The Billionaire and The Niqabi

Prologue

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"Some things are destined to be- it just takes us a couple of tries to get there."

-J.R. Ward, Lover Mine-

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An old room with lingering scents of cheap alcohol.

A lightning strike plummeting the world into abyss.

A gunshot, the smell of gunpowder and blood. A lot of blood then a thud and dead body.

"NO!" A loud shrill in the dark night as the child set up panting, clutching his chest. A little girl beside him stared at him in horror as she too clutched his white vest.

"Bhai- Bhai it's just a dream-" whimpered the girl, around 6 years of age. The older, perhaps 10 years of age, brother hugged her back. He held her tight as if he'd lose her.

"Go to bed Iqraar. I am fine." he addressed his sister and pushed her down on the mattress. He smiled at her as he watched her succumb to slumber. His sister was his life like his mother; his only family.

The next morning, he got up and walked out to the small kitchen. He lit the fire and put water on it to boil. He knew his mother was out working late again so he was responsible for his sibling.

"Iqraar! Get up! You will be late to school!" He called out just as he begun preparing breakfast.

"Coming bhaiya." she called back. She stood in front of the small broken mirror tying her hair and with failed attempts she let it go.

"Iqraar! Come out na, I will do your hair!" Her brother yelled again and this time, she ran.

As she set eating eggs and milk for breakfast, her brother tied her hair, put her lunch on the table and fetched her shoes. He put the shoes on her legs and tied its laces. The only good shoes that they had. One day, we'll not have to deal with only one pair of shoes, he thought with determination.

His sister finished breakfast and thanked him before getting up.

"Now climb my back and we will go to school." He said and his sister laughed, her laughter giving him happiness.

"Bhai. I can walk." She reassured him but he was determined.

"My sister and walk? Never!" He said, throwing his hands over her shoulders dramatically making her laugh too. In the end, she had held his hands and walked to school.

Once he dropped off Iqraar to school, he then headed to work. His mother alone cannot support both of them so he had to take responsibility too. For my family. No one else.

"Iqraam! Please do the dishes before services begin." A man, probably the owner, told him and he nodded.

In the afternoon, he had gone to pick up Iqraar from school and headed back home with his day's pay in his pockets safely. He would use it for the next meal or perhaps give to his mother, Fatima.

Fatima waited for her children at home. It wasn't much but it was all they could afford, for now. Fatima remembered Iqraam telling her that and she believed her children. They would be great people.

A week passed by and Iqraam met Shumayll Edris. Soon enough, the duo's lives changed for the better.

That was the beginning of Iqraam Ibrahim, the self-made racer and extraordinaire. 

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:) 

| R - C - V |

xx,

Aalihha.