Marid seemed to be overwhelmingly satisfied with himself when he began to notice the ever present rift between me and Amir. So much so, that he began to make comments about it. I knew Marid was only trying to fuel the fire when passing me hateful notes asking if Amir and I were having a lovers quarrel to moments when he'd whisper mind numbing ideas of Amir only befriending me to tempt me into Westernization. I knew the concept was ludicrous, but time alone with your thoughts gives you time to think. Far too much time to think.

    My pre-existing anger towards Amir swirled in the pits of my subconscious and danced with the anger that was rooted deeply within my heritage, and I could feel myself completely consumed with blind rage. When Amir made an effort to speak to me for the first time in months, my stomach twisted into knots and anger deafened my senses. I can't remember much besides the result--my fist ensconced within one of Amir's palms, his blue eyes stormy with regret and disappointment. I remember feeling suffocated at the sight. Without a word, Amir released my hand and walked away, allowing for my eyes to focus on Marid, who conveniently happened to watch the whole ordeal.