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Black rose: Change
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When I get home from the party, Ihsaan is hovering around in my room and not-so-subtly scrutinizing me. He's been checking up on me every night since Mikaal spoke to him about my incidents, for lack of a better word.

However, today is different. I can tell he wants to ask me something, but because of the constantly fluctuating distance between us, he's hesitating to upset me.

To distract him because spending time with Rameez has left me in a good mood that I don't want to ruin, I direct the attention towards him. "So," I say as I wipe my face with a makeup remover. "I had fun tonight. Hanging out with old friends. Which reminds me—why don't you hang out with any of your friends anymore?"

Ihsaan flinches, the question catching him off guard. Then he shrugs, averting his gaze. "Don't really have the time to now."

I scrunch my brows as I unclip my hair. "That's not true. You're off on the weekends, and now that you're manager you designate a lot of tasks to other people. You can make time if you want to."

His eyes slowly travel up to mine. For a few moments, there is only the sound of the bristles running through my hair as I brush it. Then Ihsaan says—so quietly that I almost don't hear him—"It doesn't feel the same anymore."

I set the hairbrush down, trying not to show how eager I am that he's slowly opening up. Alas, after rattling and rattling at the doorknob of Ihsaan Amanullah's heart, he has opened the door a crack. "Because Arafat is...gone?"

He flinches again, rubbing a hand behind his neck. "Yeah."

"Do you think..." I start slowly, pressing my lips together to contemplate my next words. "Do you think it might help you to hang out with both your friends? They might be able to understand and relate to you."

He shakes his head. "I don't want anyone's pity. My pain is obviously very different from theirs. Even if they can understand me, they could never relate to me. They lost their friend; I lost my brother."

His voice has grown considerably quiet. For a moment, there is pin drop silence between us, and I feel awfully connected to him, having just experienced yet another gathering where people's eyes are full of sympathy when they look at me.

Ihsaan breaks me out of my thoughts and hesitantly says, "Besides, Arafat was...the glue. Now that he's gone, we've all kind of..." He brings his hands together and then blows them apart in a motion simulating an explosion. "Scattered."

My heart lurches at the despondent tone of his voice. I hate seeing him like this. I know we've had our issues over the past couple of months, but I want my brother to be happy. I want him to laugh and joke and be a little unserious again, like the old Ihsaan Amanullah used to be.

"I know what you mean," I whisper, and the room is so silent that even my low voice carries. "But I think you should try to reconnect with them. Who knows?" I shrug. "Maybe they need your company just as much as you need theirs."

Ihsaan's eyes bore into mine as he contemplates something. "When did you get so old?"

It's supposed to sound funny, but given the context of our situation, it only causes sharp tears to prick at my eyes. Luckily I'm saved from having to provide a response when Ihsaan says, "I'll think about it."

And those four words alone bring a warm smile to my face.

. . .

The next weekend Abeer comes over to my house because she misses my "cute squishy face" and wants to rant about some things.

She doesn't bring up the weird incident at Rumana's house and Rumana's words, and I don't broach the topic either.

I sense that even though Abeer and I have somewhat eased back into our old routine, she's grown much closer to Rumana over the past couple of months, and I don't want to put her in an awkward position where she feels like she has to choose between her old best friend and a close friend.

We're currently sitting at the kitchen table making chicken wraps and she's yapping away about how she loves one of her professors but is bored to sleep by the class and feels bad that she doesn't enjoy it. I listen to her with a bemused expression on my face, and when she finishes ranting and takes a deep breath to resupply herself with much needed oxygen, I place a hand under my chin and joke, "Drop out."

She clutches her chest and widens her eyes in mock horror. "Is this the same Hayat Amanullah who—just last week, might I add—told me she's going to become a doctor?"

I stick my tongue out at her. "I'm kidding."

She bops my nose. "I know you are. Speaking of which—not that I'm complaining—but you seem to be in a much better mood these days."

My mind immediately goes to the constant texting Rameez and I have been doing since Rumana's birthday party, and a corner of my lips turns up. Two days ago he sent me a picture of his new shoes, and I was ecstatic that he felt comfortable enough with me to do so. I proceeded to send him a picture of the book I was reading—one of Arafat's old med school textbooks—and we've been going back and forth with random pictures since.

"Yeah, I was actually having a pretty bad week last week," I say. "But...certain things made it better."

She furrows her brows while adding chopped pickles to the wrap. "Why were you having a bad week, and why didn't you tell me you were having a bad week?"

I chop the chicken tenders into bite-sized pieces. "Because you were going crazy with assignments last week. I didn't wanna bother you."

She rolls her eyes. "Tell me now!"

I sigh, immediately grimacing as I remember. "It's nothing major, really. I just...had a very awkward and embarrassing encounter with someone, and it made me feel weird for days afterward."

Abeer abandons her wrap and turns to me with wide eyes. "A guy?" I nod and she squeals, startling me. I set the knife down and narrow my eyes at her.

"Sorry!" she chirps, eyeing my finger. "Are you okay?"

"If I hadn't stopping cutting, your wrap would have been covered in blood, not ketchup."

Abeer flinches and examines my hand, leaning back when she's satisfied. "I'm sorry! But who's the guy? Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me—"

"Okay, okay," I say hastily, holding my hands up. I press my lips together, unsure why I'm hesitating to tell her this. So far, I have only had to drown in my embarrassment alone. If I vocalize it, it will become too real.

But it was my fault for hinting at it, and Abeer won't let it go until I tell her.

Breathing out a deep sigh, I murmur, "You remember Mikaal Zaman, right?"

She nods vigorously. "Yup. Arafat bhai and Ihsaan bhai's friend."

I nod, then begin explaining the interactions we've had since Arafat's death, and the limited ones before that. When I get to the part where Mikaal told me we should keep our distance, I scowl. Abeer prompts me to continue, and I finish the story hastily without looking in her eyes.

I feel oddly embarrassed about it all, as if I've revealed some deep, shameful secret.

Abeer presses her lips together, contemplating my words. Finally she says, "You might not like what I'm gonna say, but here goes." She takes a deep breath. "Mikaal might be right."

I knit my brows, anger flaring up. I try to tamp it down as I say, "What do you mean?"

"Hayat, look." Abeer preoccupies herself with assembling her wrap so as not to look into my eyes. "I'm not the most religious person, and I definitely have a lot to improve in terms of my spirituality, but I know you, and I know what you were like before, too."

"What was I like?"

She sighs, raising her gaze to mine. "You weren't very comfortable in interacting or being friendly with guys just for the sake of it. Sure, you interacted when it was about school or something else, but you never really went beyond that. So if Mikaal got uncomfortable by your niceties, it was probably because he noticed that you were being different than before."

I grimace, guilt dredging up my throat. She's right, but hearing the truth is causes an uncomfortable feeling to settle in the pit of my stomach.

"I don't think he told you to keep your distance to upset you. As your brother's best friend, he probably still feels some kind of responsibility towards you, and didn't want you to compromise certain things about yourself. Or maybe he didn't want to compromise things about himself, either. I've only seen him around here and there—at the masjid or at community events or with your brothers—but from the little I know of him, I know he doesn't just mess around with people for the sake of it. I think all his interactions with girls probably have a valid purpose."

I quiet at Abeer's words, discomfited by the idea that Mikaal potentially feels responsible for me. I don't want him to feel any sort of debt or responsibility towards me as a result of being his dead best friend's little sister. I want him to treat me like a regular person.

Abeer sets her chin in her hands and scrutinizes me. "Why are you so upset, though?"

"What?" I say quickly. "I'm not upset."

She raises her brows. "You're a terrible liar."

I avert my gaze. "Really, why the hell would I be upset?"

"You tell me."

"Fine," I huff. "Maybe I am a little upset. But that's just because I was surprised. I didn't think he felt that way, or that I was being weird."

Abeer ducks her head to look into my eyes. Then, suddenly, a slow smirk spreads across her face. "Hmm. Or is the cause of your distress something else? Is it what I think it is?"

"What?" I panic at the sly look in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

She waggles her brows. "Is someone catching feelings?"

I gasp, standing so quickly that my chair falls backward. My eyes widen at the amused expression on Abeer's face. "What the hell?" My voice comes out too high. "No. Oh, my God, no. Absolutely not."

"Why so panicked?" Abeer says, a smile spreading across her face.

"Because that's—because you're crazy, that's why. You're crazy for even thinking that. I mean—I know he kind of called me out on this, but I've always seen Mikaal as a third brother." My heart, to my utter dismay, has begun beating like helicopter blades.

My best friend cocks her head to the side, the smile still on her face. "But he's not your brother," she points out. "Like he said."

I huff, stepping back at the force of her words. "Oh, my God, not you, too. I know he's not my brother. I'm saying he's always felt like one. I just get that vibe from him."

Abeer holds her hands up, pressing her lips together to contain her laughter at the horrified expression on my face. "Okay, okay. I'm just messing with you." She becomes serious again. "So if you're very sure you don't have feelings, why are you upset?"

"I don't know, I just..." I trail off, frustrated as to why I don't have a proper response to her question.

"Do you think he's trying to be holier than thou? Are you offended by him setting boundaries? Like, what's the problem?" Abeer throws question after question at me, and each one feels like a physical blow.

Why can't I give her a proper answer?

I pick up my chair and hesitantly sit back down, playing around with my fingers and avoiding the scrutiny in her gaze. "I think...I feel like..." I take a deep breath, squeezing my eyes shut and reopening them. "His presence brings me comfort." I blow out an exhale. "There, I said it. When I see him, I think of Arafat. I don't know, I just...I sense my brother's presence when I see him."

Abeer tilts her head. "I mean, it makes sense. They were very close. But that can't be the only reason, can it?"

"No, I'm telling you Abeer." I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my palms to my eyelids. "When Mikaal said that to me...I felt weirdly heartbroken. I guess it's because I've always seen him around and I've seen him as a brother, and it felt like..." I remove my palms and open my eyes, blinking blearily at Abeer. "It felt like I was losing someone else after Arafat's death."

Abeer pushes the cutting boards to the side and reaches across the table to grasp my hands. She squeezes them, her touch exuding warmth.

"Losing Arafat has really broken me," I murmur. "I can't afford to lose more people that he knew. That's why I made it a point to befriend Aneela, even though Ihsaan is—for some reason—wary about her. I just...Arafat's not here, and I wanna be able to have a connection with every part of him that was here. And Mikaal...Mikaal was one of those things."

I quiet, focusing on the warmth of Abeer's hands to gain my bearings. I can't believe I said all that. I didn't even realize how I felt until the words left my mouth.

"I understand," Abeer says, sadness lacing her voice. "When you told me about Aneela, I was kind of confused about why you wanted to get to know her so bad now, after everything. But I get it now. And...weirdly I understand both your position and Mikaal's position." She pauses, waiting for my reaction, but when I remain silent, she continues. "You feel connected to him because he's another living memory of Arafat bhai, but Mikaal doesn't want to make any compromises and wants to set boundaries, even if it means upsetting you in the process. I obviously don't think his goal is to upset you, but I guess some things are hard and fast rules. Like his boundaries. I guess he thinks it's better to potentially upset you than to cross any lines."

I watch Abeer's thumb as is strokes a comforting pattern across my knuckles. "I guess you're right," I finally say. "But I can't help but feel upset and angry."

She nods. "I know. But I also know you can accept and appreciate people's preferences and values. Speaking of which...can we talk about your preferences?"

My gaze darts to hers. I scrunch my brows. "What preferences?"

She averts her eyes and presses her lips together in contemplation. When she opens her mouth, I'm surprised by the words that come out of it. "There's something going on between you and my brother, right?"

Oh, God. I did not envision having this conversation. I assumed we could just keep whatever is "going on" under the radar, but I should've known.

"Are you mad?" is the first thing I whisper.

"What?" She turns to me with knitted brows. "No, of course not. I'm just a little surprised, is all." Abeer hesitates. "Can I say something?"

"You know you can always talk to me about anything."

She nods, removing her hands from over mine and fidgeting with them in her lap. "You're changing, Hayat. And look, after everything you and your family have been through, I want nothing but for you to be happy. You deserve it, always. You can't imagine what it was like for me to watch you from the sidelines as you spiraled and spiraled. I'm so, so glad you're coming back to yourself."

Abeer hesitates, running her fingers through her tangled curls. "Again, I know I'm like, the least religious person and I'm not sure I have a right to say this, but I think that as your best friend, it's my duty to caution you.

"Like I was saying, you didn't really do male-female friendships, let alone think of relationships. Remember how uncomfortable you were by the idea of mixed gatherings?" I don't reply, but Abeer barrels on anyway. "I was always the harami out of the two of us. I did things you wouldn't necessarily do, and you would always try to keep me in check. We were just talking about compromise in regards to Mikaal, but I think there were a lot of things you put your foot down on, too."

She sighs, her eyes traveling up to mine. "Trust me, I'm not doing the whole back-off-from-my-brother thing. I love Rameez, and I love you, and I want both of you to be happy. I just wanted to say...just make sure you're not sacrificing Hayat Amanullah and her values in the long run. Just be careful, okay?"

Abeer quiets then, scared eyes probing my face for a change in expression.

I'm not going to lie, her words are making me uncomfortable. Do I feel this way because her words are true? Do I feel this way because I've been noticing a change in myself, too? I've definitely been happier since starting...whatever this is with Rameez Khan. But am I potentially endangering my morals for it?

I shake the questions out of my head and blow out a sigh. "Okay," I say, wanting to steer this conversation in another direction. "Thank you for always looking out for me, I appreciate it. I think I'll be okay. I'm also glad you're not weirded out by all of it."

"Of course not." Abeer smiles at me, but for some reason it doesn't reach her eyes.

. . .

Assalaamu 'Alaikum (peace be upon you),

Interesting convos taking place. O_o

I have a lil something funny coming up teehee.

Thanks for reading!