Leilah Usman awaits an acceptance from a university abroad so she can leave the country she never loved when she stumbles upon an ancient diary. Through the eyes of Mahrosh Irfan, she finds herself in a world so completely different from hers.
One w...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
What constitutes a perfect plan?
One: it is simple.
Mahrosh completely awoke when she splashed a handful of freezing water on her face. Her reflection stared back at her through the mirror and it gave her a determined nod.
Two: it is specific.
She got dressed once she was done praying. The sun had not completely risen outside and the pin drop silence in the house was proof enough that everyone else was asleep.
Three: it is realistic.
In mere seconds, she had wrapped the shawl around her head and had stealthily sneaked her way downstairs. The walls of the house remained the only witnesses as Mahrosh carefully made her way outside through the side door. They watched — as they always had: the only ones who had been there to witness each one of her adventures and were there to both welcome her home and bid her goodbye when she went on them.
These very walls had witnessed the tension in the house the night after Aleena and Walid had left. They had listened to the concerning discussions between the grown-ups over Walid's sudden declaration and then had peeked in on the girl who seemed entirely unbothered by that and sat instead — coming up with a plan for a matter that concerned her more.
To the world this girl was the strange one but the walls that bid her good luck understood.
Mahrosh stopped when the familiar door came into sight. It was a house she knew perhaps just as much as she knew her own — and it was perhaps the only door that would have welcomed her at this time of the day if she had walked over to it and knocked. But she did not.
She stepped, instead, into the gali* beside the house.
Mahrosh prided herself in her perfect calculations when she saw the bicycle boy only minutes later. He cycled across the bumpy road, reaching for the newspapers rolled up in his basket and skillfully threw them at the doors of each house.
Mahrosh remained hidden only till he had disappeared. He cycled away and the street was once again quiet and empty — perfect for her to tip toe towards the familiar doors and slowly pick up the newspaper.
She checked the content once and found the article on page eleven — it was still being printed. This time, her heart did not sink when her gaze dropped to the name under her article and she did not feel any dread overtake her.
The ends of her lips tilted into a smile as she rolled up the newspaper and tucked it under her arm.
Mahrosh practically skipped her way back home.
Four: it is complete.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
