YA ABIN YAKE

About this Novel

It was as if she had become accustomed to rousing her daughter every morning, and today was no different. Her heart was heavy as she gently prodded her daughter, Hamda, who had barely opened her eyes. The young girl's body radiated heat, yet she didn't flinch or budge at her mother's touch. Struggling to open her eyes, the pain etched across Hamda's face seemed to reflect the magnitude of her suffering. Each day started the same for her, where Ammin would awaken at dawn, her demeanor as cold as the early morning frost. Hamda often questioned whether Ammin was truly her sister, for the frigidity that Ammin showed her, even if only in the slightest way, was enough to make her ponder. Tears streamed down Hamda's face, the pain of her sister's aloofness piercing her heart repeatedly. Her body throbbed, and she could hardly sit up on the hard boarding school mattress that served as her bed. Pressing her hands against her throbbing forehead, she implored, "Ammi, I have a terrible headache today. I don't think I can manage anything." Ammin's response was unsympathetic, her voice tinged with frustration. "My dear, you've grown accustomed to working despite the pain in your body.