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Eight months later...

("Report from Ballers Street here in Toronto. There seem to be disarray as people in the neighborhood say they don't feel safe on the arrival of a Syrian Muslim family" A reporters voice beamed from the TV.

"We have been living in peace for as long as I can remember we don't want any trouble" one of the resident of the neighborhood said. She clutched to her toddler as though someone was after them"we just want to live in peace" she finished looking frightened.

"It's ok when we see them in supermarket but our neighborhood? Our homes? No, we can't tolerate that, we won't. These people are bad news I tell you" a man looking in his 40s spat."We have to fight for our homes, our kids"

The victimized family has been quiet after making this statement. "My children are Canadian by birth, my wife and I have lived in this country for twenty six years. I am a Syrian Muslim and a Canadian citizen who wants to live a normal life, like every Muslim, in peace. Any phobia you have against my race or religion, get in line. I'll see you in court."

Is this a racist act or islamaphobic act?...)

The beeping of the microwave pulled Ahmad's attention from the TV. He heaved irritated at what he was watching. He was back from work earlier than Zinar.

"Hi babe" Zinar pecked him before sitting opposite him. He had already kept plates on the table together with the left over lasagna he warmed.

"You look tired" he said watching her munch on her first bite with her eyes closed like it was the must decent meal she's had all day. She had lost a few noticeable pounds; her face was pale and relatively rough. She sighed and looked at him "I don't know what took me to medicine really". They had 60 working hours per week, she comes back home around 4:30 or 5 PM tired and worn out. Sometimes she wondered how she was still surviving it. Ahmad comes back around 5 or a few minutes past.

He chuckled "You find your way to what you love and what is meant for you"

"Yeah" she whined, "I just- sometimes like today" she slumped in her seat " I just wanna-"

"Never give up" he stated firmly. She scarcely looked at him as she played with the food in front of her. "Look at me" he cut her gaze, "not when you have gone this far, you're strong" he creased her hand with a smile decorating his face.

She smiled back lovingly at him before murmuring, "thank you". He always knew what to say and how to say it. She gobbled from the glass of water "how was your day?"

He shrugged "Same old, boring"

"No new clients?"

"Nothing big" he said as he pulled out his vibrating phone.


"Dude, where is your wife" Khalid's voice beamed through the phone.

"She's busy"

"Put it on speaker" she giggled. She knew it had to be Khalid or Amir from the way he spoke. " Khalid kayf?"

"It's not working" he sounded frustrated.

"What's not working" she asked confused, Ahmad had the same look.

"Just look" he turned the call into a video call and showed a steaming pot. "It's all melted" he fetched from the content and emptied it back to the pot.

"The whole thing?" she giggled. He was trying to make Danwake since Ahmad said he was tired of his wife cooking for him.

"I made plans" he turned of the video; he had cut veggies "it was supposed to be a great dinner" he sounded like a disappointed kid.

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