A Unique Girl

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Another romance story from my heart

Submitted: August 13, 2013

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Submitted: August 13, 2013

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A Unique Girl

By Faisal Fransu

 

 

If you were to examine all the faces that were in the cafeteria of Learninghouse high school, you would see that the saddest of them was a grade twelve student named Jamil Habib. Most of his sadness had to do with girls. Unfortunately, people forsook him when he needed them the most.

But the day which we speak of was a different one for Jamil. As he was singing an Arabic sad song in his head, someone came and sat across from him.

“Hi Jamil, my name is Murra,” the young lady began.

“Nice to meet you too,” he replied, but in his heart he didn’t like her. She wasn’t pretty according to his definition of prettiness, which was based on her voice.

The girl kept sitting with him every day, but he did not care about her. He only answered her questions. She even added him on Facebook and messaged him every day. But his heart was with another girl who did not even care about him.

“Are you in love with Murra?” one of his classmates asked Jamil one day.

“Nope,” he answered.

“Well she’s not pretty anyway,” remarked the first speaker. “I think she’s the ugliest girl in the whole world.”

“Just because I’m not in love with her doesn’t mean that you can insult her,” replied Jamil angrily. “Are you any better than her? How often do you talk to me? At least she cares about me and talks to me every day!”

When Murra heard about this conversation she said in her heart, “So he does care for me a little. Well I’ll try very hard to win his love. If he only knew the truth about me, he would love me with all his heart. But I must wait.”

One day she said to him, “Why don’t you care about me the way I care about you?”

“Well I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” he replied with hesitation. “But I’m in love with another girl.” But he did not mention the second reason, which was the fact that she wasn’t pretty.

“You love a girl who hates you but reject the girl who loves you!” she replied in a grieving tone.

Jamil knew that she was right but did not answer.

“Well I love you whether you like it or not,” she told him resolutely. “And I’ll keep on loving you.”

When the school year was over, Jamil was filled with sadness for a couple of reasons. Firstly, he wouldn’t be able to see any of his friends for two months, because his parents did not like to let him go out and associate with people. Secondly, the girl that he loved still did not care about him.

Nevertheless, Murra kept messaging him on Facebook, which made him less bored. He even resolved to be friendly to her, because she was the only person from school who talked to him all summer.

On the first day of school in September, the first person to meet Jamil in the hallway was Murra.

“I know I’m a little late,” she remarked in a cheerful tone, “But happy birthday!”

Then she gave him a bracelet. Because he wasn’t sure how to put it on, she helped him.

“How can I thank you?” he said with emotion.

She gave him a hug and left. His heart was softened a little. He tried many times to make other girls to like him, but now a girl was trying to soften his heart.

Jamil kept thinking about Murra all morning. His brain kept reminding him that he used to wish that a girl would love him; and now that his wish has come true, he’s rejecting the girl. His heart, on the other hand, was saying, “I can never love her! She’s not pretty at all!”

At last, Jamil ended the internal struggle. He decided to listen to his brain.

“She may not be pretty,” he thought, “But she certainly loves me. Isn’t that all I need? How fool I was to have rejected her!”

As he was going to the second period class, someone asked, “Who gave you that bracelet?”

“Murra,” he answered proudly.

“Do you love her?” the questioner whispered.

“I’m starting to,” Jamil whispered back.

At lunch, Murra came and sat across from him. She was wondering how he felt about her gift.

“Won’t you sit beside me please?” he said, smiling.

As she was making herself comfortable beside him, she was too full to speak.

“I have a little confession to make,” he began. “Well you’ve been very kind to me for all these months. But I couldn’t even accept you as a friend, because I thought that you weren’t pretty. Well, as you already know, if we listen to our heart, we’ll do things based on our emotions. But if we listen to our brain, we’ll act based on logic, and on what’s right and wrong. For all these months I’ve been listening to my heart. Today, however, after you gave me that beautiful bracelet, my brain spoke louder than my heart. So I’ve decided to love you because you love me. Isn’t that what I’ve been wanting for years? Yes, I wanted a girl to love me, and here you are!”

Even while he was yet still speaking her eyes filled with tears. When he was done talking, she put her arms around him and her head on his shoulder. “Thank God!” she sobbed.

As his love was increasing for her, he discovered that she was actually getting pretty! So he said to her one day, “You seem to be getting pretty. What’s going on?”

So she made the following confession to him: “I’m going to tell you a story that you may not believe. Well on the day that I was born, my mother had a mysterious dream. She heard a voice say, ‘Your child will be a unique one. She shall not look pretty at all. However, whenever someone decides to accept her as she is, she shall be transformed into a pretty girl. In other words, she will look pretty to only those who love her.’ So at first, I wasn’t pretty to you because you hadn’t accepted me as I am. But now that you love me, I will be pretty to you. Finally, because I look pretty to some people and ugly to others, I have two names. Those who don’t accept me as I am should call me ‘Murra,’ which means ‘bitter’ in Arabic. But those who accept me as I am should call me Angelica.”

The more Jamil loved her the more beautiful she became. She made him promise that he would never tell her secret to anyone, because she wanted people to like her on their own.


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