A Hazel Haven

Chapter 8

The evening sun tinged the painted sky with a warm orange hue. And as it fell and faded behind the horizon, It casted long shadows behind the things of the world; soon, a blanket of darkness descended, studded with stars. A crescent moon shone through fluffs of drifting clouds.

Neither the stellar sight nor the bright lights of the neighbouring houses that reflected the starry sky seemed particularly captivating.

It was a sight she never failed to sit and relish after prayers and reading the Koran, but not tonight. Huma's thoughts were somewhere else.

She had eyes like his. Huma had been stupified by the epiphany and mesmerised at once--such a rarity. But they were lacklustre , cold, and rimmed with shadows beneath. Unlike his that kindled with the rays of the sun.

Is that why i'm attracted to you, Uche?

The girl had been affable despite the look of despair she had tried desperately to dissimulate with those cloying smiles, which never reached those irises. When someone gave a genuine smile, their eyes crinkled at the corners. Huma knew that.

Beautiful.

But something was off about her.

Her bed covers were tossed to a side. The image was etched in her memory like a wallpaper, and often, she would shut her eyes to conjure it vividly in the darkness, to give it colour, to fixate on the soft curves, hard planes the sun highlighted.

Light strokes and defining lines, the sound of the pencil scratching dryly and rubbing faintly on paper filled the room. Besides that, it was quiet-enough to hear the chirps and trills of crickets nearby.

Huma flicked her tongue testily over the swelling at the corner of her bottom lip. It was sore but it didn't hurt as much. A slight pain tugged at her cheek as she explored facial expressions, and she stopped.

A knock on her door brought Huma's head up. Her eyes were puffy and red.

"Huma," It was her father. Huma didn't respond but continued what she was doing. She sniffed.

"I know you're upset. But please, open the door. Let's talk."

A wisp of hair strayed to her face, tickling the tip of her nose and brushing sensitively against her lips. She blew at it while splaying her fingers over the paper to smoothen it on the wooden surface.

The door remained shut. "She didn't mean to. You know how your mother is when she's agitated. The things she said, I want you to know that she didn't mean any of it. You know that don't you? She's just really concerned."

It fluttered back, and Huma sighed as she clamped the pencil between her lips; with a flip, she gathered the glorious mane with her hands to deftly weave into two thick braids.

At her ankle, the little white board was split in two by a line that jagged across from one end to the other. The plastic that bordered its sides were cracked and broken off in places. It had held fond memories.

Another knock sounded. "It was an accident. That's all it was." Huma heard him sigh heavily. She erased a double line and blew on the paper, scattering the shavings. "I just want you to know that. Please, open up. At least let me see if you're alright."

Unfazed by his placating voice, Huma remained unyielding, singing in head while her work gradually came alive. She had been at it for days now and it was still far from completion.

"Huma?"

Few hours earlier......

By the time Huma arrived at the house with her father, her mind was resolute on what she needed to do next. Uche words echoed in her head like a lady who was singing into a well and the waters below rippled choruses. After a quick bath, some food, she thought to talk with her parents and hoped they would be receptive to the idea.