Bookworms | ✔

forty-six

Especially Dina. He decided to withhold that part of the story.

Everyone at the table intensely listened to his words, chasing after every syllable with their unwavering attention. Haroon and Humaid exchanged smiles with one another, feeling accomplished at playing their role in Nicholas's conversion story.

For the first time, he felt as though he crafted his story, held the pen to the pages of his novel, of his life.

"And your parents?" prompted their father, resting his arms on the table as he eagerly listened. "How did they take the news?"

A knife of dread twisted in his abdomen, churning painfully at the thought of his parents. Most children felt armored in their parents' love, but Nicholas only experienced tormented memories from his parents. Their misleading words lead to an acute injury deep inside, where Nicholas pleaded for a release from the prison they created and the materialistic grasp that they had.

"They didn't... take it... so well," he trailed off, picking at his food with the fork. Not even the spicy, pepper-filled aroma of his curry could heal the burns of his past away.

"I see," said Dina's father, his Bengali accent slipping through the tense words. "That is very unfortunate."

Dina's mother had perked up, her motherly nature reaching towards him with the genuine sadness that ripped through her lips. "Oh, you poor thing," she consoled, hazel eyes reflecting her sympathy, even through her veil, Nicholas sensed her frown. "It is not always easy to convert. There are a lot of obstacles that face us."

Tears brimmed his eyes, but he blinked them away. Why does it hurt so much? I hate them, yet I can't stop yearning for their approval, their affection, their love.

A hand clamped on his shoulders, jerking Nicholas back to reality. "It's going to be alright, man," Humaid tightly smiled. "One day, they'll come around."

Instead of responding to his friend, Nicholas moved his gaze to their father, a man of few words but favored by a thousand years of wisdom. He no longer scrutinized Nicholas. The next words that flew from Nicholas's mouth were far from his control, his body acting quicker than his brain.

"What can I do?" he asked with a slight plea in his voice. "I never had a good relationship with them, but I... I want to try."

"Talk to them."

"What?"

"Talk to your parents, Nicholas," stated their father. "A parent's love is timeless. It may be hard at first for them, but they will come around."

"And if they don't?" inquired Nicholas.

This time, Haroon cut off their father. "Then you have us as your family, Nick. You have the Muslim community, you have Professor Jerikson, you have Elijah, and you have Allah. Family doesn't always have to be determined by blood."

"Yeah," agreed Humaid. "Sometimes your family are those who care about you and will always have your back."

Nicholas was dumbstruck. He glanced at their parents for their reactions, and was bewildered to find their amicable nod, silently agreeing with their sons.

As the evening went on, the mood had shifted to humorous and carefree with the Younes siblings teasing one another. Chuckles and laughter flew through their lips, the sound becoming a second nature to their family and to Nicholas as he found himself smiling the whole time, much to Dina's surprise.

Every now and then, he would steal a glance at her when the family distracted themselves in conversation.

Her beauty enchanted him from the tinted red lips to her exotic eyes that beckoned him with their inexplicable fondness. Paralyzed as he was, nothing could tear the secret bond they shared, not even the strongest armies or the most terrifying generals of their world. Just as a parent's love for their child was timeless, so was Nicholas and Dina's love for one another.

Feeling his heated gaze, Dina's glowing skin burned with her shyness, her haya. A rosy pink painted the apples of her cheeks, teeth biting down on her bottom lip, begging him to follow their lead with his own. He tore his gaze away when a familiar stirring awakened.

When everyone prepared to exit, he slipped his gift to her, subtle and quiet. The small, aquatic plush fell onto her lap, its silver fins glowing in the dimmed lights, as Nicholas followed her brothers. No one noticed. No one spared a glance.

He smiled in relief.

As he opened the door, he heard her hushed gasp.

"Nemo," she had whispered.

That name would never fail to amuse him, nor would his gift to his love.

----

Mr. Zemel bragged about me to other teachers. *Dies internally* I feel so appreciated.

Maybe one day, I'll tell him about Professor Jerikson XD Maybe being the key word here.

Still a bit disappointed that we didn't make the Wattys. Oh well.

Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed. I got a long week of editing and newspaper writing ahead >.< Don't forget to vote, comment, and follow!