Weeks had passed since I moved in with Adam. We settled into a comfortable routine. Everyday, we ate our breakfast together, then Adam would drive Jenna to school. I would spend my day cleaning and cooking.

Today was the first day I took some time to myself.

I sat in a small café with my two best friends from high school Amélie and Fatima. The cosy atmosphere absorbed all of my stress and I lost track of time as we caught up.

Amélie looked out of the window as she spoke on the phone, giggling like an idiot. A clear sign that it was her husband on the other end. The once abroad student from France ended up marrying Adam’s younger brother Mazi who was our classmate at the time.

“This'll take a while.” I whispered to Fatima who sat in front of me. Her Duchenne smile made her blue eyes brighter. Fatima wasn't her given name though. It was Emma, but when she converted to Islam four years ago, she changed it to Fatima.

“How’ve you been?” She asked. “I heard that Janice left last week.”

“Good. As good as I can be. I’m still processing everything that happened lately.” It was an emotional goodbye. I couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t be able to see them everyday anymore.

“Yeah, I can imagine. Who’s helping you with Jenna now?”

“Adam, but most of the time I can manage. I have more time now that I’m not working. I’m kind of making it up for her.”

“You know you can always come to me if you need help, right?”

“Yeah, how can I forget? You keep reminding me every two hours.”

She chuckled, looking at Amélie who joined in with a smile that was more an aftermath of her phone call than an enthusiasm for our conversation.

“Did you find a job yet?” Amélie asked.

“No, I didn’t apply anywhere. I need sometime to figure out what I can do considering the circonstances.”

At least, that was the plan, but all I’d been doing was taking care of Jenna, cooking our meals and cleaning. By the end of the day, I'd collapse on my bed tired out of my mind.

“It’s ok, you deserve a break.” Amélie said with empathy.

“What about you two?” I savoured my coffee as we slipped into an easy chat.

“I’m going to Egypt next month.” Fatima said, bouncing on her seat.

“Really?” I was surprised. I didn’t know she was planning to go on a vacation.

“A friend from there invited me to spend the fasting month with them. I’m so excited.”

“Wow, good for you. How did your family take the news?”

Fatima’s relationship with her family took a rocky road since her conversion. With everything they saw in the media, they were afraid to lose her to the dark side.

“Very well, surprisingly. Even my brother decided to tag along.”

“Aw, that’s a huge progress.” I said.

“Congrats.” Amélie said, squeezing Fatima's hand.

“Thanks. What about you, Amélie?”

“I’m pregnant.” She blurted out which caused the table to erupt in squeals.

Fatima jumped to hug her as I joined them despite the tugging at my heartstrings. I sure was happy for her. It was the subject of pregnancy that brought a bitter taste to my mouth.

I sat back, plastering the most convincing smile on my face. I half-listened to them as my hand travelled to the little scar I had on my lower belly. I couldn’t feel it above the layers of clothes, but I knew it was there.

It’d been three years since I’d given birth to my second child. She was a stillborn baby. I never heard her first cry. I never saw the colour of her eyes. My baby was gone before I could hold her to my chest.

My cheeks hurt from faking a smile as my inside crumbled. I’d been supressing these memories for so long. I hid my face behind my coffee, swallowing the stubborn lump. I cleared my throat as I looked away, rummaging in my bag and blinking my tears.

A voice I didn’t wish to hear spoke over our table.

“Hi, girls. Long time no see.”

I lifted my head, hoping I’d find anyone but the person in front of me. But here she was with sunglasses larger than her face and her designer bag that she dropped on our table.

Stacy's saccharine smile didn’t fool us. She said, head tilted in my direction.

“Are you ok, Nadine? You look pale.”

“I was OK, just a second ago.”

“Still a smart mouth, I see.” She pursed her lips.

“I didn’t know you’re back in town.” Amélie chimed in before things escaladed.

“I am, and I’m staying. I’m expanding my business here." She looked at me once again. "By the way, I heard you’re a stay at home mom now. I couldn’t believe it when I first heard about it. I mean, you had good grades at school. I expected you to go far in life. I’d say between the three of you, I’d expected it from Emma, you know, since she became Pakistani and everything.”

Fatima glared at the ceiling, sighing with exasperation. Stacy’s insistence on calling her Emma and her ignorance didn’t change since high school.

“You sound so ignorant, Stacy. I’m embarrassed for you?” I said, not regretting a word that left my mouth.

Stacy’s mouth opened in a silent gasp, looking at me from above her sunglasses. She turned to my friends, a hand over her chest.

“Did you hear what she said to me?”

“Me speak no English.” Fatima jumped at the occasion, which caused my eyebrows to rise in appreciation.

I leaned on the table with one arm and turned to Amélie, raising my cup with the other.

“I say she nailed it.” I said, as if discussing a piece of art.

“Oui, oui, absolument.” She played along, her French accent becoming prominent.

“Le timing, le feeling and the way she delivered it were perfect. Donc, je confirme, she nailed it.”

The way she switched from English to French, articulating her Rs from somewhere in the back of her throat never ceased to amaze me.

We kept praising Fatima’s talent as the designer bag was snatched from the table and angry footsteps stomped out of the café.

“Once a bully, always a bully.” Amélie said, looking at the closing door as we nodded along.