Habondia stood behind the heavy wooden door leading to the rooftop, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum in the silence of the night. The cool breeze whispered through the cracks, carrying with it the scent of distant rain and the faint rustling of leaves. Her eyes, already red from sleepless nights, glistened with unshed tears as she listened intently to Naamaah's somber story.
Naamaah's voice trembled as she spoke to the children, a soft smile playing on her lips to hide the pain in her eyes. "You better go to sleep," she said gently. The children left, their laughter fading into the night, leaving behind a heavy silence.
As Habondia watched, Naamaah reached for a blue handkerchief that Aanisa had given her, using it to dab at the tears that streaked her cheeks. With a deep breath, Naamaah stood, her movements graceful yet burdened with invisible weight. "I hope you haven’t heard much; I do not want you to feel sorry for me.”
“What are you talking about?” Habondia frowned. “I care for you, you’re like a sister to me.”
“What brings you here? Little Bondy," Naamaah smirked, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere.
Habondia shifted on her feet, her hands trembling as she held out a stack of papers to Naamaah. "I have the day off from school. I wanted you to read this paper. You studied English philology; maybe you can interpret this better than I do," she explained.
Naamaah took the paper, her brow furrowing in concentration as she skimmed through Habondia's notes and compared them to the translated book.
"What you told the kids. Was it true?" Habondia asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and concern.
Naamaah shook her head, her gaze focused on the paper. "Everything was true. I would never lie to my children," Naamaah replied softly. "We all have secrets that can only be revealed in due time. Secrets that mark us for life, things that we want to change, but that we don't have the power to fix."
Habondia placed a gentle hand on Naamaah's shoulder, offering silent comfort before speaking again. "Sometimes I think that everything I do won't please me. Sometimes I believe that a force outside me does the things I do; that is why I seek power. To know what it is that I want and to achieve a goal to live for," Habondia confessed, her words raw and vulnerable.
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Naamaah chuckled softly, a sad smile playing on her lips. "Will you not tell me what you will do when they come into the world? Even Abeona said what she wanted when she joined us," Naamaah prodded gently, her eyes searching Habondia's face for answers.
"I'm sorry," Habondia murmured, her voice barely audible as she struggled with her inner thoughts.
"Abeona wants death. And you already know what I want," Naamaah said cryptically, her gaze lingering on Habondia with a mix of understanding and concern.
Habondia bit her lip, her eyes filled with unspoken words and hidden fears. "I'll tell you when the time comes," she said.
"Secrets have a way of shaping us, of guiding us on paths we never thought possible. But remember, Habondia, the power lies within you to change your fate, to forge a new path for yourself," she said, her voice soft yet filled with conviction.
As the clock struck nine, Naamaah finally looked up, her eyes meeting Habondia's with unspoken understanding. Her laughter filled the air, a bittersweet sound that echoed in the stillness of the night.
"As you believe, this story is flawed. The tale in the book was edited after it was already written or so it seems to me. The foreign traveler should not be in the original story; good job!" she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Don't 'good job' me; you should meet Sophie and tell her that," Habondia retorted, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Naamaah chuckled, the sound like music in the quiet night. She ran a hand through her hair, her eyes twinkling with mischief as stood up.
“We better get inside,” Naamaah smiled. “I rather do this on a chair with a table and good lighting.”
Once inside the library, Habondia and Naamaah sat across from each other at a desk, the papers spread out between them like a map of uncharted territories with the soft glow of a lantern above. Habondia leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Naamaah as she spoke.
"You've translated twelve stories, fifteen poems. There were some small errors, but you have done a good job! Everything seems normal except the story with the foreign traveler," Naamaah remarked, her voice filled with a mix of praise and curiosity.
Habondia furrowed her brow, a thoughtful expression on her face as she processed Naamaah's words. "What else did you find?" she asked, her fingers absently scratching her chin in contemplation.
"This will take a while, but let's read the story to see what we can find," she suggested, flipping through the pages until she found the story in question.