Damian's POV

"Damian, is that you? My, you've grown into a handsome young man, hasn't he, Jimmy?"

I forced a smile as Nan stroked my cheek, inspecting me with her denim blue eyes surrounded by wrinkles. Grandpa grumbled in agreement, nodding at me. He was a man of few words, and when he did say something, he was usually complaining or ordering Nan around. Yet they still managed to stay married for forty nine years.

"Where's my big kiss? I remember you always loved giving me big sloppy kisses when you were a little boy, just like a puppy!"

I rolled my eyes and pecked her cheek, but Nan wasn't satisfied. She grabbed my face in her hands and began planting grandma kisses on my cheeks until Grandpa saved me.

"Pamela, darling, I think he's had enough."

I shot a grateful look to my grandpa, who shot me a wink, and I grinned, walking over to him and sticking my hand out. He was never a big fan of hugging, and he was the one who taught me how to shake hands like a man. But as soon as we clasped hands, grandpa muttered, "Oh, what the heck, let's hug. It's been a year."

My grandpa always smelled like freshly cut wood. Perhaps because his trade was carpentry, however he retired a couple years back, and only carved wood for fun now.

"Hey, you're taller than me now," Grandpa remarked as he slapped my back. "I guess it's about time I step down from my post of tallest man in the family."

"It must be all the food Karen is feeding him," my dad contributed, grinning at his father-in-law as he shook hands with him.

"Oh, I doubt it. Karen's cooking is preposterous!" Nan tutted, not realizing that Mum had just left her room and come to join us at the front door.

"Thanks, mother, I always appreciate your compliments," Mum retorted sarcastically, and us men laughed while Nan widened her eyes before fixing a smile on her wrinkled face.

"Oh, honey, I was only joking! Come here," Nan enveloped Mum into an embrace, rubbing her daughter's back and murmuring in her ear as tears glistened in her eyes.

Grandpa looked uncomfortable at the sight of tears, however when Mum hugged him, his eyes shone with them, and I had to look away, not wanting to imagine how heartbreaking it was for my grandparents to visit their sick daughter.

"Happy Birthday, dear," Nan handed Mum a red box, and inside was a pair of pearl earrings.

"They're beautiful," Mum breathed, a hand over her mouth.

"Just like you, dear, and don't you forget that," Nan placed a palm on Mum's cheek and gazed at her daughter with unconditional love.

We had lunch in the backyard, which Dad and I had decorated with balloons and streamers we found in the shed. Tracey and Aunt Kate arrived half an hour after Nan and Pop, delivering the birthday cake.

"Are you trying to fatten me up?" Mum joked.

"Maybe..." Aunt Kate replied cheekily as she kissed Mum's cheek.

Tracey gave me a quick hug before sitting in the seat I had saved for her beside me. We were the youngest people here, so we had to stick together. Especially when Dad and Pop started talking about taxes, and the women spoke about healthy recipes, Tracey and I were on our own.

"Can you believe it? Your mum made it to forty seven," Tracey said similar words to what I had said to mum that morning.

"You made it, mum," I had whispered to Mum as I hugged her. "You're one year closer to fifty."

Mum had just laughed, wrinkling her nose. "I never knew that could be a good thing."

"Trust me, it is," I smiled. "Thank God."

"What was that phrase you use in your religion?"

"Alhamdulillah," I had told Mum, taking her hands into my own. We had been in her bedroom, and the light flooding in from the windows lit up her face so that she appeared to glow, almost like an angel. The chemo was really working.

"Alhamlilah?" Mum laughed when she realized she messed it up, so I taught her it, repeating it slowly for her until she finally got it. And she did.

"Yeah, I can believe it," I replied to Tracey as Nan let out a boisterous laugh, clapping her hands. Nan was in her late seventies, yet she was still enjoying life to the fullest. She didn't let her type two diabetes stop her from having fun, and she was one of the most radiant old ladies I knew.

"She's one of the strongest women I know," Tracey murmured, and for a second I thought she was talking about Nan, but her eyes were on my mum, who was smiling so hard I wondered if it was possible to look that happy, but it was. It really was possible.

"She is," I agreed, spooning some of the cake Tracey had brought in. It was caramel and chocolate, my mum's favourite, and it melted in my mouth, still warm from the bakery. "So how's uni?"

Tracey blew air from her lips, leaning back in her chair as the sun lit up her blonde hair, which was out today, tumbling on her shoulders. For a second it reminded me of Sam, but I shook her out of my mind and concentrated on Tracey's reply. "Oh, you know, it's great. Much more flexible than high school, but there's still just as much hard work that's required. I'm even thinking of applying to an exchange program."

"Oh, really?" I knew Tracey was good at French, and she had always wanted to go to France, but hadn't had the chance to in high school.

"Yeah, but of course, I also want to stay here because of your mum and all..." Tracey trailed off, poking her slice of cake until it became a crumbled mess on her plate.

"You don't have to do that. You can go wherever you want in this world, as long as you are pursuing your dream," I advised.

Tracey turned to me, raising her eyebrows. "You really think so?"

"Yes, and if I were you, I'd listen to your wise and intelligent cousin," I joked.

Tracey rolled her eyes. "Typical Damian. I swear, you might have changed your religion, but you're still the same annoying little boy that chased me around with a live worm when you were five."

I smirked, recalling that fond memory. I was such an evil little boy, using my love for bugs to tease others, especially girls, since I loved making them scream. Of course, I had grown from that, and no longer took pleasure in playing with bugs. "Yeah, some traits are hard to kill."

"Speaking of, how's Mariam doing?" Tracey winked, and I groaned, running a hand through my hair. Mum had forced me to get a haircut yesterday in time for Nan and Pop's visit, so it was slightly shorter than usual, but I was still able to style it into a quiff, just the way I liked it.

"She's great, okay? Now stop asking me about her," I replied gruffly.

"Geez, Damian, I only asked once," Tracey smirked. "But you'll be seeing her tomorrow again, right? First day back at school."

"Yeah, so excited," I rolled my eyes, however in all honesty, I was sort of excited for school. I would be seeing all my friends again, and school was where I could temporarily forget my worries and just joke around and do work, of course. I was doing well in school but I could do better if I stopped messing about. It was hard not to when I had been doing that ever since I started school. I was always the bad boy, but that didn't mean I had to keep it that way. And a certain someone had given me reason not to misbehave anymore.

My phone chimed, and I checked it discreetly under the table. It was the notification to go pray Asr, so I stood up, gaining the attention of my whole family.

"Are you going to make a speech?" Dad asked with a twinkle in his eyes from a fresh joke. He and Pop got along well, contrary to the stereotype of the father-in-law not getting along with his son-in-law.

"Well, I guess I might as well," I shrugged, since I still had time to pray later. I cleared my throat and met eyes with Mum, who smiled encouragingly at me. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed, which was a good sign, a sign that she was improving. Alhamdulillah.

"We are all gathered here today to celebrate the birth of the woman who gave birth to me," I began, earning a chuckle from Tracey at my bluntness. Even Pop cracked a smile. "Without her, I wouldn't be standing here. Well, technically, without God I wouldn't be here, but let's not get technical, shall we?"

"I thought you were an atheist?" Pop called out, and I raised my eyebrows at mum, who I had assumed broke the news about my becoming a Muslim to her parents, but apparently not.

"Not anymore," I responded confidently, and Pop waited for me to continue. "I guess Mum hasn't told you this yet, but...I'm Muslim now."

I was pretty sure even the birds sensed the awkward moment as they stopped chirping, and the wind whistled through the air, causing the whole world to seem hushed. Pop froze, and so did Nan. For a second it was as if time stood still, until Tracey spoke.

"Wow, what a great speech," she clapped ironically, and the claps lifted the silent spell from the world, engaging the birds' song once again.

"Is this true, Karen?" Nan turned to mum with a gaping mouth, and she nodded, expression solemn.

"Yes, mother, it's true. My son is a Muslim, and I am completely okay with it," Mum declared.

Pop still didn't say anything, perhaps because he rarely did, but mainly because I had rendered him speechless. I had that effect on people.

"Hey, Dad? Are you okay?" Mum's tone expressed concern, and I turned to look at Grandpa, who was hitting his chest with a fist as he choked on his cake, coughing as his face turned red against his stark white hair.

"He's choking, Darren, do something!" Aunt Kate cried, and Dad, who was frozen in shock as he stared at Grandpa, suddenly launched out of his chair and performed the Heimlich manoeuvre on Grandpa, thrusting him until the piece of cake flew across the table and landed on a half-full glass of water.

Everyone was still in shock even after Grandpa assured everyone he was fine as he coughed a bit more. Mum was the palest out of all of us, and I was still standing in my speech position.

"I'm sorry, Pop," I apologised.

"What are you sorry for? Making me choke?" Pop rasped. "That would've happened anyway, whether you told us you were a bloody Muslim or not. Cake never agreed with me." Pop patted his stomach.

"So do you accept me?" I asked tentatively, swallowing. I knew my biggest fear of converting was not being accepted by my own family, so when Mum and Dad accepted me (it took Dad longer than Mum to accept it, but in the end, he did) I thought the hardest part was over. However, the hardest part was my grandparents, because they were more likely to disapprove.

"Well, I can't do anything about it, can I? These days, kids are doing all sorts of things, and us old folks just gotta sit back and watch," Pop rambled. "So whether you be a Muslim or Jewish or a Buddhist monk is fine by me. You just do what makes you happy, boy."

I smiled, feeling relief in my heart that Grandpa had no problem with it. He was never a religious man, but that didn't mean he was judgemental of others for their choices. Though that was probably the most he had ever spoke to me in one go, and it was good to hear his opinion, since it meant so much to me.

"Thanks, Pop, you da man," I shot my index finger and thumb at him, clicking my tongue, and he just saluted me with a thin smile.

"I suppose you being Muslim doesn't make you any less my grandson," Nan spoke up. "Though it did come as quite a surprise. Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Mum looked sheepish. "Well, I didn't want to bother you. My illness is enough, don't you think?"

"Oh, come now, Karen, Damian's new religion isn't a bother, is it?" Nan patted Mum's arm. "It's very interesting. What made you convert, Damian?" she turned to look at me.

"Well, it helped me through a lot," I began to explain. "And it made me realize a lot about...life."

"Yes, religion is very helpful," Aunt Kate agreed. "I'm not religious, but it's nice to know there's someone up there watching over you even in your darkest times."

"Exactly," I nodded. But it was so much more than that, and I suddenly remembered the reason I had stood up in the first place.

"Where are you going?" Mum asked me, and I twisted my head to look at all of them, sitting at the white outdoor table under the cloudy skies, the people that mattered to me in my life.

"I'm going to go pray," I replied, and a lot of eyebrows raised. I smiled to myself as I headed back inside. I was always surprising people these days, and I had just managed to surprise the people who had known me the longest. So I prayed for them, and their health, but most of all I prayed for myself, because in the end, that was all that mattered. That was all we had left - ourselves.

***

"Tracey, when's the last time you got a boyfriend, huh? You should be living it up and grabbing those studs while they're still fresh!" Nan snapped her fingers at 'fresh' and Tracey's eyes widened in horror.

"Nan, you're talking about them as if they're meat about to go off!" she cried.

"Well, men do have an expiry date..." Nan mumbled, glancing at her husband. "And I met this one at only nineteen, which is your age, I believe, so start hunting or whatever it is you kids do nowadays."

"Gosh, Nan, there's no rush," Tracey's cheeks were flushed at the topic of dating. "And I have my studies to complete, and then -"

"Mum's right, you've been single for too long, Trace, you're a beautiful girl, any boy would be lucky to have you," Mum winked.

"Thanks, Auntie," Tracey smiled, still blushing. "But I really don't think -"

"Stop pretending to be humble, Trace!" I cried in mock exasperation. "Right, Pop?"

"There's nothing wrong with being humble. It's a noble trait in a woman," Pop reasoned, before flashing a frown at his wife of forty nine years. "Too bad my wife ain't got a single humble bone in her body."

"You know, as soon as we hit our fiftieth anniversary I am leaving you!" Nan threatened.

"That's what you said ten anniversaries ago, Pam," Pop said wearily.

"Well, this time I mean it!" Nan huffed. "You snore, you know!"

"And you drool," Pop shot back.

"Stinky!"

"Shorty!"

I swear my grandparents argued like a couple of five year olds.

"Aren't they just so cute?" Tracey gushed.

"No, they're sickening," I snorted. "I just can't believe they still tolerate each other after so long."

"You'd be surprised what people do for love," Tracey murmured as we watched our parents attempt to break up the feud.

Tracey's words lingered in the air between us for a little while, until I heard Aunt Kate exclaim, "Who wants to play monopoly?"

"She's kidding, right? That game is so old," I scoffed.

But I found myself playing anyway, and owning five properties, and taking all the cash. Our family hadn't gathered like this in a long time, and though there were only a few of us here, it still filled my heart with warmth. But nothing could come close to Mariam's family. There was just something missing with my family, an ingredient that was present with Mariam's family, but lacking in mine. Then I realized it was because Mariam's family was Muslim, while mine wasn't.

But they were still my family, no matter what religion, and I still had to respect them and treat them right. The most important thing was that we were here together, perhaps for the last time while Mum was still walking and talking. As long as we cherished each other and remembered that we were not alone in our problems, we'd be okay.

Ya Allah, when did I get so damn cheesy?

***

Mariam's POV

"I see you two are getting along now, huh?"

I exchanged a look with Damian, who I had been talking to for the past ten minutes, helping each other with the work, before glancing at Mr Newton. "Yeah, who knew?"

"I remember at the start of the year the two of you were like two protons that repelled

each other, but then one of you went through Beta decay, transforming into a neutron, and now you exist side by side in the nucleus in perfect harmony," Mr Newton beamed at us.

"Um, what?" Damian looked absolutely confused, while I was laughing at Mr Newton's physics description of our friendship.

"Good one, Mr Newton," I chuckled. "You can't resist using physics in everything, can you?"

"No, I can't," Mr Newton shrugged with a grin. "Perks of being a physics teacher."

"There are perks?" Damian arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, and there are also quarks," Mr Newton laughed at his own joke. Damian didn't look amused. I couldn't help myself, so I laughed with him.

"Teacher's pet," Damian muttered under his breath when Mr Newton was gone.

"How else do you think I get straight A's?" I grinned back at him.

"You are so weird," Damian rolled his eyes, flashing a dimple.

"Thanks," I replied, picking up my pen.

"I think Mr Newton knows what's up," Denise whispered to me.

"What do you mean?" I whispered back, focusing on my work.

"He just described you and Damian like particles in a nucleus. That's physics talk for he ships you guys!" Denise hissed.

I shot a discreet glance over to Damian, who was reading the textbook avidly and completely unaware of our conversation (at least I hoped) before replying to Denise. "You're delusional."

"And you're in denial," Denise sang.

"Actually, I'm in physics class, not the Nile," I quipped, clicking my pen.

Denise rolled her eyes. "Gosh, Mariam, do you ever run out of weird jokes?"

"Nope," I grinned, popping the p.

"Well, I still ship you guys," Denise murmured. "And so does every other person with eyes and a brain."

"So not including Theo?" I joked.

"Hey, don't insult my boyfriend, only I'm allowed to do that," Denise whacked my arm. "And of course Theo has a brain, he just doesn't know how to use it properly yet."

"Well, at least he has enough sense to have finally asked you out," I teased.

Denise blushed. "Thanks, I guess. I still can't believe it either."

"How long have you...liked him?" I'd always been curious about this, but never got the guts to ask.

"It definitely started this year," Denise scrunched up her face as she tried to remember. "I tried not to like him because he's my friend, and that would've made things weird between us, but I couldn't help it, especially when he's so..."

"So...?" I pressed, but then the bell rang, and Denise didn't finish her sentence.

"What were you going to say?" I asked as we left the classroom. Damian was still packing his books and I wanted to get to the locker before him so that I could put my books away quickly.

"He's a great guy, Mariam. Even if he pisses me off half the time, he's kinda cute," Denise reddened at her confession.

"Talking about me, ladies?"

I automatically groaned at the sound of his voice, before I remembered that we were friends now. Kind of.

"No, Damian, we don't talk about you, you're not that important," I responded flatly.

"Ouch, that hurt, Mariam. Right here," Damian patted his heart with a pout, and I laughed at his cute expression.

"Heartache is no laughing matter!" Damian scolded, but he couldn't stay mad for long, even if he was just pretending. "So if you weren't talking about me, who were you talking about?"

"I'm not telling you," Denise said stubbornly.