I never had it easy.
From watching my parents succumb to the horrors of a car accident to craving the healing presence of the man I love-my entire life-I had navigated through this messy maze I call my life with a shard of hope in my heart.
Every da...
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Chapter 20 | Stay Alive
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"Mubaraka, can you answer a question for me?"
"Yes."
"Honestly, truthfully, sincerely?"
Mubaraka sighed. "Yes, just ask."
"Is it true girls roast guys in group chats?"
Mubaraka's lips stretched into an involuntary smile, and she looked up from her book to catch a bewildered Wahdan with a phone in his hand. She slid her bookmark into her place and closed her book, twisting in her seat at the kitchen table.
"Why do you say so?"
Wahdan hesitated. "Because a friend of mine had to endure their wrath."
"And how does this friend of yours know he was roasted?"
Wahdan groaned. "Because! His sister was a part of this group where none of the girls knew he was her brother. My friend had sent one of the girls a courteous text about the masjid newspaper and he, innocent as he was, ended up under their fire."
Mubaraka shook her head. "Your friend has gone through the worst of it."
"But why do you girls have to roast every guy who tries to talk to you? Not all of us are a flirt. Or stupid."
"And how would you know so without being in a girl's shoes?"
Wahdan rolled his eyes and put his phone on the kitchen table before he made his way over to the cabinet, where he'd hidden his stash of Maggi, and slid one packet out.
"We still exist, you know."
Wahdan had acquired such seriousness as the words left his lips that Mubaraka had to pull off the lighthearted smile on her face. "I never said the count was zero."
"You certainly implied it. Guy talks in a polite and decent way-gets roasted. Guy flirts-gets roasted. The road may stretch into two separate paths, but they'll lead us guys to the same destination."
Mubaraka watched as her brother set a pot of water over the stove to boil his noodles. "What are you so riled up about?"
"I don't show it, but it really frustrates me how every girl out there is set to believe that every guy is the same person in a different body. They don't even give any of them a chance."
Mubaraka pursed her lips, a crease forming between her eyebrows. "Have you taken into account how sometimes it's those girls' own experiences that shape those impressions?" She turned to look up at the ceiling, her heart in her throat. "Maybe they weren't treated that nicely prior, or maybe they were taken advantage of when they trusted one of them. So they end up believing every guy is the same."
