Hayat Amanullah was always the pampered child in her household. With loving, hardworking parents and two older brothers who were more like best friends, Hayat was never neglected of anything. She had no sense of responsibility, no worry in the world...
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Lily of the valley (flower): Return to happiness
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I slide open the door to the terrace and take a deep breath.
The place is in ruins. Wilted flowers, upended wicker chairs, cracked pots strewn all over the floor.
I'm holding the gardening book Steph gave me, turned to the first chapter. It's titled Lily Of The Valley: The Flower That Prevails.
It gets its name from being incredibly tough and able to survive in all kinds of weather. It grows best in partial shade and has a crisp, slightly jasmine scent. It symbolizes love, purity, and a return to happiness. And it's often used in wedding bouquets.
Ironically, it also contains heart-active substances and is poisonous if consumed.
I'm startled out of reading when a voice behind me says, "What are you doing?"
I turn to see Ihsaan standing awkwardly by the kitchen island. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and he's not meeting my eyes.
I turn away, last night's anger rising up my throat. "Nothing."
Silence. Then, "That doesn't look like nothing."
I snap the book shut and see him flinch in my periphery. "Do you need breakfast?"
He sighs. "Hayat, I can make my own breakfast."
"Okay," I shrug noncommittally, stepping forward onto the terrace.
Lily of the valley. Return to happiness.
My eyes rove over the chaos of what once used to be my greatest hobby.
"Are you thinking of starting again?" Ihsaan murmurs, walking over to stand next to me.
"Even if I was, it's not your concern," I say, stepping around him to head back inside.
"Hayat." He grabs my arm with one hand, using the other to tug at his hair. "Don't be like that."
I pull out of his grasp and fold my arms. "Don't be like what?"
He gestures between us, eyes trained to the floor. "Like . . . this. Cold. Distant. You and me . . . it's just us now."
"Oh, now you remember that it's just us?" My voice rises an octave, and his troubled gaze finally meets mine. My attempt at cool indifference fails; I scoff and shake my head angrily. "Where is this concern when you won't look twice at me? When you only talk to me to ask if I need anything? When you barely smile at me anymore, let alone initiate an actual conversation? When you lie straight to my face and expect me to be okay with it?"
Ihsaan's eyes are back on the floor, his toe nudging the edge of an upturned flowering pot. "That's not fair, Hayat," he says quietly.
"You know what else is not fair? Finding out two months later that my remaining brother takes anxiety medication. Having to extract major information out of him—such as his promotion—which he would otherwise never tell me himself. Knowing he's lying to me about some girl but not understanding why. That's not fair." My chest is rising and falling rapidly now, breaths coming quickly.
