The Hijabi's Best Mistake

👑Chapter 72👑 Anger

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🌟Chapter dedication goes to! its_Ninna🌟

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I dragged my feet against the gravel, with my heels in my hand. I stared at my front door, debating on whether to open it, or im from my bedroom window.

I didn't know how to face my dad tonight.

I mean, it was scary to watch him get that angry. Never has my father gotten that angry with me.

NEVER.

I inserted the key and turned it to the right slightly. I looked behind me, the sun about to set for Maghrib. I even noticed Majeed’s car wasn't in the driveway.

I walked inside and noticed almost all the lights were off.  That's weird…

Around this time, my family always turned the lights on.

I walked further inside after I locked the door. I walked up the stairs slowly to hear my mother's voice in a hushed tone.

“Kareem, calm down!” My mother whisper-yelled. “She's a teenager, you can't expect her to be perfect, jaanem (my love).”

“She's my daughter for goodness sake, Maryam. I didn't know that boy would end up being such a burden,” my father said, flailing his arms.

A small light shone into the hallway from the creak of the door that was open from their bedroom. I just stared through the little slit.

“You blame Bryson?” She asked.

“I blame that harami for everything! He has ruined her, Mary!” He yelled this time.

“Hush for Allah's (god) sake, Masoud is sleeping” she said. “Listen to yourself, Kareem, you're judging your own daughter before asking her anything. Just yelling, as if it's gonna help the situation.” My mother scowled.

“I don't want you to be having this attitude when she arrives,” she sneered.

My mother could be a scary woman if she wanted to. And boba (dad) knew that. He hated when she would get angry, but as of now, it doesn't seem like he's trying to stop it. He’s fueling the fire.

“I can't just ignore this!” He whisper yelled.

“I'm not saying that! Just talk to her-”

At this moment, my stupid clumsy self fell over as I was eavesdropping, of course. My cheek hit the door as I tried to stable my leg. But it was too late. The door creaked and opened slightly.

My mother opened the door, as staring at me with sad eyes.

“Salam, momma,” I smiled weakly.

She sighed and grabbed me into a hug. “Have you been crying?” She whispered into my ear.

I shook my head ‘no’, and engulfed her into my arms.

“Salam, boba (dad).” I said shyly.

I couldn't even meet his eyes as I stared down at the Persian carpets.

“Walekum aslam,” he mumbled.

“I'm sorry for all the commotion I caused today.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “It won't happen again. Goodnight,” I said, turning around, ready to leave.