believable smile to cover for the extent of apathy I had for this coming year.

We all make small conversation until the sound of the Azhaan circles.

After finishing, I wave my farewells and exit the mosque behind mama. The smell of concrete still mourns the death of rain, as do the perturb chills of the wind.

My eyes wander from the road towards a figure watching me, the slight bit of paranoia I had felt making sense now.

His glinted eyes pierce though mine with pure entertainment; my self consciousness reflects in them. I endure the violence of gravity's hold around my feet as I observe his white thawb and presentable hair.

Eventually, I spring forward when my father and Aasif come in sight.

The last thing I see before getting into the car is Adam disappearing behind the ridiculous amount of vehicles, without so much as another glance back.