Damian's POV

Uni was awesome.

I decided to go to Swinburne, and applied for courses in business management. Despite my previous rejection to everything business because of my father, I realized that I actually enjoyed Business Management, or 'Bizman' as we liked to call it, and after speaking to my father about my decision, he approved of it, saying that I was made for the business path. But I was also made for uni. I felt so...free. And independent. Two things I took pleasure in.

I also took pleasure in making new friends, and boy did I make friends. Was it just me or was everyone nicer in uni? The best part was the prayer room reserved mostly for Muslims, and there were so many Muslims compared to high school. It was probably one of the first times that I felt I belonged, and the Muslim guys I befriended couldn't even tell I had converted until I told them, which made me feel proud of myself.

They tell you when you finish high school you will be alone in the world, but I never felt less alone in my life.

"How was your day?" Mum asked as I kissed her cheek upon returning from a tutorial.

"Great. I made new friends – again," I smiled, setting my backpack down and removing my shoes.

"Not surprised, Mr. Popular," Mum chuckled, and I followed her into the kitchen where I poured a glass of water for myself. I had forgotten to take a water bottle so for two hours I was parched.

"Hey, what can I say? The people love me," I was in a good mood, and it improved when Mum laughed, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed. Even with her limited stage small cell lung cancer, she managed to live her life to the fullest and be grateful for everything. She had to take lots of medications during the day in order to ease her pain, but she never complained. Sometimes I wondered if it'd be better if she did complain, because the worst thing one could do was say they were okay when inside they weren't.

"Of course they do, what's not to love about my beautiful son?" Mum said, stifling a cough.

"See? This is why I was so cocky in high school, because you keep feeding my ego with all these compliments," I side-hugged Mum, rubbing her back, which was so bony, I could feel every ridge of her spine and ribs through her blouse. She wasn't a short woman, but beside me, she seemed so small.

"Well, at least you feel good about yourself," Mum patted my arm, leaving the kitchen and me. I noticed how the sun shone on the silver sink, creating patterns on the cream walls, and an idea suddenly struck in me.

"Hey, Mum, do you want to go to the beach?" I asked.

Mum backtracked into the kitchen, raising her eyebrows at me, but I could see the spark in her blue-grey eyes. "Now?"

"Why not?" I grinned. I didn't have a class until two days later, so I had plenty of time to catch up on my notes from the tutorial. Plus, I felt Mum needed a little break from the house.

"Let's go, then."

I didn't think I had ever seen my mum so happy than I did as she stood at the water's edge, letting it kiss her bare feet with each wave.

"I feel so alive!" she giggled, holding onto her floppy yellow hat that almost blew back in the wind. She had grown a short pixie cut that suited her well, but she still wore hats to cover it up. I personally thought she looked badass.

"Don't go too far," I called as Mum waded in further. I felt like I was the parent in this situation as I watched her brush her fingers through the water like a child.

"Come in with me!" Mum waved me over, so I obeyed, kicking off my thongs and slamming my feet into the damp sand. It was a warm day of sunshine, but Mum's smile outshone the sun's rays in my opinion. Call me a momma's boy, but I loved seeing my mum happy. Especially when this might be her last year. But only Allah knew, and all I could do was live every day with her like it was her last, because that was how we were supposed to live, anyway.

***

Mariam's POV

I should've expected Zaid to get into Melbourne Uni. But that didn't mean I was happy about it, especially when he was in two of my classes, and he scored a 99 for his ATAR. Inside I was cursing, but outside I fixed a smile on my face and praised, "Masha'allah!"

"Yeah, well," Zaid smiled modestly, brown eyes twinkling. "That's what I think every time I see you."

"You're going to end up in the ICU just for saying that, Zaid," my smile was long gone and instead I was rolling my eyes at his stupid lines. He used to always say the lamest things in order to impress me last year, and it seemed he hadn't changed in the slightest.

"Not bad," Zaid approved of my comeback, and I decided to turn away from him, focusing on the lecturer who had just entered the theatre. There were at least two hundred others in this room, which was more than the amount of year twelves in my group. Uni was so big, and it only made me feel the need to grow into it.

I had heard stories about uni, how it was where you discovered yourself and became your own independent person, and that was true. I was here for my future, and unfortunately, so was Zaid.

"Isn't it fate that we ended up in the same uni, studying the same course?" Zaid said as we left the lecture theatre. I had taken lots of notes, which I had had a lot of practise in my high school years, and now I had to get to my next class, which was in building...

"Zaid, I need to go to my next class," I stated straightforwardly.

Zaid nodded, slinging his satchel on his shoulder. "Sure, okay. I'll see you around."

I forced a smile before heading to my next class. I thought once high school was over that I'd be free, but life had only just begun, and it was up to me to take charge of it, with the help of the Almighty Allah of course. He was with me everywhere I went, reminding me to stay focused, whereas Zaid was doing the opposite. As the weeks went by, I realised how annoying he really was now that I saw him more than twice a week.

"Would you quit flirting with me? It's seriously haram," I was at breaking point by the sixth week, and Zaid blinked back innocently at me.

"Flirting? I was just complimenting you!" he claimed.

"Whatever you're doing, just stop it. I'm trying to focus here," I said sternly.

"Oh, so I'm distracting you?" Zaid waggled his eyebrows, and I groaned.

"No, you're annoying me! I'm pretty sure there's a big difference!"

Zaid held up his hands in defeat. "Okay, okay, you got me. I was flirting, and I'm sorry. I can't help it."

"God help you," I muttered, facing the front again. He sat directly behind me, which wasn't too bad since I didn't have to look at his stupid face. Astaghfurullah. I didn't need to waste my anger on this guy.

"Is he bothering you?" a guy beside me with glasses and dishevelled brown hair asked, and I shrugged.

"Depends, are you going to stop him from bothering me?"

The guy smiled. "If I do, will you tell me your name?"

"My name?" I stifled a laugh.

"Yeah, it's just that I've been sitting next to you for six weeks, and I don't even know your name," the guy chuckled. "Weird, isn't it?"

"To be fair, I don't know yours either," I pointed out. Not that it made a difference to me, I thought. I could probably go longer than six weeks without ever speaking to this guy, but I guess it couldn't hurt to know.

"It's Clive," he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his slightly crooked nose, and I raised my eyebrows slightly at his name.

"Interesting name," I commented.

"I bet yours is more interesting," Clive said, and I was instantly reminded of Zaid.

"First, you have to get this guy off my back," I jutted my thumb over my shoulder to where Zaid sat. Clive glanced there confidently. "Easy," he smirked.

"Oi, buddy, quit harassing this nice young lady here! She's had enough of you," Clive called loudly to Zaid, which was completely unnecessary since they were a metre apart, but in this case, it was necessary for Zaid's humiliation.

"I'm not harassing her!" Zaid shot back, reddening at the looks people were giving him from around us.

"Yeah, and I'm not wearing glasses," Clive retorted, and the people who heard began whispering, some even laughing.

Zaid looked utterly humiliated and defeated, and after meeting my eye with a slight pout and hurt look, I turned to Clive and said, "I'm Mariam."

Clive's eyes lit up. "I knew it'd be an interesting name."

"It's not that interesting. It's actually pretty common where I'm from," I replied.

"And where's that?" Clive questioned, and hence our friendship began. He introduced me to a few other friends he had, including two girls, one of them being an Indian beauty named Priti who was also doing a medical degree and the other a quirky Vietnamese dog-lover by the name of Amy, studying graphic design. He also had a few engineer mates that would join us at lunch times, and I found myself sitting with so many different people, getting to know their stories and what they were studying. Everyone here was so smart, and it felt good to have intelligent conversations that succeeded beyond the boundaries of what ice cream flavour we would be or what the best condiment was.

Ah, how I missed high school. Not.

But I sure did miss lunch times with Theo and Denise's bickering and Yasmine's boisterous laugh and all the leaves and grass blades we had shredded.

***

"I think I'm in love," Yasmine gasped as soon as I answered the door, and my thoughts instantly went to -

"With these SHOES!" Yasmine pointed down to the white sandals on her feet. "They are so comfy!"

"Well, you'll have to take them off if you want to come in," I told her, and Yasmine obliged, slipping them off her feet and following me into the house. After saying Salam and kissing my mother, we holed up in my bedroom. Zeinab would be returning home in an hour, and since Yasmine and I were both free, we were hanging out for the arvo.

"How was your class?" I asked her.

Yasmine flopped onto my bed and sighed. "It was alright. I thought it'd be more fun to learn about design, but there's more to it than just looking at pretty patterns."

"I think it's the same with everything, right?" I said, gathering my hair into a ponytail.

"I'm thinking of taking Islamic studies classes too."

I raised my eyebrows at her. "Really? That's great, you totally should."

Yasmine nodded. "Yeah, I think I need to learn more about Islam. I feel like I know nothing about it next to you."

"Didn't I teach you anything last year?" I asked with a smirk.

"You did, but there's more, isn't there?" Yasmine's eyes shone with the determination to learn, and I smiled, joining her on the bed.

"There is, but don't forget the more we know, the more responsibility we have," I said.

"I think a little more responsibility couldn't hurt, could it?" Yasmine grinned. "Plus, I feel so grown up now, especially since I've started learning to drive and cook. Mum's teaching me how to make traditional Lebanese dishes." Yasmine pulled a face.

"That's good," I knew Yasmine never liked cooking, but at least she was getting over her childish desires and growing up. We all had to start some time.

"I'd rather learn how to make spaghetti, or lasagna, but I guess falafels are the next best thing, right?"

"Right, spaghetti and falafels," I laughed, causing Yasmine to laugh with me.

"Not a bad idea," Yasmine remarked. We fell silent after a while, until Yasmine asked, "Have you heard from Damian lately?"

"Not since a week ago," I replied, glancing over at my phone. The last we spoke, he had told me how great his life was, Alhamdulillah. He had made lots of Muslim friends, and despite his classes being a tad bit boring, he was enjoying the uni experience and didn't forget to rub in my face the fact that he could drive. I still had twenty hours left, and Nasr was too busy with his coursework to lend me some time, and Baba had his job so I was stuck taking the bus, something I thought I'd escape, but alas, no.

"Do you miss him?" Yasmine asked, and I snapped from my little reverie to look at her with a blush in my cheeks.

"No..." Who was I kidding? Definitely not Yasmine.

"Oh, come on, there's no shame in saying you do, even I'll admit I miss him," Yasmine smiled wistfully. "I never thought I'd say that, but I miss Damian. Including all his cocky remarks. Uni guys are too nice."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I laughed.

"According to you, it is," Yasmine winked. "What's up with Zaid? Is Clive still keeping him away from you?"

"Yes, thankfully, but I feel a little bad," I stifled a smile, but it eventually won its possession over my lips as I added, "Just kidding. He deserves it for being such an annoying flirt."

"Can you blame him? You're beautiful," Yasmine touched my arm, and I rolled my eyes while she insisted, "No, seriously! Why else would Damian like you?"

"Like me? Ha! As if!" I scoffed.

"Don't be like that, anyone can see it. He totally likes you! And you'd be blind not to see the way he looks at you," Yasmine continued, and with each word my cheeks flamed.

"Well, I haven't seen him since last year, so he doesn't look at me lately," I mumbled, playing with my fingers.

"But when he did...oh, if only someone would look at me like that!" Yasmine exclaimed dramatically, lying back on my bed with a hand over her eyes.

"There's already someone," I poked her as I lay down with her, grinning cheekily. "As much as I hate to admit, my brother has a thing for you."

"I know," Yasmine responded quickly. "You've told me."

"Do you see him often at the campus?" I inquired.

Yasmine sighed, blowing air in my face. "Not as much as I'd like to...but I did see him this one time, but I was late to class, so I couldn't wave or anything." She drooped the corners of her lips down into a frown.

"You can see him soon when he comes home," I suggested. I then grimaced. "Ew, what am I saying? You shall not see him! He will not have the pleasure of laying his eyes on my beautiful friend! I have to hide you and protect your precious face from his sinful gaze!"

Yasmine was in fits of laughter at my impression of the typical Lebanese parent, with the accent and everything. Of course I was joking. After my sister, I was the biggest shipper of Yasr. Who was I to stand in between true love?

***

Damian's POV

God, I missed her.

I never thought I could miss someone so much. What I'd do to see her face again...

At least I had the next best thing – her voice.

"Assalamu Alaykum!" I exclaimed cheerily.

"Wa Alaykum musalam. Wow, you're in a good mood," Mariam remarked.

"Only when I'm speaking to you," I trilled.

"I'm flattered. Anyway, how are you? How's everything? How's life?"

"I miss you," I blurted, before face palming myself. Dude, why the heck did you say that? Now she's gonna think you're weird!

Oh, wait, she already did think I was weird. And I had just made things worse.

"What a shame I can't say the same to you," Mariam teased. "Life's been good without you, Damian Brewer."

"Are you sure about that?" I smirked.

"Absolutely." She didn't sound too sure.

"I hope you're not lying, Mariam Barakat," I scolded mockingly.

"Okay, fine, there may be an inkling of me that misses your annoying self," Mariam admitted, which only made me grin harder.

"I knew it! You can't lie to me, Barakat," I said triumphantly.

"You never answered my question, Brewer," Mariam retorted in her light-hearted way.

"I thought I did when I said I missed you."

There you go again, Damian. You deserve a medal for unsubtlety!

"Oh, so your life revolves around me, huh?" Was it just me, or did Mariam sound a little hesitant under her confident facade? I only had myself to blame for making her feel nervous. I was starting to question whether talking to her on the phone was even appropriate. Sometimes it felt too intimate an action; face-to-face might've been better.

"Well, if it weren't for you, my life would be very different right now, so yeah, I guess you could say a part of it does revolve around you," I replied jokingly.

"You're welcome?" Mariam laughed.

"Have you seen Denise and Theo lately?" I asked, changing the topic.

"No, unfortunately. I bet they're having loads of fun at Latrobe together," Mariam sighed.

"How many times do I have to tell you? No more bets! Gosh, Mariam!" I pretended to sound exasperated, and she laughed that laugh of hers.

"I'm sorry! It's a bad habit of mine, and I only have you to blame," Mariam teased.

"Okay, fair enough," I chuckled. I watched the orange sunset through my window, aware that it was nearing Maghrib time, and I would have to pray soon. I think Maghrib was my favourite prayer, if one was allowed to have a "favourite." It was short and sweet, and the transition from day to night, a time that reminded me of the Day of Judgement the most, because of how we were slowly descending into darkness.

"Is it Maghrib yet?" I asked Mariam.

"Not yet," Mariam replied. "Five minutes to go."

"Good, more time to talk to you," I said, and once again I heard her laugh.

"You sound like Zaid," it seemed like she had just blurted that out unexpectedly, for she suddenly became very silent.

"Do I?" I knew Zaid and Mariam worked at the hospital together, and I knew Zaid personally from the mosque that I went to sometimes, but I didn't know what he "sounded like" when he spoke with Mariam.

"Um, yeah, he says stuff like that..." Mariam sounded uncomfortable. I wondered why...

"When's the last time you saw him?" I asked.

"He's sort of in two of my classes at uni," Mariam answered like it was a shameful secret.

"Really? Why didn't you tell me before?" I didn't know why, but this bothered me. Zaid could see Mariam, and I couldn't? That didn't seem right.

"It's not a big deal," Mariam sounded like she just wanted to move on from this uncomfortable topic, but I pressed on.

"I thought you said you didn't know anyone at your uni? You lied to me!" I gasped dramatically.

"I didn't lie, I just avoided the truth," Mariam claimed.

"Isn't that the same thing?" I forgot how confusing Mariam could be sometimes.

"Maybe..."

"Anyway, what's this about Zaid saying stuff like..." Now I had forgotten what I had said to Mariam to initiate the subject of Zaid.

"Oh, don't worry, he doesn't bother me anymore –"

"Bother you? You mean he bothered you before?" I swear, the next time I saw that guy, I was going to have a long talk with him if he ever thought of bothering Mariam again! Whoa, where did all this sudden anger come from? Calm down, Damian.

"No! Nothing like that! He was just always saying stuff to me..." Mariam trailed off.

"Do you want me to take care of him?" I asked.

"I'm sure his mother can do that," Mariam joked.

"Okay, I'll admit, that was funny," I chuckled. "But seriously, if Zaid does anything –"