"Why is that when something goes wrong, some people resort to cutting their hair short or getting a different hairstyle? I never understood that concept," Anisa rambled, trying to get me to open up to her. I was painting, and her constant yapping ruined the peace and quiet that is now a distant feeling.

"Maybe it symbolizes something to them, like change," I unintentionally say and continue with my work.

"Well they are other ways to do so..." I cut her off and spoke:

"It could be they want to see the change whenever they look into the mirror and the only way to do is by changing their appearances."

"Why are you going to Milan? They are Fine Art institutes here you know."

"You could have just led with that," I replied.

"I know you'll miss me, I am sure I will. Maybe I'll be your inspiration for your next art piece," she spoke. My eyes still fixated on the canvas.

"I doubt your yapping will inspire my art. But you are right I will definitely miss you," I glanced at her and said.

"You know. I always thought you and Naveed would be..." My heart skipped at the thought of him.

"Don't say it," I cut her off, before she could finish.

"Maybe," she utters lowly.

"Don't Anisa," I put my paint brush back in the cup of water and look at her. "Don't speak about your fabricated fantasy. I don't need that."

"Okay I apologize." She says.

"Okay." I said and turned back to my canvas to continue painting.

"Does that means you won't be there for my wedding?" She asked.

"I will not miss it and I will be here and support you every step of the way. I promise," I said.

"Okay," She replied, sounding not so convinced.

"I'll be here Anisa from the beginning. Don't worry."

"I just wanted to make new memories with you," She said.

"I do too. You can come visit me, you know and I'll come back home for the holidays. It will work out in sha allah," I told her.

"In sha allah," she said.

"How about today I make dinner and the four of us can have dinner together," She suggested and stood up from the stool.

"Yah Anisa. Can I finish my painting?" I replied hastily. I just wanted to go back to painting.

...

It's now 6:25 pm, I checked my watch. Anisa told me to be ready by 7:00, ugh she's going to talk me into death. I mean I feel like she could, her lectures are very lengthy and she doesn't get tired.

I rushed to my bedroom, took a shower and changed into a dress - appropriate for a dinner. A black and white, stripped cotton dress with long sleeves and at ankle length. I did a turban with a black scarf and put on jewelry to complete the look. Chic and modest. I put on my heels, 3 inch heels. I looked myself in the mirror and then put on lipgloss. I smiled and walked away.

Going down the stairs I realized how quiet it is, no noise came from any room or place around the house. However the back door to the garden was halfway open, the door isn't left open usually, always shut. So I walked over to the door and as I was closing it, I heard a distant laughter. I opened the door and the tall, sizable whit tent caught my eye. When was this placed? I kept on questioning myself. I walked down the stairs slowly still in awe of the tent. I saw my father sitting, around a round table and Imad and Anisa talking on the side of the tent.

They saw me and smiled immediately, a welcoming smile, one that read I am glad you are here.

"What's all this?" I finally ask, as I approached them.

"Your farewell dinner," Imad replied.

"This was unnecessary," I commented.

"Father thought otherwise." Anisa said and pulled my arm, towards the inside of the tent.

We all sat down, around the round table. Our meals already prepared and on the table, waiting for us to feast on. I couldn't help but appreciate them, my family. I have been wanting for us to be together for so long and this time we actually are. Yet I am leaving, I feel a bit selfish. But I know staying here, isn't what I am ought to do.

We started eating, once we set out the food on our plates. Anisa made all my favorites meals: Alfredo pasta, hummus with breadsticks and samosas. The salad was there, but I wouldn't count it as my favorite more like a side for the pasta.

"Amal I don't how to say this, I might sound selfish... I can't help but think of how much I'll miss you so much once you leave. I have already lost four years..." My father spoke and placed his fork on the plate.

"It's okay Baba, I'll miss you more. I am not going forever just so you know. I'll come back and we will reclaim those four years," I tried to reassure him.

"In sha allah," he replied in a low tone.

"It's hard for me too. To leave all of you again, this time willingly, but I promise it's only temporary. I need to find my own thing and be my own person," I said almost in tears. "But like a boomerang I'll always come back."

"You are so corny." Anisa said, and put her hand on my shoulder, pulling me in for a side hug.

"She gets it from me," My father said proudly. We all laughed and continued eating. It's moments like this I'll miss the most, the moments where we are all together as a family and not defined by our loses but what we have overcome. I'd like it to be like this, I'd like us to make more new memories for as long as we are alive, because we don't know how much time we have left. Regardless of all what I feel and think, I need to go. Because putting my aspirations on hold won't do my family or me any good because it will simply feel me with regret and resentment... Of what could have been.