2

I WAKE up with a gasp, my hands gripping the sheets tightly.

The first thing I register is I'm not crushed under a pile of rocks. Instead, there is a weight on my chest,
making it impossible to breathe.

I sit upright, hands clutching my chest in an effort to stop the painful suffocation.

A thin film of sweat coats my skin, trapping strands of my hair against my neck and forehead, clinging to the fabric of my shirt.

I dig the heel of my hands into my eyes, trying to focus on my breathing as advised by a self-proclaimed therapist on Youtube to prevent panic attacks.

It was just a nightmare, just a long-distant memory.

Once my hyperventilation slows down, I reopen my eyes, dragging fingers through my hair.

A moment passes before I plant my palms onto the damp mattress underneath me and push myself off the floor, where I have been sleeping for the past month. Falling off the bed every morning became tiresome after a while.

The sun is wide awake in the sky, pouring into the bedroom through the curtainless windows. It trails across the floor and up onto the naked wooden bedframe.

I limp to the window and crank it open, allowing the morning breeze in. It is cold against my sweat-beaded skin and I shiver slightly, hugging my arms.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I look around the room for the time;
the alarm clock blinks at me from where I threw it earlier when it woke me up for Fajr.

"It sucks to be you, alarm clock," I mumble, bending down to pick it up and place it on the desk beside a pile of untouched books which stare back at me accusingly.

I eyeball them for a second, before looking away; if I ignore them they'll disappear. Ha, and giraffes might fly too.

I yank off my shirt and toss it into the overflowing basket of dirty clothes, noting to myself it is probably time to do the laundry. I grab a change of clothes and pull my towel off the hook nailed to the back of the door, slinging it over my shoulder.

Out in the hallway, the light is turned on, a sign Hani is already up. To second this, his room across from mine is empty; bed made and everything perfectly in place.

As I pass Zeina's room, the door closed with her signature NO ENTRY sign plastered onto it, I'm attacked by the headache-inducing noise she calls music. I consider banging on her door to make her shut it off, but overweigh my peace of mind. Arguing can wait until after I've had my coffee.

After a hasty shower, I walk out of the bathroom, a trail of mist following behind me.

Faint fumes of sizzling sausages drift from the kitchen. I inhale the mouthwatering aroma and my stomach growls and the corner of my lips pull up in a grin.

I stroll down the hallway and past the sun-washed living room, my bare feet quite on the timber floor.

"Assalamu Alaikum!" I say as I enter the small kitchen.

Hani looks up from the stovetop where he is frying eggs and sends me a warm smile.

"W-wa Alaikum Ass-salam," he replies. "B-breakfast is alm-most r-ready."

"Smells terrific," I say, yanking the refrigerator door open.

The glasses on the door shelves clink together, as I stare into a mostly-empty fridge. Sighing, I reach for the milk carton, then swing the door shut with my good knee.

He nods his head at the counter behind me. "I m-made coffee, it is in the p-pot. "

"Wow, spoil me much?"

I grab my mug from the cupboard and pour the last of the milk, tossing the carton away. The empty egg tray on the counter catches my attention and I make a mental note to go shopping for groceries later.

I breathe in the steam rising from the coffee, then take a sip. "Your coffee is even better than mine."

"I'm f-flat-tered," he says. "B-but I'm sure you're just h-hungry."

I hover over the stove beside him, watching him flip the eggs.

"I think I might get used to you making breakfast every day, "I say, sneaking a sausage off the plate beside him. "Am I a bad uncle for taking advantage of you?"

He chuckles, "the w-worst, I'm going to rep-port you t-to child p-protective ser-rvices."

I shake my head with mock disappointment.

"Have some shame man, you're almost as tall as I am and still calling yourself a child!"

He grins and hands me the plate of sausages, turning the stove off.

"Where is your sister?" I ask.

I place my coffee and the sausage plate on the small round dining table in the corner of the kitchen and grab two of the plastic chairs we keep folded behind the door, setting them up.

"She c-came into the kitchen coup-ple minutes b-before you, s-still in her pyjamas, grabbed a c-cup of tea and returned to her r-room, not a w-word sp-poken."

I take a seat, and Hani follows, carrying the eggs and a steaming cup of tea.

"So she's still angry," I say, pressing my mouth into a tight line.

As if on cue, we hear the ring of Zeina's keys clanging, then the front door open and close with a loud bang.

I take that as a yes.

Hani slants his eyebrows, lowering his head slightly as he goes to sip from his tea. "Angry has b-become her def-fault m-mood though."

I let out a heavy, long sigh, "seems like it."

"I th-ink it is j-just an age thing," Hani says. He sets down his cup and reaches for a sausage. "They s-say all t-teenagers go through it."

This makes me cackle. "There's literally a five minutes age difference between you two."

He shrugs, a smiles tugging at his lips. "Every r-rule has exc-ceptions."

"Alhamdulillah," I say. "Allah knows I would have lost my mind if I had two raging teenagers under my roof."

His face morphs and he opens his mouth like he's going to say something, but the moment passes and he looks away chewing on his food.

I disguise my confusion and let it slide, changing the subject.

"So," I start, downing the last of my now lukewarm coffee. "are you excited about today?"

The way his mouth draws into a straight line as he shifts in his chair tells me he is anything but excited.

"I g-guess," he mumbles, gulping down a piece of egg.

"You guess? Today is the last day you'll have that on your leg," I say, jerking my head to gesture at the brace extending from his hip down to his left shin. "You should most definitely be overflowing with excitement!"

He says nothing and instead bites his lower lip.

I sigh, setting down my empty mug. "You're nervous."

He avoids meeting my eyes, rubbing his hand over the brace. "What if I a-am not r-ready though?" His voice is almost a whisper.

He doesn't say it, but it's obvious he is thinking about my knee that never fully healed, about the limp I have till this day. But his situation is different, and he has to believe it.

"Hey, don't worry about that. Dr. Osman said you are."

When this doesn't reassure him, I place my hand over his, holding his gaze with mine.

"You have been in therapy for three years now, you are strong and we took things slow. Insha'Allah everything will go as smooth as when you took off the first brace," I say, making sure he feels how convinced I am.

A slow beam brightens his face and the tension in his shoulders diffuses.

"Insha'Allah," he says. "Than-nk you Unc-cle Zayn, I don't know what I would do without you."

I recline, the knot in my chest loosening.

"You would have more free time on your hands, that's for sure. No coffee or breakfast," I say, grinning.

He lets out an easy, unlabored laugh. "And n-no child p-prot-tective services either."

We finish breakfast with an air of optimism settling over us. Hani stacks the empty plates and carries them to the sink as I clear the rest of the table and refold the chairs.

"Hey," I say, wiping the table with a damp cloth. "I'll do the dishes, you go get ready. Our appointment is in an hour and the streets may get busy."

He nods and turns off the faucet. "O-kay, I'll b-be ready in five, insha'Allah."

My eyes follow him as he leaves the kitchen, all the while I'm thinking how I'm the one who really wouldn't know what to do without him.

<< A/N: In this chapter, I sucked at portraying Hani's struggle with his stuttering which has become better but is still present. In future chapters, I won't write it in dialogue unless it is very prominent, as not to make it hard for the readers, but I am looking for a way to make it still obvious, as that has a part in the story. I am still experimenting tho, so bear with me, haha>>