Like Dandelion Seeds: A MFP Short Story of Forgiveness

By S. H. Miah

Aisha's in the dumps. Her friend, Yasmin, is ghosting her. And Aisha has no idea why.

 

As Aisha discovers the truth of her own actions, Yasmin harbours a secret of her own. A secret Aisha could've never seen coming.

 

Can Aisha ever get her best friend back?

 

A story of forgiveness in the face of battling the ego.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Muslim Fiction Project
• Release date: Mar 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215849248

Book preview

Like Dandelion Seeds

A MFP Short Story of Forgiveness

S. H. Miah

image-placeholder

Muslim Fiction Project

Copyright © 2023 by S. H. Miah

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Contents

Like Dandelion Seeds

Muslim Fiction Project

About S. H. MIAH

Like Dandelion Seeds

A MFP Short Story

Aisha stared up at the dark sky with its array of glittering stars, some covered by circling, black clouds. The wind ruffled her hair over her eyes, and Aisha made no attempt to pull the strands back.

The wooden balcony she stood in overlooked the park before her house, with its swings and charm that Aisha remembered from her childhood. The place where she’d first met Yasmin. The dark grass fluttered in the harsh, cold breeze, and a shiver caused Aisha's body to tremor. The tears had dried by now into crusty tracks across Aisha's cheeks. She touched one of those tracks, felt the roughness of her face, and another hot tear trickled down to her chin.

She'd done nothing wrong. At least, in her mind she hadn’t. The look on Yasmin’s face was still etched into her mind, the image as sharp as henna on a canvas.

Aisha wiped her hand on the salwar she wore, her usual dress at home. She finally brushed the hair from her eyes and gazed down at the street below. Groups of gangsters gathered at the edge of the road like they always did, smoking one cigarette between them. How come they managed to get friendship? The cognitive dissonance ate into Aisha’s skin like one of