DALIA

Dalia’s POV

I park my car in the parking lot next to the school’s massive building. I have applied months ago and I finally got a response that I should come in for an interview. Took them long enough to notice my abilities as a teacher. I always knew that I never wanted to get into a job because of someone. I wanted to get in with my awesomeness.

I step out of the car after I allowed the engine to die in silence. I sit there for a few seconds letting the silence engulf me in a sudden embrace. I exhaled softly and got out of my car. I turn around to look at the window, allowing my reflection to guide me making sure my headscarf is in position.

I begin to walk towards the building and get lost in my thoughts. I graduated from Queens University with a Bachelor degree in Education. I felt proud to be able to fulfill my dream of teaching. I also have a certificate in Islamic studies plus a few courses in English Literature. I smile to myself as I walk.

I walk into the building and I meet the receptionist, a small petite figure wearing a pink headscarf and black-framed glasses.

“Salam sister. How can I help you?” She says as she notices me entering the building.

“Hey, wa’alikum al-salam. I’m here for the job interview.” I smile.

Smiling is sunnah as said by our beloved Prophet peace and blessings be upon him.

“Yes wait here, I will go check if he is inside.”

She walks away and I get out my phone to check my Instagram. What better way to waste time than use Instagram? But I make sure to keep the brightness of my phone low, don’t want unwanted content in front of people. Especially school.

Within a minute she was back. I look at her name tag and take in her name

Huda.

Good to know. I shall keep that in mind, if that is I get the chance to work here.

“Mr. Amir is absent today, he is our school counselor. He was supposed to do the interview with you, but Mr. Waleed said he would take charge of the interview in his place.” She gives me a soft smile as she gestures with her hand to follow her. I nod my head and let her have the lead to the office.

‘Waleed Valastro’

The sign in front of the door said.

The name slightly brought butterflies to my stomach. To me I had a thing for a few male names in our Arab culture. And Waleed was one of them.

“Good luck.” She whisper then smiles. I smile back and knock on the door.

“Come in.” Said a deep voice from behind the door.

I open the door slowly and see a figure looking out the window standing up. I catch glimpse of the man, tall and broad, dirty blond hair and a chiseled jawline.

He must be God’s favourite.

I gulp. But reminded myself to lower my gaze.

The room had this intoxicating smell, the sexy kind, but it was screaming toxic.

“Hi.” I said. My voice coming out too soft for my own good.

I silently clear my throat.

As my voice came out he turns around and stares into my eyes for a few seconds then he got his composure back. I equally stared back those few seconds. It felt like a small choke. Those eyes were something. Emerald in colour.

“Hi to you too. Please have a seat.” I take a seat in front of his desk and look at the name on the desk.

In small black writing under his name, it said principal.

He was the principal.

Shit, I highly doubt I will be taking this job now. Principals are tough to get under their skin.

There was a not so much of a comforting silence as he flicks through some papers, it was giving me anxiety instead.

“So, what’s your name?” His voice made my insides tingle. It was deep and husky. I took a deep breath to ignore the tingles. I haven’t felt those tingles in a few years.

“Dalia Ahmed.” Giving him only the answer he needs to his question.

“Hmm...graduate of Queens...education... twenty-four years old.” He was muttering information under his breath while flipping more pages.

I look around the room scanning it, it was very neat. But with the corner of my eyes, I saw him eyeing me.

“Do you have experience?” I blink for a few seconds, my doe eyes involuntarily growing bigger.

Oh, he means teaching experience.

Get a grip, Dalia.

“Yes, I do. I interned as a teacher assistant, after graduating high school. Took a gap year to make sure it doesn’t clash with anything else.” I reply calmly but felt the tiny bit of shakiness in my voice.

“What languages do you speak? Sorry, but whoever made your CV is a total jerk, there isn’t the information that I want.” He emphasized on the CV maker is a jerk. How do I tell him I am the one who made it? I could swear all the information needed is there, anyways.

What information does he want? That if I am a virgin?

“I speak Arabic, English and slightly understand Spanish. Currently learning a bit of Italiano and Afrikaans.” I tell him feeling very proud of myself, but also giving this man a look of somewhat pride.

“Good, because we are short on Arabic teachers.” He says in a strict tone.

Jeez, what got in his pants? Or what didn’t?

I nod and cross my legs on top of each other.

“Are you familiar with working with children and young adults?” Mr. Waleed looks me directly in the eye.

I lower my gaze. It wasn’t just religion here, he was intimidating. I look away for a few seconds and look back into his.

“Yes.”

“Do you have children? Only asking to make sure that I could allow breaks for you to go home to feed them if they are young.” He asks and I fidget with the empty space on my ring finger.

“Nope. No children.” I reply. There was a bit of sadness in my voice if I had to admit to anybody.

He releases a breath. As if he was holding one.

“I think you are fit for the job.” He stands up as he straightens his suit jacket.

He walks in front of me and stands with his arms crossed in front of his chest. I look up at him, suddenly feeling weird. Giving my unholy thoughts. But also a weird feeling down the pit of my stomach.

“Confident with public speaking?” He asks in a low voice.

Trying to intimidate me I see.

I look him straight in the eyes, and before answering, I’m absorbed into them once again, emerald green eyes. My breath hitched and I exhaled it quickly.

Why is it always the men with the emerald eyes?

“Beyond confident, Sir.” My voice comes out like I’m daring him. I was surprised myself, as he raised his eyebrows after I spoke.

“Great, time for the tour.” Waleed walks towards the door and opens it for me.

“So this means I’m hired?” I ask as I stood up, putting my purse strap on my shoulder.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t you be?” I don’t answer his question and walk out the door.

As soon as we step out, Huda, the receptionist, stands from her seat. Her voice a little shaky.

“Would you like me to give her a tour Sir? Or walk her out?”

Was he scary? I mean he is slightly intimidating but not scary or frightening. But no way am I falling for that. Never in a million fucking years.

“No, relax Ms. Huda. I will give her the tour.” I hear her mutter something under her breath that isn’t even comprehensive.

We start walking through the building.

“This is the cafeteria to your left. That’s the auditorium straight ahead and to your right that’s the teachers staff room.” He says as we walk together.

We walk next to each other but keeping a halal distance. I nod and hum whenever he shows me something.

Then we stand in front of a big window that shows the field where the students go out for break time.

“You are quite few for words.” He says as if he is in deep thoughts.

“Don’t take it personal. I limit my talk to the other gender.” I tell him as I stare outside at the green grass. Remembering the green emeralds I looked at earlier. I don’t want to be drawn into them once more.

He wants to say something else but he shuts up, his mouth opening and closing like a guppy. I feel him gazing at me but I ignore it. Waleed was looking at me, that was nothing new.

“Let me show you to your classroom.” He says after two minutes of weird and comfortable silence.

“My classroom?” I ask surprised.

“Yes, your classroom Ms. Dalia.” Waleed turns around and looks down at me. Our height difference evident.

With a side cock of his head, nudging for us to walk, we move together in sync.

We walk towards the end of the hall and he opens a door.

Desks with chairs, a teacher’s desk, some school closets here and there and empty walls.

Seeing the empty walls stirs a certain type of happiness inside of me. Making a smile appear on my face.

“Can I paint on the walls?” I speak my thoughts and turn my head towards him. Looking up at Waleed and giving him some doe eyes. I did that on purpose. Yes.

Our gazes linger and he seems to think for a moment.

“Well, if anything worthy. Why not? Go for it, Ms. Dalia.” A small smile appeared on his lips and I couldn’t help but look at it and then look away.

“Oh my god really? Thank you.” I walk inside and place my purse on the desk. I briefly look around and a smile of my own appears.

The classroom was huge and I couldn’t wait to fulfill something I have been wanting to do for a long time.

Teach.

“All or any supplies you need are in the teacher staff room.” He tells me and I could swear that I saw another small smile on his plumped lips.

Dalia, focus and get your head out of the gutter.

“What time does the school day end usually?” I ask him, wanting to change the topic.

“At three. You don’t need to stay today if you don’t want to.” He says placing his hands in his pockets. His black suit was just so perfect on him.

Gaze. Your damn gaze take it elsewhere, Dalia.

“No, I want to stay to turn my classroom into the perfect atmosphere for the students. The atmosphere is important Sir.” I might have meant it in more than one way.

“Just call me Mr.Waleed. No need for sir.” I see his eyes stern and I look away once more.

“Okay, thank you Mr.Waleed.” His name slips and I purse my lips together. It sounded to good to say and I don’t like that.

He clears his throat.

“I will be in my office forming your timetable, if you need anything you can drop by and ask me anything.”

“Alright, thank you.” I respond and when I notice he begins to turn around I start to move some desks that are close to the big empty wall.

I don’t even notice whether he left or not. I’m drawn into my thoughts on what to paint on my classroom wall.

As I turn around to move another desk, I see him taking off his suit jacket and placing it on the chair next to my future desk, I notice him beginning to roll his shirt sleeves and starts moving desks with me.

“You don’t need to help, it’s fine.” I try to assure him. I just don’t want him to be in my presence.

I felt slightly flustered on the inside. But I can’t let a single soul know. Not even give him a hint. I have learned over the years to hide everything, I was and am a bottled-up person, not trusting anyone. Not even my family.

“No, I want to help. Besides, I will get to know my new teacher better.” He says as he moves a desk to the other side of the room, his biceps bulging against the fabric of his shirt.

“Trust me, there isn’t anything you want to know about me.” I bluntly say while moving a chair.

“You seem the religious type. Aren’t you?” Waleed asks, tilting his head slightly.

“I am, yes.”

“It isn’t a bad thing I was just asking.”

I shrug my shoulders. As a habit that has also developed through high school to this day.

“Mr. Waleed if you’re trying to make small talk, it’s useless okay.” I tell him slowly making sure my words don’t come out harsh.

“I know what I’m doing.” He says as he rolls his sleeves downwards. I take a glance at his skin. He was quite tan. God help me.

“Thank you again for your help.” I say with a smile.

“Also keep in mind we have a meeting in about an hour. When the school day ends.”

He smiles back and takes his jacket and leaves.

I realise that I nod only after he left.

This is going to be a hard year.

Waleed’s POV

No one. Not a single freaking soul has ever said that to me.

I make small talk to see which females are the kind that are here for the socialization.

Clearly, she was only here to work, which is a good thing. I can’t handle women who just want to blabber on and on about nonsense.

When I was giving her the tour, I kept taking glances of her, and not once did she look at me. At least from my point of view, she probably was stealing glances of me as well.

I have been delaying her interview for months, knowing quite well females only come here to gawk at me. But she didn’t. The way her eyes grew at the mere thought of painting that wall in her classroom, I just couldn’t say no to her. She is literally here for that one reason, which is her job. I can admire that.

I asked her if she had kids and she said no. I assumed at first she didn’t have babies at all, I was glad to hear that so I didn’t have to make a timetable filled with breaks. But then while we walked I couldn’t help but look at her hand, her hand was small and looked so delicate, probably soft even, but there lay no ring on her finger.

How on earth could she not be married? She was just so beautiful. Yet again, women can be deceiving. But she wasn’t like the other people I have interviewed. There was something about her.

“Mr. Waleed!” Someone yells as I was sitting on my chair. I turn around to face the person and it was Huda, the receptionist.

“What?” I frown.

“You were in a complete day dream, I have been calling you for the past two minutes.” Huda says with a bit of irritation.

“Sorry. What’s wrong?” I ask as I clear my throat.

“It’s Jad’s family here to talk to you about, well, Jad. Remember the child with speech delay and just struggles with communicating?”

“Yes, yes. Bring them in.” I gesture for her to call them in.

I run my hand across my face as my mind wasn’t in its right place. It was going back to the lady who stepped into my office wearing a modest red sports dress, matching it with a white headscarf, she had big brown doe eyes, rosy pink lips and white skin that was flushed.

Two parents walked into my office. Cutting me off from my vision of the beautiful lady I had in mind.

“Salam.” The father said.

“Salam.” I responded back, mimicking his tone.

The mother follows behind the man and I gesture for them to sit down on the seats in front of the desk.

“How can I help you today?” I rest my elbows on my desk and intertwine my fingers together as I look between the two parents who have been seated.

“If I want to get straight to the point. We want to transfer Jad to another classroom. With a teacher that is more understanding of his case. One that maybe does know some sign language? My son is partially deaf if you remember. As a father, I want what is best for my son. I already thank you for allowing him into this campus.” Jad’s dad says to me.

“You want a teacher that knows some sign language? I am not sure if there are any teachers here that know how to sign.” I tell him and begin to think.

“Not one person at all? There must be someone who can. Please Mr. Waleed. This is the only campus that has accepted my son for the disability he has.” The mother says softly.

I sigh, feeling upset to what these parents have to go through.

“We have a new teacher, she just arrived today. I am not aware if she knows any sign language. But I can go and ask her right now.” I suggest, hoping that this Ms. Dalia, does know.

“What if she doesn’t know?” Jad’s mother asks softly.

“Then I will take it upon myself to hire someone that does know. My school is for diverse learners. I want to accommodate all my students.” I smile and write down some notes to keep in mind.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Waleed. You have no idea how much that means to us.” Jad’s father says as he puts his fingers through his hair.

“You’re welcome. I do not take funds for this school to just build a playground. I take them to hire new teachers to suit everyone.” I tell him with confidence.

They bid farewell and leave my office. I lay back in my chair and sigh. The things parents are willing to do to help their children. I can’t imagine myself a father. I would probably do a terrible job. It isn’t even that. I cann’t even find a proper woman. But I gave up on that years ago. No woman interests me or shall interest me. I much rather keep working in school and grow a generation of learners than have a wife and a child.

I look down at the note I made and my mind goes to Dalia. Could it be possible she does know how to sign and help me with this?

I get out of my chair while ruffling my hair and decide to go see how she is doing. Tell her about the case we have.

As I approach her door to open it I heard her sing. I lean my ear against the door. I could hear her singing the song for Rockabye by Anne Marie. She sounded lovely that I stood there for a few more seconds to just listen to her angelic voice.

What is wrong with me? I must look like a freak.

I knock on the door and I hear her go silent.

“Come in.” She says and I open the door.

I begin to speak but then I look at the wall.

“Wow.” Is all that comes out.

I was in awe.

“You like it?” She asks.

“I love it.”

She had some calligraphy written in Arabic and in English. I couldn’t exactly make out what was written but I saw the beauty of it.

“Thank you, Mr. Waleed.” Dalia smiles and sits on one of the desks in the classroom.

I nod my head and mirror her smile.

“How can I help you? I mean if there is something. Clearly, you are here to tell me something.” She says while wiping her hands with one of the wet wipes she got from her purse nearby.

“Oh yes, we have a child in our school, he is in year four with speech delay and difficulty communicating. Also, he does more sign than just speech due to some hearing problem. Do you know how to sign? I just had a meeting with the parents and they asked me if there were any teachers who can sign. I was wondering if you knew?” I ask her worried that she couldn’t. I really wanted her to know how to for some reason.

I see a smile form on her face her eyes sparkle.

“Yes, I can.”

“You can?” I was hearing right?

“Yes, I can.” She chuckles.”

“Why didn’t you have that on your CV?” I ask her with a frown.

“I didn’t think of it...” A guilty expression clouds her face.

“It’s alright. I now know, I still have your time table to form. Will you be able to have after school sessions with him? He needs to practice and needs some guidance.”

“I’m pretty sure I can. My children that I will be teaching are my number one priority.”

“My children at this school are my priority too.” Our eyes lock and I just feel the intensity of it that it makes me look away from here.

“I’m also here to tell you that we have a meeting in fifteen minutes. Be in the staff room.” I walk out not hearing what else she could say. I couldn’t be in the same room alone with this woman.

I walk to the staff room and find some teachers sat there. I was a cool type of principal, I did observations, I did duties out in the field and building. I was quite chill but liked things in order.

I took my observations seriously, plus I didn’t have much female teachers in school, I would fire most of them as they would all start doing the weirdest things to get my number or even to speak to me. More male teachers were present. Dalia is now an addition to the very few women here.

The staff room was across the hall from Dalia’s class, I saw her walking in the classroom as I left the door open when I left. She looked so modest and humble. She looked like a person who would never pray evil on a person. However I noticed while I looked into her eyes earlier, she says she is confident, but I feel like she was broken before, trying to build herself up.

I need to stop focusing on her. I just met her anyways.

“You seem distracted.” Jamila, my childhood friend, says next to me as I allow myself to make a cup of coffee.

“I’m not Jamie.” I shake my head.

“I have never seen you thinking so deeply. You sure everything is alright? I’m here you know.” She says next to me.

Jamila and I knew each other since birth, our parents tried to get us married but I refused. I just don’t like the idea of love or marriage, I find it pointless. When Jamie’s parents wanted her married I made it clear that I’m not marrying her. They were slightly disappointed, but I told them I can’t love her the way they want me to. It won’t be fair for her. Plus, she was like a sister to me.

“I’m telling you, you aren’t yourself.” She establishes that again, putting a hand on her growing stomach. In my mind, I am thankful Jamie found a man to give her a baby, I wouldn’t have been able to do that for her.

“Nothing. I’m just thinking of how to introduce our new teacher.” I shrug, sort of lying. I am lying.

“New teacher? That’s why you’re distracted. Blondie? Brunette? Hourglass? Which is it?” She wiggles her eyebrows and bombards me with who the new teacher is and what she looks like.

“Shut it, no. I actually don’t know. You know very well I’m not the love or emotion kind of guy.” I tell her and take a sip of coffee.

“Suit yourself.” She shrugs and walks away to the couch.

Continuing to take sips of my coffee, I think about what Jamie just said. Could she be a brunette or a blondie? That would be interesting to see and know.

I click my tongue and place my cup on the table and make my way to Dalia’s classroom.

Dalia’s Classroom.

She made an impression, that confidence. The way she seems to be sure about everything.

The meeting was about to start soon and I wanted her to meet Jamie.

“Can I come in?” I give the door a little knock and ask, since the door was already open.

“If for a reason, then yes.” Dalia says while her back was to me as she is having trouble sticking something on the wall.

“Oh, for crying out loud.” She mutters.

Dalia is trying to stick a poster but her arm’s length isn’t helping out. I chuckle. I recall earlier as I had to crane my head downwards to look at her. She possibly couldn’t be taller than five feet.

“Let me help you.” Is the first thing that comes out of my mouth.

What on earth? I am a man who enjoys NOT helping women.

I slip off my suit jacket once more and I get a chair to stand next to her. She is holding the poster with both her hands from one end and I stand on the chair, holding the other end.

I take a glimpse of her hands and then at her.

She was so focused on getting it stuck on the wall, adding extra tack on the sides as I hold it for her.

I smile to myself.

Now I’m starting to wonder if I had enough coffee today. She is a female. I don’t like them. They are annoying. Especially the ones I have met and worked with.

“Okay, done. Thanks, Mr. Waleed.” Her voice brings me down from my thoughts as she thanks me. Dalia tries to get down from the chair without slipping. I offer my hand to her and she was about to hold it. Then she pulls it away and chuckles.

“You know that I can’t touch you.” And she jumps down from the chair without falling.

“Sorry, Ms. Dalia. It was just human instincts.” I get down myself and shove my hands in my pockets.

“I know and it’s fine. No need to apologise.” She smiles at me and hands me my jacket. Her cheeks were tinted in pink, a blush that has managed to creep in and I know it’s because of what happened.

I do also make a mental note to remind myself that I can’t touch a woman who isn’t my wife, mother, sister, aunt and grandmamma. Those are the only women I can touch. At least I am religious in that aspect right?

“By the way, is there a certain dress code I need to follow?” Once more, her soft voice brings me back from thinking land and asks what she is supposed to wear.

Naked is an option.

What the hell am I really thinking? I clear my throat at the thought and I am just tempted to check her out more carefully.

“No Ms. Dalia, just as long as it’s not bright colors like yellow or light pink. I hate those.” I respond to her while shaking my head.

She nods, chuckling a little.

“I hate those colours too.”

“Alright I think you can wrap up work for today, we have a meeting.” I had to be away from her alone for now. Probably I am just over thinking everything today. Maybe I didn’t have my breakfast coffee.

Did I even have breakfast today?

“Oh yes, I completely forgot.” She facepalms herself.

That’s when I notice she doesn’t have makeup on, this was her pure natural face, for a second just one second my mouth slightly parts and I exhale. Because not a single smudge was on her face. She had a beautiful face.

“This way.” I clear my throat which was like the millionth time today.

God help me and not have any unholy thoughts.

I make my way out the door and she follows behind me, getting her phone out to type something away. Her fingers worked quickly on that keyboard. Fuck me.

“Good afternoon everyone.” I say to get everyone’s attention and she puts her phone in her pocket.

“Thank you all for making it here on short notice. I want to introduce our new teacher, Ms.Dalia Ahmed.” She waves her hand up and smiles at everyone.

“Ms.Dalia please tell us about yourself.” I decide to say since she refuses to talk to me maybe, she would tell the audience about herself.

“Well, as Mr. Waleed has introduced me, I am Dalia Ahmed, twenty-four years old, studied at Queen’s University. Have a degree in education and a certificate in Islamic Studies and English Literature.”

She spoke softly but loud and clear.

“Would you tell us your interests please?” I push further, I already knew what freaking degree she had.

“Interests? I would also consider them hobbies or yeah maybe interests. I like to paint, draw, do calligraphy, read, write novels, knit, bake and possibly you could say anything else a girl would probably do. I also run a private business DaliaPrints.”

Business? This small lady in front of me has a business?

Nothing against a lady owning a business. But she just looked so small to me. Like, looking at her, you would probably think she is actually a teenager. Her looks were of pure youth.

Jamie then spoke up.

“What’s your business about?”

Dalia sits on the coffee table, I’m not bothered to tell her to get off. She can sit on my face if she wants as well. This woman can walk on my head if she wanted to.

Waleed, what on earth are you thinking? I am simping only a few hours of meeting her. Probably just my old-self thoughts.

“Oh, I take orders for people who want like birthday cards, business cards or even a drawing. I do it digitally and by hand. I do prefer the traditional way though. Brings meaning and live into it.” She says so confidently.

“That is actually cool. You know maybe you can make the banners for the school. We have fairs that Mr. Waleed organizes.” Jamie replies to Dalia.

Dalia smiles.

Can I see that smile when I wake up?

Fuck Waleed!

“When the time comes, Inshallah.” She gives her a little wink.

I look across the room to see the peoples expression. Everyones eyes were on her. Specifically Bilal, our biology teacher.

I will carve his eyes out myself if he thinks he will get near her.

“Anything you would like to share? I do have to tell you, do consider this place like your second family. We are all one here.” I tell her to distract myself from imagining beating up a certain person. I also want her to open up more.

“Well maybe the one more thing I would add, just so you would know what language to speak to me, is I know Arabic and English. I do have a slight background in Spanish as I took interest in it years ago, and I am learning Italiano. I know how to sign, it is also a learning in process. I’m quite familiar with Arab culture, all of my youth I grew up in the Arab world. So do excuse me if I don’t do something like you guys.” She waves her hand gesturing at us.

She was so confident when she spoke. Like she owned the place. She was a strong woman on the outside. But there was more to her on the inside.

And I think I want to be the one to find out.

“Thank you for joining our school.” I tell her. Genuinely smiling at her. She smiles back but her eyes quickly leave mine.

Dalia’s POV

It was nice to be welcomed.

After Mr. Waleed thanking me, he approached me.

“I want you to meet my old friend, Jamila.” He says gesturing next to him.

“Salam.” I extend my hand to shake hers.

“Salam, you can call me Jamie.” She smiles.

“I will leave you two girls. I need to go back to my office. Have a lovely evening Dalia.” He addressed me without Ms. Which left Jamie to allow a small gasp to escape her lips. I couldn’t care less.

He walks out not waiting for either of us to respond.

“So you’re new here in Canada?” She asks.

“No, I was born here, moved here last year, decided to do the Islamic certificate then apply for the job.” I tell her.

“What do you think of Waleed?” She suddenly asks.

“He is okay, not my type anyway.” I say to her giving her the hint that I clearly don’t want this conversation to start. Because if it starts it will not end. I know women and when they start talking about a guy.

“Not your type because you’re married? Or not your type because he is too handsome?” She says with a grin.

“I’m not into guys.” Boy that sounded wrong.

“I meant that I’m not into marriage at least.” I look at the ground remembering how much my heart felt for one person then those feelings all died in a second. I didn’t want to get hurt again. I am just guarding my poor heart.

“What have you done since the morning or since you came here?” Jamie asks, changing the conversation.

“Painted the wall in my classroom. Decorated all of my classroom actually.” I shrug like it’s no big deal.

Then Jamie just stares at me.

“Did you just say you painted the wall?” Her eyes grew big in surprise. No, in fact they kept growing bigger.

“Yes?” I frown and lean on the table.

“Oh, you are so dead.” She says in a tone that you only hear in movies or between teenagers.

“Why?” I furrow my eyebrows some more.

“Waleed gets mad at a footprint on the wall. Let alone painting.”

“He told me I could paint so I did.” I said very slowly.

“Wow, he never let anyone ever, touch or bring a paintbrush near the wall.” She raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“Guess he was in a good mood.” I shrug.

“Clearly.” She scoffs and a smile forms on her lips.

“Oh please don’t do that.” I laugh.

“I didn’t do anything.” She joins in on the laughter.

“I think I found my first friend here at school.” I smile at her.

“I think you did.” She smiles then winks.

....................................

“I’m home!” I yell as I open the door to my parents house.

“Finally, you were gone almost the whole day.” Mum comes and gives me a hug.

“I got accepted for the job and they said I could start the same day, so I did.” I shrug.

“Well about time.” She laughed.

“Yeah, anyways need help with dinner?” I ask her. I was internally hurt that she didn’t even ask about how my day went.

“No, I’m done habibty. You can go get changed.” I force a smile at her and go up the stairs.

I close my bedroom door and sigh.

My mind wanders to Mr. Waleed and think about what Jamie said.

Sometimes with people, you don’t need more than a few hours to find out that they made their way into your heart.

I’m afraid to love because of the past, but sometimes you feel like the person you just laid eyes on, is perfect. But I can’t do that, not again. Especially not my boss.

I take off my headscarf and let my long brown hair down. I smile at myself in the mirror. Yes, I was hurt deep down, having a wound that I knew wouldn’t be healed so quickly, my mind always wanders to the past, but today when Mr. Waleed was helping me out, I felt so comfortable. I did want to small talk, but I wanted to fear my lord. I have tried to become religious in the past year, possibly helping me in my healing journey.

I shake my thoughts away and put on my pajamas.

I head back downstairs and have dinner with my family. My dad asks me about my day and I tell him everything. Of course, leaving the details about Waleed and I.

“I will also be doing ASL therapy for one of the students.” I tell my dad.

“Really? That’s great!” He responds, patting my back.

“It is.” I smile at him and finish eating.

After dinner, I started doing the dishes and my mind continued to wander to Waleed. He was just that type of man who would walk into a room and show people who is boss, then leave while keeping everyone thinking of him. He was the kind of man that just leaves an impression. A man who also seemed to be too handsome to be real.

I bid my parents goodnight and finish my skincare routine. I sigh and look out the window of my bedroom after I was done with everything and laid on my bed.

Night has fallen and I was tired.

Knowing very well I needed to wake up early to go to my very first day on the job. A real job.

One where I was a somebody.

As I close my eyes to drift into my slumber, all I could see were those emerald green eyes and dirty blond hair.

What have you done to me in a span of a few hours, Waleed?