Kapitel 49: Chapter Forty-Nine

Ziza tried to picture an eight-year-old Rafiq in his mini tuxedos and school uniforms, learning the ways of the ballroom. The stereotypical eight-year-old born with a silver spoon in his mouth, greasy hair and impeccable manners Rafiq came to mind. But somehow she could only picture him with a permanent scowl and or a pout as he begrudgingly followed his dance instructor’s instructions. That made her laugh. Out loud.

“It’s good to know that one of my, not so fine moments, brings you merriment.” His little sarcastic joke only further solidified that mental image she had of him.

“I can’t seem to picture anything other than you being completely miserable during those times.”

“That is because I actually, absolutely hated it. I always made sure to ‘point it out’ to the instructor. That was the reason I always had a new one every week.” They laughed together this time.