The soft breeze of the early morning slipped down its feather on the subtle face of Hayfah Talhah Muhammad. She squirmed on the bed and looked around, somewhere within her soul_she was praying that what happened yesterday wasn't a dream.
She squinted her eyes and her gaze fell on a sleeping Amna that had Mysha placed carefully to her chest. She could remember Mysha crying yesterday at night, and Amna took her from her until the little baby slept off.
Still laying on the bed, the duvet brought up to her chest; she traced down her finger through the threads of her life. How she started as a lonely and broken little girl that knew nothing in her life but pain. A girl whose mother lived all her life in sheer melancholy; and now, she could boldly call herself a happy woman.
She could vividly
