The Shades of Spring

Brushing Embers

6 months later

In 1963 American meteorologist Edward Lorenzo proposed The Butterfly Effect theory. Quoted in relation to, or when explaining The Chaos Theory, TBE theory suggested that a butterfly flapping its wings in Chicago can cause a storm in Tokyo. In other words, small actions can have huge consequences.

Somewhere in Sidra's life, a butterfly flapped its wings, unleashed a storm which eventually abated and left her to pick through the rubble and build something new.
Four months ago Ayaan was acquitted of charges involving damage to private property and attempt to murder John Mehcad in alleged retaliation to a disagreement in their Academy. It was now four months since John Mehcad was imprisoned in Orham Jail.

A lot had happened in the time.
Peter Heckler was fired by the Myrethorne management on account of two consecutive mishaps during his tenure as head librarian. Hafsa married Musa in a private Nikah ceremony attended only by close family and select friends. Ayaan graduated valedictorian of Brentwood last week with Kevin's graduation scheduled twenty days from present.

And Sidra? Well, she was hoping to obtain her degree by the end of the coming year. Her wounds from the fight had fully healed, giving her a thin scar along her chin, one above the eyebrow and another one below her ear. She was still on indefinite, fully paid leave by the library. In contrast to her previous plan, she had no second job as of present and depended heavily on her parents for her tuition fees. Running high on emotion and paranoia, she had declared she was dropping the degree all together and had to be persuaded for weeks on end before she accepted any help. Now, life was pretty good.

Pink clouds floated above her, bringing with them a gentle breeze that roused golden autumn leaves into a small dance on the running track. Sidra looked to her mother who sat on a bench, watching Sidra and Hamza jog along. This was still part of Sidra's physical therapy for her legs, but because the therapist was a man, Hamza kept his sister company.

"That's enough for the day," Ilyas clapped his hands jogging on the spot. Sidra complied a little out of breath. Hamza was still high on adrenaline, so he continued to run in circles around his sister and her therapist.
"Alhamdulillah, good improvement. You can drop this soon, In Sha Allah," the middle aged man assured her.

"In Sha Allah," she agreed with him and walked back to her mother. At the benches, she met Sara who sat with Amanah.

"Surprise," the older of the girls pulled the other one into a hug. They were pretty tight after the incident.
"You didn't tell me you were coming," Sidra complained.
"It won't be a surprise then."
"Point noted, Captain Obvious."
"Thank you, Lieutenant Slow Wits."

"How's your leg now?" Amanah asked when Sidra sat between Sara and her, to which the girl gave her double thumbs up
"Doc says I can stop soon. In Sha Allah."
"Alhamdulillah. So you won't be moping at home for too long?"
"Mama darling, a stallion's place is always the wild."

Sara smacked her lightly on the side of her head, "Yep. Mums, why not just kick her out of the house? Huh? She wants the wild."

"Who gave you the right missy?" Sidra turned to her mother, "Tell her how dark the house is on a bright summer noon if I'm not around."

"Yeah, Sara. So dark because no one else leaves the lights on. Accidentally. All the time."
Sara threw back her head and laughed at Sidra who fake pouted at her mother.

Hamza brought Ayaan to them with a wide grin.
Ayaan's hair had grown back fast but the beard was shorter than he used to keep it before. Where the temporary spectacles rested, the bridge of his nose was crooked. But to her last breath Sidra would never forget his sheared hair and the clean shaven jawline on the day she saw him in the hospital after her nightmare. A long scar traced his forehead if you looked hard enough and another one peeped on top of his beard. Now, every time she saw him or remembered that day, she always thanked Allah for pulling the three of them through it alive.
Hafsa still jumped if anyone spoke right behind her or trembled slightly when entering new rooms. The trauma still lived with the victims, but they chose to live better than their trauma.