CHAPTER 1

Gloomy. That is my first impression of Gotham. There is not much color in this city. Mostly different shades of grey. I have no idea why I decided to move to Gotham four months ago. After living together with my parents for 24 years since I was born, I suddenly decided to be 'independent'. I was determined to move out of Metropolis. To find a job. To open a business. I always wanted to open a bakery. It is time to fulfil my dream.

Three years ago, I quit working in a bank.

"Bitch! You are fired!"

"You don't have to! Because I-I quit! I work here as a clerk! Not a hooker! But you just can't keep y-your hands to yourself!"

"Don't raise your voice on me!"

"Well, how about I give you another purple eye! B-BASTARD!"

So, that is how I quit. I mean, when your manager keeps on groping you whenever he's near. I just had it. A good looking face doesn't guarantee a good heart. Other staffs don't even help me. I was so disappointed. I have fellow Muslim staffs there that don't even look at me. They don't even ask how I am holding up. And I can't even sue that bastard because he's rich. I bet he will pay everyone. And making up stories to save his ass. I will lose in court. So why bother?

I had a hard time after the episode in the bank so I just decided to help Mother. Mother is tall, maybe almost 6 feet, unlike me. I'm a midget. She is a bit on the round side. She has soft brown eyes and plump lips. Orange is her favourite color. Most of Mother's headscarves are orange. When we go window shopping, I had to talk to her into not buying another set of orange headscarf. She is soft-spoken but mischievous. She has a gentle voice and when she is angry she also used that gentle voice. Isn't it scary when someone is angry but doesn't look angry? She looks like she can kill someone with an angelic smile on her face. When at school, I was treated unfairly by a teacher because of our religion. The teacher would give me lower marks and he always harsh when talking to me. Mother went to meet the teacher and principal. I was waiting outside of office but when I saw Mother talking to the teacher, his face becoming uncomfortable. I don't know what Mother told him. I hope the teacher won't get fired. He has a family. After the meeting, the teacher went to me and apologized. After that, he taught in other class. At least, he is not terminated.

But Mother was never angry at me. Every time I make trouble during puberty, she would look so sad and it made me felt guilty. I tried to talk to her every time I had problems at school. She listened. She didn't judge me. She never forces me into anything. Even wearing a headscarf is my own choice. Now we are best friends. She has a humble facial spa at our house. Even though it is just a small business, but we never had zero customer every day. Though I only do some quick massage for the customers. And I can't do the facial treatments. You have to have a soft hand movement for that. My hands are too rigid. I worked with her for three good years.

Father works in a furniture store. I feel bad at him all the time. He is in his late fifties but he still carries heavy cabinets and sofa. He always comes home with sore muscles. Father is rigid and strict. But he always smiles for me and think that I am always a princess to him. He still calls me princess and kiss me goodnight when I was still living with them. Sometimes, he told me funny moments during work as bedtime stories. He always gets annoyed when I asked if his workplace has any attractive young male staffs. Once, I insisted on visiting his workplace. He was happy to see me but basically glaring at all the male co-workers. It was funny. Father is lanky, which is why I wanted him to quit the furniture store. He is a few inch taller than Mother. His hair is all gray now and his beard as well. He has a set of gorgeous blue eyes. He had a tattoo on his left shoulder. He got it when he was young, before he converted to Islam. The tattoo is a picture of a rose. It was beautiful. When I was still a kid, I would stroke at it.

I am happy to have parents like mine. I was protected by them. As their only daughter, I want to make them happy. I don't want to make them kept on worrying about me. I want my parents to retire from work and go on vacations. So I decided to move to a different city, away from my parents so I won't depend on them. Gotham. Father was upset, like he did when I had to live in college dorm. But I wanted to start my own live and I want them to spend time with each other. Sometimes I feel like I was a third wheel. They are too lovey dovey. I was very uncomfortable witnessing those too sweet moments, which they promised me that they would toned it down. Now that I am moved from home, they have the house for themselves, I might be expecting new sibling. New baby brother would do.


Around a week after I moved to Gotham, I got a job in an Indian Restaurant called Saachi's Favourite. It was a small family business owned by a very happy go lucky Muhammad Aryan. It was a cute tiny halal restaurant. The dining place has 8 tables, an office room, and a kitchen. My boss, Aryan, is a sweet shy man. He is short and stout. He is about my height. Five foot four. He has thick Indian accent, which sounds adorable to me. His dark brown eyes always crinkle with a smile, every time he greeted me. He accepted me right away, because his daughter will be away for studying abroad in London. And he really needs a helping hand. On papers, the restaurant was owned by him but in reality his wife is the law here. Saachi is very strict and blunt. Yes, the name of the restaurant is from her name. Because Aryan really loves his wife, even though she is basically a lion. Saachi is a slender gorgeous woman. She always took cares of her youthful looks. High cheek bones with deep dark brown eyes that make you know who's the boss. She is kind if you follow her rules. I quickly get into her good side after I gave her a shoulder massage on my first day of work. "You have dangerous hands, my dear. That's a talent," she said. I utterly confused. Never knew that a good massager can be dangerous.

"Saachi, two sets of Chicken filled Chapati please. The sweet spicy ones," I requested over the counter, so that I can prepare the drinks for the customers. Saachi was checking the stock of plastic bags under the counter.

"Sarah. There were 7 packets of the small plastic bag last night before we close. Where are 2 of them? I check in the system that there are no take-outs today." Oh no. You don't want to have a bad mood Saachi.

"Yeah. There are no take-outs today. I was cleaning under the counter this morning. I might misplace them. I'll check on them later. Can you please tell Aryan about the orders?" I told her, lying through my teeth. I know where the other 2 packets go. Aryan has a tendency to use the company's plastic bags to give remaining cooked food to the homeless without telling his wife.

It was not a huge issue but Saachi is… well… you need to tell her everything happened inside the restaurant. She huffed an annoyed okay and went inside the kitchen. I need to tell Aryan later to replace the plastic bags before all Hell break lose.

One of the things I love about working here is the working hour. 9am until 8pm but the Restaurant closes from 2pm to 4pm for break. We took the time to pray and to do preparations for evening time. Oh, I had told Aryan about the plastic bags as well. He instantly ran out of the restaurant with his wallet to buy some plastic bags. Funny guy. In the restaurant, the staffs are only me, Aryan, Saachi and Arjun, their 18-year-old nephew. Arjun is a sweet talker and a flirt. Thank God, he isn't a pervert. He was tall and has wavy hair. He took great pride on his hair. His hair looks like they are from a shampoo commercial. First time he saw me, he smiles like he meet his idol or something.

"You don't always get to meet a Muslim lady in Gotham and you are not Indian. What are you? I like your headscarf by the way" he remarked. We are sitting at on the floor in the resting room near the kitchen. It was previously the office but Aryan removed all furniture (except a few lockers for the staffs) and placed a huge carpet. No shoes on the carpet, because it is what we used as a praying mat. Arjun was staring at me but he keeps a distance. Good manners.

"Um… is where I-I came from important?" I can't even look at him in the eyes. I popped a breath mint in my mouth. I motioned the candy box to him but he refused by shaking his head. I ignored the compliment. Awkward Sarah alert.

"Just curious. You've been working here for two weeks. And we never have a chat." He shrugged.

"Well… I was born in the Metropolis. A-and mother told me that I'm a mix of Malay, Chinese and Caucasion. Though I didn't get the DNA from father's s-side…" I said, smiling sheepishly.

"That's nice to know. Well, I was born in India but raised here. I'm thinking of inheriting this restaurant since Ana did not want to take the business," Ana is Aryan and Saachi's daughter. He leaned in a bit. "See! It's good to have a chat once in a while. Oh look at the time. Almost Asr. It's my turn to be the Imaam this time."

I looked at the time in my phone and stand up to perform my ablution. I stopped my tracks when Arjun said something I didn't expect.

"Or I can be your Imaam for the rest of your life" he snickered. I quickly turned my head towards him and he winked at me. I blushed. "Just kidding. I have someone already. Just trying to tease you a bit. You look like you don't interact much with people."

I just stared at him until he disappeared at the corner. What the Hell! My mind screamed. It was not funny. I almost throw my phone to his head. I sighed. I have to get used to this. I will eventually experience flirting men. He doesn't seem to be a bad person. Just a meanie.

That was my first impression of him, months ago. And still is.


It's Friday. And we close today. Peaceful day. I decided to spend some time outside. Maybe a walk at Robinson Park. I've been here for 4 months but I didn't really get to look around the town. I put on a black blouse and a light blue long skirt with leggings underneath. I'm feeling a bit fancy today so I wore floral print headscarf. At work I usually wear either a black or gray color ones. I wear my beige colored trench coat and then I went out of my apartment.

"Morning, missy," the landlady, Mrs Weller chided. She is a fifty-old woman and had been renting out the apartment for 15 years. A retired soldier. She's a brusque and sharp woman. Late rental payment and she will kick you out of the building the same day. Actually, more like she pointed her rifle on the head. You either pay the rent or become homeless.

"G-good morning, Mrs Weller," I squeaked, showing a closed smile. "I am t-talking a walk today."

"Don't come home late. Many creeps here," She grunted.

"Yeah… t-thank you. See you later. I think. Bye," I walked quickly out of the building. Sarah, you should be friendlier to your landlady.

I didn't see where I was going and accidentally bumped into someone. A little girl actually. I almost swallowed my breath mint.

"Hey! Look at where you're going!" she hollered.

"I'm sorry! Are you a-alright?" I blurted, crouching down to her level and trying to look for any injuries.

She ignored me and walked away, pushing her trolley. She looked disheveled. Her ginger hair is all over the place. And she is wearing a very dirty outfit. Does she have any guardian?

A small pot of plant fell from her trolley and rolled to my shoes. I picked it up.

"E-excuse me. You dropped this." I called, as I observed the pot. "I hope nothing is damaged," I try to touch the leaves.

"NO! Don't touch it!" She snatched the pot away from me and grabbed my fingers to inspect them. I swore I saw her sigh in relief. She raised an eyebrow at me.

"20 bucks," she smugly said.

"Huh?" I was astounded. I wondered where she got her sassiness from.

"20 bucks," she repeated.

"Okay." I took out my wallet and then I stopped myself. "W-wait the second. Why?"

"20 bucks. Or I will scream that you hurt me."

"But I didn't-"

"3… 2…"

"H-here! Take it," I blurted. She smiled a little and took the cash from me. And then she gazed at me with an apathetic expression and just walked away. With no thank you or whatsoever. That nerves. It's like she knows that I'll obey her. Next time I see her, I'll ask for her name and give her lectures.

"You shouldn't have given her the money," well, he sounds British. I turned around to the voice. Before me, stood a middle age man and a callous young boy. Both of them dressed classy, what are they doing in this part of the town?

"It's okay," I uneasily smiled at them. "T-thank you for your concern."

"Just a few seconds before you ran into her, we gave her 20 dollars,"

"Did she threaten you too?" I gawked.

"Ivy's nice. She j-just wants to survive. Like all the other kids on the streets." The boy remarked. So that's her name. I looked at the boy. He looked sad and lost.

"Surviving is good, but t-that was my lunch money," I mumbled the latter part.

"Alfred?" the boy said.

"I am not a charity, Master B," sassed Alfred. He took out 20 dollars from his wallet and hand them to me.

"No. I-I cannot accept that," I rejected. It was a kind gesture, but I don't think it's right to take it. There are more unfortunate people in the streets.

"She is m-my friend. Let me make up for her. I insist," the boy grasped the money from the man's hand and tried to give them to me.

"N-no. Please. I have to go. Really. Appreciate your kindness. May God bless you," I did what I am good at. Ran away.