☆ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠
⋆ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇs:
↳ It's one of the shorter chapters you're gonna see of this series, but i just wanted to create a base/introduction for the next events. I hope you like it! ᡣ𐭩.
⋆ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs:
↳ I do provide a brief description of scarring, and I also hint at some past trauma.
Amaani had been lounging on the takhat outside when the call came. She’d been itching at the thin raised scars — their pinkish tone so fucking obvious against the rich brown of her skin — etched into her hands; her mind elsewhere as she’d stared at the forest ahead of her when she'd heard the ring of her phone — seen the name flashing on her screen.
Amaani's standing beside the airport's check in area now — one hand wrapped around the handle of a worn out suitcase while the other pats at the soft obsidian hair of the little boy buried against her legs.
“You’ll come back soon, right? Right Appi?” A hand tugs at her cargo pants, tightening their hold on the pocket flaps, “Appiiiii! Appiiii, Answer meee!”
“Allah mujhe bachae,” Amaani laughs, “yes, meri jaan. I’ll be back as soon as I can, and with a shiny new F1 seat too! If you make due for me, that is.”
Zakariah pouts at his sisters teasing tone, raising his head from where it’d been pressed against her hips, eyes narrowing—
Amaani looks away immediately, fingers twitching as her thoughts begin to whir — She can’t- not here, please. Not again. She can’t shecan’t she can’tshecan’tshecan’t—
“Amaani,” her mother’s hands brush against hers, an abrupt pull back to reality. Zainab’s long fingers curl around her own slightly, “I think it’s time for you to go shehzaadi, you can call your chipku brother once you’ve landed.”
“Amma!” A cry of outrage.
Amaani chuckles, slipping her hand out of her mother’s grasp purposefully before she squeezes her brother’s cheeks.
“Okay guys, I’ll call you once I’m on English soil; pretty sure Liam’s gonna be there too for some sim work — you can continue lecturing him about whichever cuisine he’s been annoying you about now, if you want, Zaku.”
“Amaani, wait, please—”
“We’ll talk later, Amma. Tell Nani and Nanu I said goodbye, okay Z? And tell our Mamus I’ll miss them. And tell Faisal and Akbar not to touch the snacks in my room. And make sure Laila goes nowhere near my closet. And keep Hayaa-”
Giggles interrupt her tirade, Zakariah’s eyes crinkling as the girl blinks in surprise. Amaani huffs sheepishly; she hadn’t even realised the tangent she’d gone off on!
“I’m gonna go now, before I start talking again and miss my flight, or just forget I have a plane to get on in the first place.”
The nineteen-year-old turns around, taking a few steps forward before she hesitates, then swivels right back — eyebrows scrunched together as she frowns.
“Kia ekh aur ‘bye-bye pappi’ ke liye khud phooch na pari ga!?”
