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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
~ Orange tulips: A profound connection between two people ~
That night, I dream of Arafat.
We're in a field of orange tulips, the sun's rays glittering across the vibrant flowers. I'm laughing as I run after him, hands outstretched to touch his shoulder.
"I'm gonna get you!" I shriek in delight as I chase him.
"It's too late!" he shouts back as he continues to run.
All of a sudden, he vanishes into specks of white dust. I stop short, leaning down to catch my breath as I squint around the field. I whip my head this way and that, a cleft forming between my brows.
"Arafat?" I shout as I stand straight. "Arafat, where are you?"
The breeze blows through the quiet field, ruffling the orange tulips. The only other sound is my heavy breathing as I come to the realization that I'm utterly alone.
My knees crumple as I fall to the ground. A searing ache forms in my heart, and I clutch my chest to try to stave off the pain.
"Arafat!" I shout as dark gray clouds beginrolling across the sky, shading the bright sun. "Arafat, don't leave me!"
All of a sudden, the sky opens up and heavy rain falls, accompanied by cracks of thunder and sparks of lightning. I attempt to shield myself from the rain by holding my arms above my head, but my efforts are futile as rain pours mercilessly from the sky.
I wrap my arms around my shivering body, rainwater sliding down me and soaking my clothes. "Arafat," I mumble inaudibly against the chaos of rain and thunder.
Then a hand taps me on the shoulder. I muster the strength to turn around and look up just as someone opens an umbrella above my head.
It's Ihsaan.
He's grinning at me the way he used to—mischievous and positively radiant. As he holds the umbrella with one hand, he reaches for me with the other.
"Come on, Hayat," he says. "Ready to go?"
I jolt awake, inhaling sharply in the darkness of my room. My breaths come short and fast as I clutch a hand against my chest, tears trailing down my cheeks. I turn to my bedside table to look at the time.
2:33 AM.
I'm unable to sleep for the rest of the night.
. . .
My mom has started coming out of her room every day now.
She wakes up before Papa and Ihsaan leave for work, and we have all started eating breakfast together.
