"I'm so hungry," Yasmine groaned, eyeing Theo's souvlaki hungrily.

"No, you're not, Yaz," I nudged her with a smile.

Yasmine scowled. "Don't you dare try your reverse psychology bull crap on me, Mims."

"Oh, come on! It totally works," I cried in protest.

"No, it doesn't," Yasmine huffed, crossing her arms. "And I am not going to pretend to eat an invisible sandwich like you made us do last year."

"That was hilarious," Denise recalled with a smirk.

"People were giving us looks," Yasmine moaned.

"Sometimes that's a good thing," Theo shrugged, chomping on his souvlaki as if he were in an advertisement. I ignored the meaty smell that wafted from his lunch and focused on anything but the hollow emptiness in my stomach.

It was Ramadan. That joyful time of year where we abstain from food and water from sunrise to sunset and slowly starve ourselves until we can feast for Iftar. I tried not to think about the food Immi would be making tonight for dinner and instead thought of all the impoverished people in the world, who had so little, while we had so much...

"I don't know how you do this," Damian lay on the grass clutching his stomach and closing his eyes, trying to 'hibernate.' "I'm dying."

"Oh, stop being such a drama queen," I chided teasingly. "We're only halfway through the day."

"Exactly," Damian groaned. I was quite impressed how determined he was on fasting every day for his first Ramadan. And because Yasmine had bet that he couldn't last a whole day without giving up, Damian was even more insistent on winning. That was his motivation anyway.

"You can give up, if you like," I poked him with a twig, and Damian flinched.

"Never," he mumbled.

"We won't judge you if you decide to call it quits now," Yasmine added. "It's totally understandable, since it's your first Ramadan and all."

"No, I want to do this!" Damian raised a fist to the sky, eyes still closed but eyebrows pinched with determination. "I'm going to prove how dedicated I am to Islam, even if it kills me!"

"It probably will," Theo chuckled.

"I admire your determination," I said, and Damian opened one eye to look at me.

"You do?"

I laughed at how child-like he sounded. "I remember my first Ramadan, I totally bailed after three hours and ate my friend's chips," I recalled wistfully. "You're doing well."

Damian straightened up, leaning on his palm. "Of course I'm doing well," he said a little cockily, before sheepishly adding, "Alhamdulillah."

I exchanged a smile with Yasmine. It had been around three weeks since Damian had converted, and he was a regular at the mosque, going there every Friday and Saturday to learn more about Islam. In those three weeks he had been hanging out with my friends and I, always asking me questions about religion. When his friends found out he was a Muslim they were surprised, and that was an understatement. It looked like Sam was going to pass out when he declared his new identity. But his mates were totally supportive, though they were a little disappointed to discover that he could no longer party or drink and hook up with girls like he used to. Damian's reply to this was simply that he didn't care about all those things anymore, which probably shocked them more than his confession.

"Looks like someone else is also doing well," Theo pointed over to where Damian's friends were clustered. Among them was Sam, who was openly flirting with Lachlan, and he was loving every second of it. I turned my gaze away, not interested in watching the whole ordeal. My stomach wasn't the only thing fasting - so was the rest of my body. But it was hard when I was surrounded by sins.

"Typical Sam," Damian muttered with a shadow of a smile. "Always chasing after a guy."

"Didn't she used to chase after you?" Theo asked slyly.

Damian turned to Theo with an unreadable expression. "Yeah, but come on," Damian gestured to himself. "Who wouldn't chase after this?"

We all laughed, since we had gotten used to him making comments like that. It didn't irritate me like it used to. I guess Damian wasn't the only one who had changed.

"How about you, Theo? Who've you got your eye on?" Damian nudged Theo with a sly smile.

"None of your beeswax," Theo retorted.

"Oh, so there's someone?" Damian prodded.

"Maybe," Theo murmured, flicking his eyes over to Denise, who was fumbling with a paper bag in her lap, folding it into squares and refusing to look up. From the way he looked at her, it was enough to figure out that he fancied her, and Damian seemed to pick up on this, raising his eyebrows at me and Yasmine.

"Hey, Denise," Damian hissed, and she looked up with startling blue eyes.

"What?" she snapped, tossing her folded paper bag away, just as Theo tore his gaze away.

"Nothing," Damian grinned cheekily, looking back to Theo, who had a slight tinge of red in his tanned skin. After a beat of silence, Damian blurted, "Why can't you guys just admit you like each other?"

Denise and Theo simultaneously widened their eyes while Yasmine covered her own mouth in shock. I was speechless, while Damian grinned like he had solved the Rubik's cube in less than ten seconds.

"What makes you say that, Damian?" Theo asked nonchalantly while Denise turned a bright red, almost as red as her flaming locks.

"Yeah, where'd you get that idea from?" Denise added with a nervous chuckle.

Yasmine and I just rolled our eyes at each other. "Because it's obvious, duh!" Yasmine said. "You'd be an idiot not to see it."

"I'm not an idiot," Damian proclaimed proudly, raising his hand. Then he turned to Theo, poking him on the arm. "But you are."

"Why am I an idiot?" Theo asked sulkily, rubbing his arm.

"Because you were born that way," Denise couldn't help but grab at the opportunity to insult Theo, which seemed to be her way of showing affection.

"Oh, thanks, Denise, for that enlightening piece of information," Theo shot back sarcastically. "Now I finally understand my life's purpose."

"Glad to be of assistance," Denise said sardonically.

"Anyone else smell that?" Damian inhaled the air dramatically. "It smells like...sexual tension."

"Or maybe the smell is just you," I teased.

Damian continued sniffing the air. "Hm, it seems to have gotten stronger..."

What was that supposed to mean?

"I smell it too," Yasmine said, shooting me a cheeky look.

"Sorry, guys, it was me," Theo pretended to admit apologetically, breaking the tension and making us all laugh.

"Laughing just reminded me how hungry I am," I clutched my stomach with a grimace.

"Maybe you should eat your invisible sandwich," Yasmine suggested mockingly.

"Okay, fine, even I admit that was a weird idea," I said, cracking a smile.

"It's totally delicious though!" We all turned to Damian, who was actually pretending to eat an invisible sandwich. I cocked an eyebrow.

"That's just sad," Denise tutted.

"No, it's smart," Damian claimed as he 'swallowed.'

"And do you plan to do this for the next twenty nine days?" I mused.

Damian didn't answer immediately, for his mouth was full. Theo and Yasmine were doubled over in laughter as he held up one finger for me to wait until he swallowed. I rolled my eyes. "Yes."

Suddenly, a pained expression crossed Damian's features and he clutched his stomach. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Indigestion," Damian choked out.

Only Damian, I thought, shaking my head in amusement.

***

Ramadan was the month when the Mosque was the most packed, and it was also the month that I felt the most pride to be a Muslim. Every night we would attend the seminars at the mosque, where Sheikhs and muftis would come and preach the teachings of Islam to educate us Muslims. I learned so much each year from these sessions, strengthening my faith and knowledge of the prophets and the examples they set for us.

I spotted Damian talking to Hassan in the men's section, and I noticed he was wearing regular jeans and a jumper, nothing special, but on his head he was wearing the white cap the Imam had given him three weeks ago. I was so distracted by him that I didn't realize Fatima was speaking to me until she pinched me.

"Ow! What was that for?" I pouted.

"You weren't listening to me!" she scolded with a teasing tone. "And you've been gazing at Damian for a bit too long."

"I wasn't gazing," I protested. It was just strange to see him in the mosque, even if he had been coming here for three weeks now. He had learned to pray and was even attending classes every Saturday to learn the Quran in Arabic. So far he only knew Surat Al-Fatiha by heart, which was really impressive in my eyes. For someone who had rejected faith for so long, he was now embracing it with open arms, and I couldn't have been more proud. It was all thanks to me - and Allah, of course. I had given him the directions, but it was Allah S.W.T who had opened his heart to the destination of Islam. So how could I take credit for something as wonderful as that?

"You were gazing," Fatima said in a confirmation tone, but before I could further protest she dragged me over to where my mother and sister were so we could stand in line for Isha prayer. I was still burping up the beautiful food I had feasted on for Iftar. After a whole day of not eating, food never tasted so good.

"Mariam, look, it's Zaid!" Zeinab whispered, pointing to the front where Zaid was standing beside Nasr.

"So?" I deadpanned.

Zeinab's smile faded into a pout. "You're no fun."

"We're in a mosque, there's no time for fun," I said. "Only worship."

"Fair point," Zeinab nodded, and we all simultaneously raised our hands for prayer. And astaghfurullah, all I could think about was Damian! He was infecting my brain, and every time I prostrated I tried to rid him from my thoughts, but it was difficult. He was everywhere now. The bus. Physics class. Recess. Lunch. The Mosque. I couldn't escape him!

But alhamdulillah, by the third ruku' my head cleared and all I thought of was my Creator, the One and Only Allah, the King of the Universe. He was truly the One I couldn't escape, and the One I would gladly have in my thoughts.

***

Damian's POV

"How was the class?" Dad asked me when I returned home from my Saturday class at the mosque. Today I had finally learnt the last three surahs of the Quran by heart. Apparently they were very important surahs, plus they were pretty short and after a lot of repetition, I finally got it.

"It was great," I replied cheerily, and I briefly told him about what I had achieved. Dad forced a smile. "That's great son. Though I have no idea what that is."

My smile faded as I realized then that there was no one I could share this information to in my family. It saddened me in a way that I was alone, but I was used to being alone. I had been alone for eighteen years.

"How long until you can eat again?" Dad inquired, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. "Three hours?"

"I can't believe you, son," Dad shook his head in disbelief as he peeled the banana. "Isn't it hard?"

"Of course it's hard, Dad, but it's part of my religion," I answered. "Got a problem with that?"

"Absolutely not, you do what you want, Damian," Dad said, biting into the banana. I watched him hungrily, before shaking my head and ignoring the churning in my stomach. I couldn't give up now, not when there were only three hours and twenty one minutes and fifteen seconds left until Sunset. Not that I was counting.

"I'm going to go check on Mum," I told him, heading down the hallway to the guest room Mum slept in now. Having stairs was seriously inconvenient for her condition, so we made everything she needed downstairs.

It was so good to have her back home after so long in the hospital, but that didn't mean she was completely better. She still had her nasal cannula and oxygen tank wherever she went, and Auntie Kate dropped by every couple of days to do the cooking and cleaning, because Dad always burnt the food.

I could only eat halal meat, so Auntie Kate shopped at the Halal butchers shop and bought our meat from there. The first time I tasted halal meat, I noticed it tasted slightly better than the meat I used to eat. Or maybe I was just imagining it.

When I said this at the dinner table Auntie Kate laughed and said maybe it was because she was such a good cook. To me that sounded a little conceited, but I didn't comment on it.

"Mum, how are you doing? Are you cold? Do you need another blanket? Would you like some tea?"

Mum laughed softly at my concern. She was in bed watching a show on Netflix that involved a lot of canned laughter, and I perched on the edge of her bed, awaiting her response.

"Oh, Damian, I am perfectly fine here, thank you," she replied with a bright smile. For a moment she looked perfectly normal, as if she wasn't sick. But the nasal cannula kind of ruined the appearance of normality.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

Mum nodded. "Yes, I am sure. Now go study, I know you have a test coming up."

"Can't I stay here with you and watch Fuller House?" I really didn't feel like studying, especially when I hardly had energy to think straight. My eyes flitted over to the alarm clock on the bedside table. Three hours and eighteen minutes remaining.

"No, Damian, go study," Mum said sternly. Even while bed-ridden she was able to order me around. I sighed, planting a kiss on her forehead before leaving the room and obeying her orders.

As I studied, my mind kept wandering to a certain girl who had changed my world. Man that sounded cheesy. But it was true.

Mariam Barakat was the reason I prayed five times a day now (other than for Allah, of course), the reason I was abstaining from food and water for twelve hours a day for a month, the reason I hadn't lost hope. And what had I done for her in return for all these things? Absolutely nothing.

Her birthday was this Monday, which was also a public holiday, according to Theo, whose birthday was today. I had texted him happy birthday, wishing I could be there to celebrate with him, but he was throwing a party tonight at his place, and I didn't want to go to a party during Ramadan. It just seemed wrong to revert back to my old ways in a month of blessings and religious rebirth.

There were so many things I had to give up to become Muslim. Alcohol, pork, sex before marriage, my arrogance. And yet all these losses were nothing compared to all the gains, such as this newfound peace within me that I could not explain. It was like there was nothing to worry about anymore, even when in reality it was the contrary. I had school to worry about and Mum to worry about, yet these two worries seemed less than before. Mariam said that putting your trust in Allah lifted the burden from your mind, and it really did. And right now I was trusting Allah to take care of my mother, because in the end, she would return to Him, and I couldn't stop that.

I also couldn't stop myself from dialling Mariam's number, because I was itching to tell someone who understood about my latest achievement.

"Salamu Alaykum, Mariam," There was something so melodious about that greeting, and I loved saying it.

"Wa alaykum musalam, Damian," Mariam replied cheerfully.

"Guess what?"

"What?"

"I can now recite the last three Surahs by heart," I divulged proudly.

"Masha'allah," Mariam praised, which literally meant, 'God willed it.' Indeed He did, I thought. "Let's hear it, then."

"Okey-dokey," I cleared my throat and then began to recite them, from Surat-Al-Ikhlas to An-Naas.

"Not bad for a revert," Mariam said after I had finished.

"Thanks," I grinned, even though she couldn't see me. Then that got me wondering what she looked like at that moment, whether she was wearing a hijab or not...No, Damian, don't go there! I mentally scolded myself. It was hard to stop my mind from thinking like I used to, but I had to train myself. I couldn't think of girls like how I used to. Girls were the diamonds of Islam, as Yasmine had said on multiple occasions. They were to be treasured, not trashed.

"So...it's Theo's birthday," I said.

"It is," Mariam remarked.

"And on Monday it's your birthday," I continued.

"How did you know?" Mariam sounded shocked.

"A little birdie told me," I replied.

"Theo," Mariam sighed.

"Yup. And I want to give you something," I said.

"You don't have to do that," Mariam interjected.

"Yes, I do," I insisted stubbornly. "You deserve it. I feel like I owe you a lot, after all you've done for me." I could practically hear her blushing on the other end of the line, and I smiled to myself. I still got it.

"You don't owe me anything," Mariam objected. "Seriously."

"No, seriously, Mariam, I owe you something at least," I said firmly. "Something to make up for all the sh - bad stuff I've done to you." I stopped myself from uttering a swear word just in time.

"What bad stuff?" Mariam asked innocently.

"Oh, come on, I was a total jerk face to you, remember?" I said, cringing as I remembered how rude I used to be. I truly had been a total jerk face.

"I try not to," Mariam replied curtly.

"Which is why I'm going to give you something nice, so you can forget all the nasty comments," I said.

"Oh, so you're going to buy my forgiveness now, Brewer?" Mariam quipped.

"Maybe..." I said sheepishly. "But would it work?"

"Depends on the gift," Mariam replied lightly, and I laughed.

"It's a surprise," I told her.

"Wait, how will you give it to me? You can't possibly come to my house, my dad would kill you," Mariam said, and I couldn't tell if she was joking or not.

"He sure sounds like a nice bloke," I chuckled.

"Yeah, he's so nice he'd chase after you with a stick just to make sure you never come back." This time I really couldn't tell if Mariam was being serious or not. Either way, I wasn't taking my chances.

"Okay, I'll pass it on to Nasr and he can give it to you, how about that?" I suggested.

Mariam seemed to be taking this into consideration. But then she said, "Damian, you really don't have to get anything for me. Please."

"Why not?" I couldn't hide the disappointment, even if there wasn't much to be disappointed for.

"I forgive you, okay? I forgive all the crude arrogant egotistical remarks you made against me, so don't feel obligated to make up for all of that. I'm touched that you are willing to pay for your mistakes, but I'd rather you give something to charity than to me."

"Typical Mariam," I muttered. Of course she would rather me give to charity. "You are too nice for your own good. But since when did you do anything for yourself?"

"Excuse me?"