Deceived; Chapter 38.1

"Ghaneya!"

"Ghaneya, where are you?!"

I was trying to figure out who's voice does that belong to?

I was on my bed, staring at the frameless wall in front of me.

I was dull-looking.

After Fouad's words were directed to me, I was too scared to even make eye contact with him right after he created such a threat.

"Ghaneya" I heard the voice again, but this time, louder. It was approaching the narrow hallway beside my bedroom.

"Ghaneya?" I heard with a knock.

I was too dug into my thoughts in which I didn't want to waste a second of my concentration.

The footsteps appeared closer and closer.

The figure entered my room, officially.

Turning around was something I wasn't bothered to do.

My body ached. I felt hopeless.

A moment later, a figure blocked my view of the frameless wall, and all I could see was beige shorts topped with an Abercrombie & Fitch blue t-shirt.

He came back.

Fahad's finally back.

-

"So, how's it going with school, Ghaneya?" spoke Fahad as he leaned across the table to grab the salt sitting by the pepper beside the edge of the table.

We were having our usual Friday breakfast.

My appetite was suddenly smaller. I wasn't interested in consuming, anyways.

 I took a while to reply, instead, I was relocating the big chunks of the untouched cut omelet within my plate.

"Not bad, my grades are better than last year.."

As Fahad's mouth shaped itself to let me know that he's going to speak, his phone rang at the same time.

His facial expressions twisted into joy as he checked the caller ID.

"Zeyad!" I heard him speak through his telephone.

"Yeah it's fine, sure, hey, stop by today!"he added.

He was so happy, for some reason.

Who's Zeyad?

-

"Fahad! How's it going?" I heard from down the stairs. I could also hear the loud back slaps boys give each other.

I was too curious to know who he was, so there I was, with messy hair and wacky clothes, walking down the stairs, I peeked through the chilling area, and spotted the boy my brother was so happy about.

He was spotted with a black leather jacket, some blue jeans, and he paired it on with loafers.

The world has the fewest men with sense of style.

He was an average-looking guy, my brother's age. I noticed his tendency to laugh about five times in ten minutes.

On the third hour of Zeyad's stay, Fahad called me in, apparently.

"Hi, Ghaneya, how are you?" said Zeyad.

"Hi" I replied with my head down.

"This is my friend, Zeyad Talal Al-*****" Fahad interrupted.

Talal

Talal

Talal

Fouad?

Could it?

It can't!

At that moment, I suddenly began thinking whether Fahad did or did not find out yet about my recent past.

Why hasn't he said something to me, yet?

Why is he acting so normal and ordinary?

Fahad is usually the first boy who finds out about all sorts of my problems.

"Do you happen to know my sister?" asked Zeyad.

"Who's your sister?" I wondered and said.

"Rania" he replied, "I have a twin, too.."

Rania's brother is here, in my house.

Awkward.

"But the real reason" continued Zeyad, "why I visited your brother is to talk to you about someone in my family..."

"Before you begin, I know nothing about what has happened to Rania!" I spoke assuring them.

"Oh, well who said it was about Rania?" he proudly said, "It's about my father, Talal Al-*****"

I knew it.