A/N that moment when you realise that there's a chapter you somehow forgot to post two months ago... sorreeeeeeeee!
LAYLAH
Laylah enjoyed the spring, when for a short while the weather was neither too hot nor too cold. Everyone was always much more cheerful when the sun started to shine and the snow retreated to distant mountains. It was easier to slip away, to avoid chores, to hide in a forgotten corner on the other side of the crumbling brick wall of the compound and pretend she was just a normal girl who would go back to her family once she had finished her book.
She was careful to always return the books she borrowed. Sometimes she would find a Quran placed with tender care on a shelf few of the girls were tall enough to reach. At other times she would spot a worn paperback discarded by a volunteer. Books were like promises. Her father had shown her how to sound out letters, and had been so proud when she had learned how to write her name. Sometimes she would scratch it in the dust with a finger, just to prove to herself that she remembered, but no matter which books she found and took to her private reading place, she had yet to find one she could read. Father had wanted her to be able to read and write, but that was Before. By the time she had reached the orphanage, no one had thought to make up for all the time she had lost. It was a waste, they said, to try and teach a girl of her age to read and write. It was too late. She had missed her chance.
Still, the book was comforting. The new girl, Ziva, had left it behind, and this was one book Laylah would never have to return. It had appeared mysteriously on her pillow after Ziva had gone away, and while Laylah had been suspicious, she could not resist the idea of a book that was hers alone.
To her dismay, she had found that she missed Ziva. Her eyes had stayed kind until the very end of her three months. Laylah had never learned to trust her, but she had grown used to her tender manner. Ziva's presence had become comforting, and now she was gone Laylah wished she would come back.
No one ever came back, though. So Laylah was completely unprepared, in late May, to see a familiar figure walking towards the gate. From her hidden spot, she looked harder, squinted against the bright sunlight, expecting to realise her eyes had deceived her.
But they hadn't. Ziva was back.