The girl bolted upright, her eyes wide with a sudden alarm that quickly softened into a slight, shy smile. Shakira found herself smiling back, though her mind was racing. She is so beautiful, Shakira thought, taking in the girl's features. But what happened to her? How did she slip into the shop without me noticing?
Before the questions could leave Shakira's lips, the girl spoke. "I am so sorry for entering your shop without informing you. I was being chased by people... I don't even know who they were. I sneaked in here while you were busy with your customers. Please, forgive me."
Shakira's compassionate heart immediately took over. "Never mind that. Are you okay? Do you need something to eat?" Without waiting for an answer, Shakira hurried to the shelves to gather some snacks and a bottle of cold water.The girl ate as if her life depended on it.
As Shakira sat nearby, watching over her, the girl's mind was swirling. I have never tasted anything like this, she thought, surprised by the simple, honest flavors. She remembered her nanny's words: "Ordinary people often enjoy life more than the rich." She looked up at Shakira and felt a spark of confusion. This girl is so kind. She helped me without even knowing my name. But then, the voices of her high school friends echoed in her head. They had always looked down on people from places like this, claiming that the poor were nothing but beggars who didn't want to work for themselves. Her friends insisted that "ordinary" people just tried to get money from the rich by playing the pity card and deceiving people to put food on their tables.They don't want to work to earn a living; they just wait for the rich to pass by so they can play the 'pity card' and steal with their eyes.
One friend had even joked that "ordinary people" were all professional actors who used their "misery" to deceive people into giving them free food.
Jannah looked at the simple snack Shakira had given her. Is this what they meant? Is she only feeding me so she can ask for money later? She searched Shakira's face for any sign of greed or a "hidden bill," but all she saw was a girl who looked like she would give away her last piece of bread just to see a stranger smile or is she different?
Jannah knew she had to stay undercover. Aside from wanting to find the truth about the world, she also wanted to find herself. Her family was wealthy enough that she could live ten lifetimes without working, but she felt empty. She wanted to improve as a person, to find a motivation to step up, grow, and actually benefit society. She wanted a purpose.
She couldn't reveal her background; she didn't want to scare Shakira, and she certainly didn't want her overprotective parents or brother to find her yet. She needed to explore this life to see if it was a world of "deceivers" or if her friends had been keeping her from the truth.
Once the snacks were gone, Shakira snapped her fingers gently to get the girl's attention. "What is your name? Where are your parents? And who is chasing you?"
The girl took a deep breath, weaving a story. "My name is Tiifa," she whispered. "My parents are traveling, leaving me with my older brother and his fiancée. I... I can't stand her. She's a pretender. She acts like an angel in front of my brother, but when they are alone, she threatens me. She wants to turn my family against me.
As she spoke, real tears—born from her frustration with her brother and her parents overprotective rules and her own craving for adventure—began to roll down her cheeks.". Shakira, moved by the sight, immediately pulled her into a comforting hug.
"So what will you do now, Tiifa?" Shakira asked softly.
I want to stay away until my parents return in a few weeks, Tiifa whispered. "I can't stay under the same roof as that woman. Please, help me. Don't let them take me!" She gripped Shakira's hand, pleading.
Meanwhile, back at the house, Nana Zaara was pacing the floor. The words of the gossip mongers were like thorns in her mind.
Unable to wait any longer, Nana Zaara hurried toward the shop. When she arrived and pushed open the door, she stopped dead. There was her granddaughter, and beside her was this stranger, whose clothes and manner did not belong to their community at all.