19 Part 2: Chapter 19

Haya's POV

It's officially summer break.

Everyone's ecstatic. Children wander the streets with ice-creams in their hands, holding onto their parents' hands afraid to let go. People my age are cycling outside—literally at 9 in the morning on a Saturday?—while some teen girls are too endorsed in taking pictures to even notice how boys stop in their tracks to check them out.

And I have been watching all of this from my bedroom window for the past thirty minutes.

Finals went by super quick. I took a leave from school after the syllabus was finished and studied at home, mainly because interacting with people was the last thing I wanted. When it came to smiling, it was a sport I wasn't a pro at since. . .he left.

Pain sears through my chest at the thought of him. I place a hand to my chest and rub it there gently.

Since Aarib left, he took everything with him. My happiness, my smile, my emotions in general. I have been a wreck ever since that. He's a thief. He had no right to take with him what makes me human. What makes all of us human. Emotions. He didn't seem to have his own, so he decided to take mine.

I hate him for that.

But I don't hate him enough because even after three months of nothingness, I don't hate him like I should. How he deserves it. There's not one day that goes by without the memory of him. Everybody gets nightmares in their own forms. Some are afraid of the night, some have their biggest monsters with whom they have to deal with every day.

My nightmares come to me at night. When I get ready for bed, close my eyes, his face is all I see. And even if I shove away the picture of him, he ends up showing in my dreams. I thought of taking therapy, but I don't think that's what gonna help me.

A knock sounds on my door.

"You ready, kid?" Hassan asks.

With my gaze fixed on the road outside, I nod my head yes. I don't have the energy to move my head. That's another thing that happened to me. I almost lost all of my appetite. Mom had to force me to eat, but I just ended up vomiting all the contents of my stomach so she stopped. A month afterwards I started having something to eat. Yet still I am very weak.

"Okay. . .we have to leave. I'm taking your bag. Come down in a couple of minutes."

His heavy footsteps echo in my room. Once I am sure he had carried my bag out of the room, I get up and march towards the bathroom to brush my teeth once again because I don't think at the airport and in the plane I could.

I leave the brush back in the sink drawer as I already put a new one in my suit case—and how stupid of me. I never even told where we were going.

On vacation. That's where all of us—excluding mom who's going to Pakistan—are going. We will stay in Italy for a week before leaving off for turkey and then Pakistan. I wasn't really up for the Pakistan trip because that means I'd have to be super jolly and cheerful, both of the things I wasn't really feeling.

I grab my phone from the nightstand and shove it in my bag. Then I slung it over my shoulder and headed downstairs where there was too much noise.

"This house is becoming a fish market," I point out, drawing everyone's attention to me.

Mom's expression saddens when she sees me. Without wasting another second, her legs start moving and stop before me. She pulls me in her embrace and I close my eyes.

Just don't cry.

Please.

"I will miss you so much."

Mom pulls back after a few seconds, her eyes doing a full scan of me. "I will miss you more, sweety. Just be careful out there in Italy, okay?"

I chuckle without any humor. It was more like a scoff. I know what she's trying to say; stay away from boys like Aarib. She doesn't really have to say his name out loud.

"Yes, I'll be careful. And we have a language barrier. Besides it's not like I will make any friends within a week."

That seems to calm her down a little. Her shoulders visibly relax and a genuine smile pulls up on her lips. "A day with someone special is enough to fall in love with them."

That hit me right to the heart.

"Well, my someone special already came in my life and left. It's not like there are more out there."

A frown etches on her forehead. "You're wrong, but now is not the time to correct you. You kids have a flight to catch. Go."

I gave her one more hug before leaving for the airport.

I slept throughout the entire flight, dreaming about nothing in particular. Maira woke me up once to get some food in my system, but I ended up hurling my guts out.

No shock there.

*do research on rome and the hotels and then insert here*

I gaze at my room in awe, eyes widening to circles at the beauty of the interior.

A king-sized bed stands in the right corner of the room, overlooking the window. I got the perfect view, the sight of the lake which currently shone like diamonds under the glistening sunlight. On the dresser are various type of chips, and coffee pods. I search for the coffee maker—and there sits the machine on the stand to the left most corner. A plush white fuzzy carpet blankets the middle of the room, looking so soft that I take off my sandals and feel the coziness with my feet.

And then something happens.

It's faint, but it's there.

After what feels like an eternity, there's a smile on my face. I feel it. I feel it in my cheeks, in my eyes as they crinkle.

I feel happy for a change.

I begin unpacking my clothes from the suitcase, placing them in the in-built cupboard of my room. For background music I put on teen wolf on Netflix, occasionally glancing at the screen in between doing my work.

Azaan's room is just next to mine, to the left. Maira and Hassan's to the right. I don't know how they did it, but they managed to find rooms in the same row and next to each other. I know for sure that one of the reason is because they want to keep an eye on me. It's not like I'm gonna do something suspicious.

I receive a text from Maira.

Going out to eat! Wear something nice. After all, isn't Italy all about the men? ;)

A laugh bubbles up in my throat.

I type back, No it's not all about the men. And you're such a perv! Okay I'll get ready. I have to shower as well so if I take long, just come inside the room.

Hassan has a key to my room, too. I didn't argue why. I understood he is worried too much about me.

Oh, come on! Have you not seen italian's in movies! They're gorg, and I have a feeling you're gonna meet someone awesome this week. Have a feeling he's gonna be handsome, a heart throbber.

I let out a full laughing roar at her message. Maira really is impossibly a freak. She, along with me also has a passion for Italian novels. I don't reply, instead hop right in the shower to get cleaned up and get rid of the airplane tiredness.

After getting dressed in a long flowy dress that reaches my ankles and pleases the eye by its bright yellow color, I blow-dry my hair and tie them in a bun. Deciding against my usual style, I grab a jersey hijab and wrap it around my head and chest, and to finish off the look, I slip my feet inside my white boots. Because I have lost a lot of weight, I wasn't that very curvy girl anymore. I mean, I still have the curves, but just not that defined.

Also, I didn't bother with makeup.

Exactly after five minutes my fam is at the door.

Maira's eyes widen in surprise when I pass her a grin. I don't know myself what has gotten into me, but I have this sudden urge to let myself feel content. For a weird change, Aarib's memories aren't haunting me anymore.

"Wow you look beautiful," Maira chirps, grinning from ear to ear.

She looks dazzling herself. With a baby blue skirt and a white blouse, she looks inquisitive and the black stilettos make her the same height as Hassan. And of course, the pink hair just looks perfect.

"And you look perfect," I smile. And it's genuine.

Azaan is too much into his phone, frowning at the screen that he doesn't even notice when I mumble hello to him. Worry is etched onto his face as he jams his fingers on the screen.

"Azaan?" I call out once again.

He jerks his head up with wide, open eyes. "What?"

"Are you okay?" I nod at his phone. "Everything okay on there?"

He runs a hand through his hair, making them stick out in every place. "Yeah, everything's fine. We should get going. let's go."

We leave our hotel 'boutique hotel campo de' fiori' and get an uber. The nearest pizza place is around minutes drive from our hotel and on our way there, I couldn't help but admire how beautiful Italy is. Despite not understanding a single word that the driver was uttering in his language, we tried to show our best interest. Maira would pass me a grin and we'd both chuckle knowingly.

"Uh, you don't speak English?" Azaan, who was sitting in the passenger seat asks the driver.

The man with grey streaks in his dark hair gives off a bark of laughter. "Yes yes I know! Little bit. Very little." His accent confirmed he knew just tit bits.

I lean my head against the window, gazing out at the pedestrians roaming the streets. I wonder if we really look like tourists with our different sense of style.

"Oh that's wonderful." I could hear the relief and amusement in Azaan's voice. It was dripping with sarcasm. I reach forward and give him a smack on the shoulder. He winces—being the drama queen that he is—and mutters a fake ow.

"First time your in Italy?" the driver, whose name we found out is Enzo questions, obviously attempting for small talk. His English is so cute that it brings a smile to my lips.

"Yep, first time our in Italy."

"Azaan, will you stop making fun of the old man?" I whisper hiss in his ear, hoping the driver couldn't hear me. "It's bad manners."

"It's not bad manners, it's fun."

The restaurant maranega comes into view making my blood thrum with excitement. This is the first time I am so eager to go somewhere in months, even if it's just a basic restaurant near our hotel.

We pay the taxi driver his fair and enter the restaurant together, the smell of food hitting our nostrils as we hum in delight. People turn to look our way but because they aren't Pakistani people, they go back to minding their own business.

Maira links her elbow with mine. Bringing her face closer, she whispers, "That boy is checking you out," she giggles. We walk behind my brothers' to the nearest empty booth.

"Maira, we've been here for like 2 seconds. And he's not checking me out," I observe, following Maira's line of sight.

A boy around my age, maybe three or four years older than me has his eyes fixed on me, not even blinking. He has blonde hair and dark eyes from what I can tell, which is kind of a weird combination but it suits him. Another bizarre thing is that he's looking at me as if he's seen a ghost, or probably a vampire walking in broad day light. He quickly grabs his phone and shoots up from his seat, exiting the restaurant in a hurry, pushing past the people blocking his way.

My heart skips a beat as I watch him leave.

What just happened?

"Huh, maybe he's gotten love sick," Maira says as we slide into the booth and lower ourselves onto the soft plush seats.

I can't seem to stop looking his way—where he disappeared. There is definitely something off about that boy's behavior. He seemed to know me. Like he recognized me somehow. But that wasn't possible. It is my first time being in Italy and I don't have any friends here.

Maybe he's a freak.

As the waiter approached and took our orders, I still couldn't seem to shake off the weird feeling from my chest.

My thoughts kept wandering off to Aarib. . .maybe that's how that boy recognized me? Aarib would have told him about me. . .

No.

Aarib's chapter is closed from my life.

He's not coming back.