Hours passed. Ibrahim, sitting beside Ava, also immersed himself in a book. However, after a while, he noticed Ava's intense focus. Her brows were furrowed, and she absentmindedly nibbled on her pen.
Breaking the silence, Ibrahim inquired, "Finding something difficult, Baby Girl?"
Ava was startled by his question. She glanced towards him, "Yes, there's something I can't quite understand."
Ibrahim took the book from her hands, inquiring, "Which term is giving you a hard time?"
Ava pointed to a particular archeological term, "Stratigraphy". And Ibrahim nodded read the portion silently.
After reading it, he mused, "Let's break it down."
He leaned over the desk and began to say, "Imagine you're peeling back layers of history, much like peeling an onion. Each layer tells a story, a chapter in the book of time. This is what we call stratigraphy – the study of rock layers and the sequence of events they reveal."
Ava told, "I can't understand. You told the same as it's written on the book."
"Think of the earth as a historical document. Each layer represents a different time period. The deeper you go, the further back in time you travel. It's like reading the Earth's autobiography." Ibrahim tried for a different approach.
"So, each layer has its own story?" she inquired.
"Exactly," Ibrahim affirmed, "The artifacts and remains found in each layer provide clues about the people who lived during that time. It's like putting together a puzzle – the more pieces we have, the clearer the picture becomes."
In this moment of shared learning, Ava noticed their faces were two closed. She leaned back on her chair, creating a distance.
"So, it's like reading the Earth's history through its layers," Ava concluded.
Ibrahim nodded, "Precisely. It's a journey through time, and each layer adds a new dimension to the narrative."
Ava nodded, "Ibrahim, you explain these things better than my professors. I'm genuinely surprised."
"Well, Ava, I am exceptionally smart and intelligent and even handsome. It's a rare combination." Ibrahim replied with a smile.
Rolling her eyes at his overconfidence, Ava chuckled, "You can be a little bit of handsome. But you're not as smart as you think, Mr. Rahman."
"Yet, here you are, learning from me instead of your professors." Ibrahim added.
Ava ignored his comments, dismissing his boast. Her attention shifted to the rain-kissed window, "It's still raining."
Ava Rose from the chair and went towards the window. Ibrahim saw her sudden movement. Ava slid the window open, inviting a breath of fresh air into the room. Rain droplets gently kissed her skin as she inhaled deeply.
Observing her, Ibrahim also stood and joined her by leaning against the wall. He gently removed the hair clip from Ava's hair.
She turned, surprised by the gesture, "Why did you do that?"
Ibrahim simply said, "Let your long hair flow. It looks more beautiful this way."
The breeze played with her loose locks and Ibrahim couldn't help but admire the way her hair danced in the wind.
"Why do you like my long hair so much?" Ava asked.
Ibrahim's eyes were fixed on her hair, "Your hair is like a source of peace for me. Its black color acts as a magnet, always drawing me closer to you. The waves, the locks – they all have a story, and I appreciate every detail. And the baby hair on your forehead adds a touch of innocence to you. I'm simply an admirer lost in your hair's allure."
He continued, "It's like, your hair tells a tale of its own, and each strand is a chapter. The way it falls down is like a waterfall and I find myself lost in its beauty."
Ava felt he wasn't talking, he was telling a poetry. Her cheeks slightly blushed and she looked outside the window. The rain outside continued its gentle melody.
"Why are you looking at the rain like that? Do you like it?" Ibrahim inquired.
Ava's thoughts drifted into the past, "I do like the rain, but it carries memories, not all of them pleasant."
"What kind of memories?" Ibrahim asked again.
Taking a deep breath, Ava began, "I was only ten when it happened. It was a rainy evening. We were in the car, my family—my parents, my brother Elara, and me."
"My dad was driving," Ava continued, "We were coming back from a family gathering. Elara and me were sitting on backseat. Mom was in the front beside Dad. The rain was pouring. Dad was driving and he loved the rain; he said it was nature's way of cleansing the world. The roads were slippery that day. But, dad didn't know that evening would bring a different kind of cleansing.
"I remember every detail before the accident. I was humming a song, and Elara was telling me a joke. Dad was smiling, enjoying the drive. Mom was gazing out at the raindrops racing down the window."
"Suddenly, there was a loud screech, and our car skidded off the road. I remember the chaos—the sound of metal colliding, the shattering of glass," Ava recounted. "And then, everything went silent. The rain was relentless, and the wind howled through the broken windows. And I felt a sharp pain in my head, and then everything went dark."
She took a deep breath, "When I opened my eyes, Elara was shaking me. The car was upside down. I was disoriented, confused. The rain was still pouring, but it wasn't soothing anymore. Elara, with tear-filled eyes, told me to look around."
Ava's voice wavered, "When I turned, I saw them—Mom and Dad. Their bodies were sprawled on the ground. Mom's face was covered in blood, and Dad… Dad's hand was stretched out as if trying to protect us."
She continued, "Raindrops were falling on their lifeless bodies, washing away the blood. It was like nature mourning with us, but no amount of rain could wash away the pain."
Ibrahim kept looking at her. He knew about her parents car accident. But hearing from Ava's mouth it was different. He noticed goosebumps forming on Ava's skin. She was getting goosebumps by remembering the scenes.
"One memory," Ava shared, "is etched in the day the bank sealed our home. After my parents' death, no one remained to settle the loan my father had taken to build the house."
"It was raining that day too. Elara and I stood there, watching the bank workers seal our home. Each bang of the hammer felt like a strike against our hearts. It felt like the universe itself was closing its chapters on us. The rain seemed to wash away not just the physical marks of our home but also the memories we had shared within those walls. But I.... I didn't cry that day. Maybe I was too dumb to understand all that."
Ava continued to look at the rain, "When Elara left for the military, it was pouring that day. The droplets mingled with my tears as I bid him farewell. The rain was a silent witness to my loneliness. I like to cry in rain. I still like the rain."
"When Elara was deployed in a conflict zone, and every news report hinted at danger, the rain became my silent confidante. It was during those nights that I'd stand in the rain, yearning for the drops to cleanse away my fears. The rain has been witness to my tears, not once , many times."
Ibrahim still stood there. He listened silently. This was a rare moment. Ibrahim was not a man who liked to hear. But he liked to hear all from Ava though she was sharing painful memories.
"You're incredibly strong, Ava." Ibrahim said. A small smile played on Ava's lips.
"Why do you still like the rain, then? Especially with such painful memories tied to it?" Ibrahim inquired.
Ava looked out at the raindrops tracing intricate patterns on the glass, pondered for a moment. "I don't know. Somehow, the rain gives me strength and a strange sense of relief."
Ibrahim observed her quietly. She is so innocent. And Ibrahim liked her innocence.
However, Ava's expression shifted, and she suddenly looked directly at him." I can't digest this sudden niceness from you,"
"Let's go for lunch. We can leave in the evening." Ibrahim said.