Colossal damage. Vast amounts of pain and sorrow seeping into her emotions, digging deeper to trigger the unsealed wounds. The bruises appear to be permanent . "I won't ever be healed." She cries.
But are these bruises permanent?
Will she ever fin...
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"I take it you have figured out who I am!" She exclaimed whilst closing the front door behind me.
"I am just in utter shock Ms Haynah. I- i just can't begin to understand. I was doing research on your clothing line 4 days ago. Amal! Her surname is Haynah! How did I not manage to fix the pieces together...?" I rambled on, mostly out of shock and nervousness.
"It's okay don't beat yourself up about it, lovely!" Ms Haynah reassured me.
"Okay Ms Hay-"
"I am Alya to you. I am sure when you were doing your research you did not refer to me as Ms Haynah, so you shouldn't call me by that now. I smiled. "Sure... Aunt Alya?"
"I guess that could work too!" We both shared a laugh. "I want you to view me as none other than your neighbour now, Hope. Please do not feel obliged to be a certain way. Let yourself loose and be yourself."
I nodded my head in agreement and proceeded into the living room. The room display was just as glamorous as the hallway and front drive. Two navy blue crushed velvet couches sat in the corners of the room. Cream And blue scatter cushions neatly presented on the couches while a familiar mural hung on the first wall seen when entering the room. I then figured the mural was a design on one of Alyas clothing lines. As I walked further into the room, the faint waft of Arabian oud wood hit me.
"You seem to be speculating as if you're familiar with certain things around the room!" Alya grinned, referring to the mural.
If I was told a month ago that I was to become friends with Alya Haynahs daughter and be neighbours with Alya myself, I'd probably roll my eyes. The damn probability of this happening would most likely be rare. But here I am devouring the interior of Alya Haynahs house. It sure is a miracle.
"Ummee! Ajmal isn't sharing his toys." A little girl, carbon copy of Amal ran up to Alya, tugging on her headscarf, furrowing her eyebrows. Other than her curly hazel hair, she was basically Amal.
"But this is a sayarah! Cars are for boys not for you Marwah." Another boy wandered into the room to his mom, I take it he was Ajmal. He looked slightly different to his sisters having charcoal black thick hair and dark brown eyes and plump lips like his mom.
I was about to ask what a sayarah was until I realised that it was a car, given that he said so in his next sentence. The fact that these kids have slight knowledge of their culture and actually have culture and religion to refer to. They don't know how lucky they are, Amal included.
"Hey Ajmal! How many times do I need to tell you that girls can play with cars too..." A familiar voice echoed in the hallway. Amal. "Noor go and make the qahwa. Ummee told you ages ago." She said to her... other sister?
"Shutup Amal. Just because your newfound friend is here. I helped at the boutique whilst you sat here, at home probably on your ass." Noor screamed then we all heard a faint slam where I presume that was Noors bedroom door.
