You broke me first- Tate McRae

A month since the passing of Baba. A month since the day my mom started staying in doors, a month since I last saw my father's usual friends or even doctor. Three days since my third visit to the market.

I started going there from school again since my mom is now home, I claim some stuffs on days she cares and keep quiet on days she doesn't.

On my third visit, I told Rayyan what happened.

"My dad died" I had said as we sat at our usual spot

He looked at me with concern "I'm so sorry"

I shook my head "It's not that he is my dad or I've known him for years that
hurts. It's finally connecting to him, getting to know him and then it ending just as it started. Almost like getting a glass gem and it breaking into a thousand pieces just as you grasp it"

He nodded "May Allah ease your affair"

I smiled "Ameen"

"I only speak with my siblings whenever I get the chance to. As for my dad, I don't know how he is or if he's alive or dead"

I frowned "And your mom?

He shook his head "She's dead. since I was a child"

Not knowing what to say, I kept quiet and let the silence linger for a few minutes before saying "You don't care about him?

He looked at me, with his calm and warm eyes "I wasn't given the chance to decide if I should care or not"

"I understand" I replied

"What is your most craved wish? He asked with a smile

My first thought was "to stay here forever". Rayyan's presence is bliss, it is peace. He holds so much calmness and ease that he's starting to feel like the appropriate home.

"To reach a point of satisfaction and peace" I paused "You?

"To feel something. To feel valid"

I opened my mouth to tell him just how valid he is but chose not to knowing he also wanted to tell me I should already be satisfied but chose not to.

"You did secondary school? I asked and he nodded

"I have a degree Certificate too"

I turned to him bewildered. Here I thought he never saw the walls of school when he is way pass my education status even. I was genuinely happy at the thought of him not being an illiterate.

"I thought...I thought you didn't--

"Go to school? He laughed "I did"

"But aren't you supposed to have a white collar job"

He nodded "I should, but I don't. Didn't you hear work in Nigeria is when you know someone higher"

"But its not that bad" I protested

"It is" He affirmed "The only way is if know someone. You have to have a connection"

"So when you were an Almajiri, did you memorize the Quran? I questioned

He nodded adjusting his beanie cap "Went back to an Islamic school years back to further my Islamic knowledge too. The best choice I've ever made"

"Wow! I breathed out and added "So you stopped seeking for jobs and started a spice shop?

He shook his head and adjusted his sitting "The man I once worked for paid for all my school expenses. After I graduated with no work, he started the spice business and put me in charge of it. Eventually as it was going well, I made enough to buy the shop from him and decided to stick with it since the government isn't my aid anymore"

I shook my head "You never seize to amaze me. You're knowledgeable, Islamic and Western wise. You have set up a business from scratch"

He gave me a soft look "You're amazement all wrapped up Ammarah"

Our gazes locked for a few seconds before I looked away.

"What are we painting today?

He smiled "An empty heart"

"Two empty hearts? I questioned playfully

He shook his head "Two beating organs, one heart"

I gulped slowly and grabbed the brushes. He collected them, walked to the river and rinsed them again before cleaning the  brushes again. We sat on the mat and he divided the sketch pad sheet into two.

"I do one part, you do the other. They connect here" He tapped at the middle of the sketch pad.

I nodded, and he brought out the colours before we slowly started to paint. Once in a while I look over to him and watch how his eyes concentrates on his art, how he tucks his lower lip in, how he randomly adjusts his beanie letting his hair line peek.

I turned to my own painting with a little smile. An hour later, we were done with the painting even when he finished minutes before me. He collected mine and slowly patched it up with glue. When it was dry, he handed it over to me.

"You can now have your piece madame" He bowed a little

"Why thank you" I smiled taking it and bowing back

"It's getting late. Let me walk you"

I nodded and grabbed my bag and we started walking away from our spot. Weird how I now refer it to "our spot"

"So, What is your favourite colour? Rayyan asked

I shrugged "I don't actually. I like all colours"

I turned to him "What's yours? Red?

He looked at me amused "Because my beanie is red?

"No. Because your beanies are always red. Different patterns but the same colour"

He nodded in affirmation "You sure can seek out details"

I smiled and thought 'If only you are aware of how I know about the the curve of your smile, the gap in your teeth, the strands of your brows, the edges of your eyes. Every single detail about you Rayyan, every single detail.

On our way out, we met a friend of his who sells fruits sitting beside his fruit shelf wearing a tired look. When he saw Rayyan, his face immediately lit up.

" Ahh ahh Rayyanu. These days I've not been seeing you"

Rayyan nodded and smiled "Things have been keeping me"

The man then turned to me with a warm smile "What can I offer you young lady?

I quickly shook my head "No I'm with--

"She's with me. Her name is Ammarah" Rayyan said turning to look at me

"Ammarah meet Usman. My childhood friend"

Usman grinned and adjusted his sitting. Placing a leg on top of the other"Rayyan and I used to do everything together before we now struggle to stand on our feet. Although this guy is firm on his feet already. Rayyan has such a good heart and Allah blesses those with good heart"

"Usman, don't you have a good heart? Rayyan asked with a raised brow

"Not as good as yours" He grinned and grabbed a nylon bag stuffing bananas into it before handing it to me.

"No, you don't have to" I said taking a step back

He shook his head "I insist"

Rayyan beckoned me to take it and I hesitantly collected the bag "Thank you so much!

He smiled "If you could be anything in this world, be a kind and generous person. Like Rayyan over here"

Rayyan laughed, shook his head and bid his friend goodbye as we walk out of the market.

"He likes you" I said gesturing to the direction of his friend.

"We are now family"

I nodded "Just like Rahma and I"

"The girl you came with?

"Yes, she's our help actually"

He said nothing and instead looked at me for some minutes "I'll see you soon"

I said "very soon"

Rayyan smiled and stood there with his hands stuffed in his pocket while he watched me leave until I was out of sight.

I took a taxi back home all the while thinking of how to go back there.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

I saw Dr Yahya's car before I saw him. I walked into the living room and met him on the couch with my mother, her friend and my uncles.

"Ammarah! My mom called out "You're home"

Realising she didn't acknowledge the time I'm coming back or how I came back made me more worried. That would only mean she is already bothered by something and with the look of all the people in our living room, I don't assume it to be good.

"What is happening? I asked walking further into the living room

"Ammarah, here" Dr Yahya said handing me an envelope

"What is this? I questioned with furrowed brows as I acknowledge the envelope

"Your father strictly asked it to be delivered to you" He said and I looked over to my mom who had a confused and scared expression

Is she afraid of something in the envelope?

I looked at their faces, all eager to know what the content is and said "I'll go read it in my room"

I didn't wait for their response and instead hurriedly ascended the stairs and opened my bedroom door. I removed my bag, closed my door, removed my hijab and settled down on the bed to tear it open. Slowly and gently, I opened the envelope and removed a letter.

My heart beat started palpitating as I slowly unfold the letter. Something about my dead father writing me a letter I could only read after his death was both scary and uplifting. I unfolded the letter and my eyes picked on the first line.

Forgive me, Ammarah