Anisa's POV
"Take me home where I belong, I can't take it anymore."
— Runaway by Aurora
Home felt like home again, because Umma was alive and healthy.
I was curled up in my lilac bean bag, watching the last episode of Snowdrop, a tissue clutched in my hand as tears streamed down my cheeks.
I couldn't help it. They didn't have to kill the male lead like that.
That's when my phone started ringing, dragging me out of my emotional trance.
Hanifah was flashing on the screen.
"Anisa. Tell Aunty Fati to tidy up my room," she said as soon as I answered.
No "Hey, Anisa, how are you doing?"
No "How's Umma feeling?"
Just straight-up orders.
"Okay," I replied shortly and hung up before she could say anything else that would make my heart ache even more.
I decided right then not to relay the message.
First of all, Hanifah wasn't the boss of me.
Second, she had Aunty Fati's number—why not call her herself?
Every day, every single indifferent word from Hanifah or Abdul, I tried to ignore.
But not today.
Today, I wasn't in the mood.
I was already drained from crying over a fictional K-drama character.
I didn't even finish the last episode before I drifted off to sleep.
---
The Adhan for Asr prayer—or rather, the slam of a door across my room—woke me up from my deep sleep.
Wait.
She's back?
Hanifah, I mean.
She barged into my room, her voice already raised.
"For goodness' sake! A simple instruction and you can't even understand. Anisa, are you dumb?! What did I tell you to do?!"
Before I could react, she grabbed my ear, and pain seared through me.
I winced but kept my mouth shut.
Ignoring her was safer.
Because if I opened my mouth, I might say something that would leave a scar.
"What's all this noise I'm hearing?!"
It was Umma, her voice sharp as she rushed into the room, pulling Hanifah away from me.
"What are you doing, Hanifah?!" Umma screamed.
Hanifah jerked away from her, letting go of my ear.
"Like mother like daughter, they say. I can't stand you disguised witches!" she spat before storming off.
Umma rushed to me. "Are you okay?" she asked gently.
I nodded.
"Anisa, just continue to be patient, okay?" she said softly.
I nodded again.
Seeing no tears, she sighed and left.
But let me finally make things clear:
Hanifah and Abdul were my half-siblings.
Their mother left when I was very little, and ever since, they blamed Umma and me for her leaving.
All these years, we were patient.
But I don't think I can do it anymore.
---
The next day, school was just the usual:
Teachers teaching things I wouldn't understand until I read them later at home, class drama, nauseating couple moments, and all that.
We were given the WAEC timetable too—yeah, I was in my final year of secondary school.
And I got a freaking 263 in my UTME!
(Thank you, thank you.)
Later that day, Janan caught up with me.
She explained her phone broke, so she couldn't call to check on Umma. I had forgotten to call her too.
While updating her about everything that happened, I accidentally mentioned Umar.
We were sitting outside, during lunch break, after stuffing ourselves with food.
"Wait—is he handsome? Like all those Korean actors you drool over?" she asked, grinning like a cat.
I knew I was trapped.
"Not even close... but yes. I guess."
"You guess what?"
"He is."
"Neesa, he is what?"
"Ugh! For goodness' sake, just leave me alone!" I cried dramatically, covering my face.
"So... did you exchange numbers?"
"No, we didn't."
"Anisa?"
"Fine! Yes! But only for emergency!"
"You mean the heart kind of emergency?" She winked.
"Seriously!!!" I screamed, shoving her lightly.
---
School ended, and surprisingly, Abdul came to pick me up.
Umma was at a wedding.
I honestly wondered why Abdul even agreed to come, but hey—who was I to complain?
I quietly sat in the front seat.
"Good afternoon," I mumbled.
"Mhm," he replied without looking at me.
Halfway home, he stopped the car—in front of a café called Brew Haven.
I'd seen it every day but never cared to go in.
"Go get me an iced latte. Get something for yourself too, if you want," Abdul said, handing me his ATM card.
I dashed into the café.
The smell of fresh coffee wrapped around me.
The wooden tables, two chairs at each, gave off cozy vibes.
I headed to the counter, where a barista stood, waiting for a cup to fill.
He wore a brown apron with the café's logo, a baseball cap covering most of his hair.
He had a long hooked nose... and dimples on both sides.
"Salam," I greeted.
"Wa alaikum salam. Welcome to Brew Haven," he said, flashing a kind smile.
"Can I get an iced latte to go, please?"
He nodded.
"Anything else? We have cream-filled doughnuts, croissants, tiramisu—"
"I'll have the tiramisu, please," I said quickly, already tired of being overly polite.
"Iced latte and tiramisu to go. Got it," he said, then walked off to prepare the order.
I found myself sitting at a counter stool, staring into space.
After a few minutes, he returned.
"Your order's ready."
I handed him the card to pay.
"By the way, I'm Fahad," he said as I tapped in the PIN.
"Oh," I answered awkwardly.
(Rudeness, my toxic trait.)
"And you are?"
"Anisa."
"Well then—see you next time, Anisa."
I nodded with a small smile and left.
Back in the car, I handed Abdul his latte and card, then immediately dug into my tiramisu.
It tasted heavenly, especially with the semi-hot air blowing through the window.
I even let out a tiny burp when our house came into sight.
Malam Bukar had already opened the gate.
As soon as Abdul parked, I opened the door to leave—but then—
"Where are you going, you idiot?!" he snapped.
What the hell?
"Uhm... inside?" I shrugged.
"Don't you see all the crumbs you left on my seat?"
I quickly pulled a tissue from my bag and wiped the crumbs without saying a word.
If I looked at him, I knew I'd roll my eyes, and that was a risk I couldn't take.
But just as I turned to leave—
"Hey!" he barked.
I snapped.
"Oh, what else do you want? That I pick crumbs off you too?! Or maybe sterilize your precious car because filthy me dared to sit in it?!"
I didn't even recognize my own voice.
"Is that how to talk to your elder? Seems like you weren't raised properly."
"Elder, you say?! All I see is a sympathetic, miserable life you're clinging to! And don't you dare talk about my upbringing!"
The shouting match escalated.
I stood at the door, he remained seated—and then, just like that—
He slapped me.
It happened so fast, I barely registered it.
Just a numbing pain on my cheek.
That's it.
Through hiccuping sobs, I whispered,
"Do you hate me this much? Do you just... want me gone? Would everything be better if I disappeared?"
I didn't wait for an answer.
I stormed off.
Inside, Aunty Fati caught me.
"Anisa, you're back!" she said warmly, probably coming from the kitchen.
"Good afternoon," I said flatly, climbing the stairs as fast as I could.
"I made blueberry muffins!" she called out, waiting for me to squeal.
"Oh," I mumbled.
Once inside my room, I threw myself onto my bed.
And that's when the real tears came—the kind that waited until you were completely alone.
Why was this happening to me?
Had I offended Allah in some way?
Was it so wrong to want a little happiness?