"What do you mean!"

Her screams reverberated within the four walls of her compact room. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets as she was informed about the news their manager delivered.

"You're telling me, the poor civilization will be swept away with just a signature on a sheet of paper?" She rasped, her heart trashing within her chest. The manager sighed and replied, confirming the news.

"If they're removing an entire neighborhood, then they've got to provide some sort of shelter in relief care zones?" Zoya shrieked, hoping it would start to make any analogical sense.

"No Zoya, it's a batch of refugees." The manager explained as if it was the most logical reasoning to her query. "So what if it's the refugees?" Zoya argued. "This is unacceptable!" She yelled which caused the manager to frustratedly shut the phone call. Those refugees had fled their countries in attempts to save themselves, they'd left their lives behind. They had left the only place they belonged- that they could call home and yet very few empathised.

Zoya gasped, jerking out of her bed and throwing on the nearest hijab she found from her wardrobe. She stomped out and trudged to put on her sneakers. "Zoe, where're you going?" Bilal called out but Zoya's head was muddled with ferocity. Zoya yanked the door open and proceeded towards her scooter.

She started up her scooter and finally heard Bilal's aggravated cries which followed her out. "Zoya! Have your ears finally given up on you?" He shouted and she turned to face him. She rolled her eyes annoyance ringing her features.

"What's wrong?" Bilal noticed the distasteful sight of his sister.

She pulled on her helmet. "I have to go to Shahamill police station." she acrimoniously spat. Bilal eyed her before placing his hand onto the scooter, so she wouldn't be able to leave.

"That area where you began your health project?" He asked.

"Yes. I may have to go and have a word with the organizer of this stupid thing. Or maybe throw him out of his little hole and feed him to the famished dogs in the area!" She yelled on top of her lungs. Bilal started utterly confused at her sudden outburst.

"What's wrong?" Zoya heaved a sigh and nibbled onto her lower lip, an action she committed when she was stressed. "The manager called and told us we're supposed to close down the project for now. I asked for a reason because we all worked hard and promised the kids a better life. But the manger says, there's a team of architects wanting to demolish the entire town to build something," Zoya explained, fuming at her own words.

Bilal's frown deepened. "Have you spoken to your professor who assigned you with this in the first place?" Zoya nodded throwing her head down in defeat.

"I have but the professors say they're unable to get involved in such matters. Professor James merely sighed and chanted, 'looks like we'll have to find you another project fellas' and went about to sip his tea," Zoya grumbled.

Zoya suddenly felt Bilal climbing into the little space behind her on her scooter. She looked aback to eye him. "You're not going on your own." And with that Zoya drove away.

:)-(:

"I'm sorry, we are unable to help you with this. The government owns this land and they are free to let any project be a part of it." The policeman with a pencil-thin mustache stated, showing the papers of government orders. Zoya glared poisonously.

"The land has been bought by Dreams cooperation and they've handed this project to an architectural company for the construction of a museum," the other inspector with sunglasses stated factually.

"I understand that the government has full ownership of the Shahamill and they are free to do whatever they like with it; however, the refugees residing there were granted permission from the government itself. Why is it that they've not been considered while taking this decision? Why aren't they provided with a place to go?" Bilal argued, his tone steady and confident.

"That is pretty weird," the mustache man rasped but uninterestedly signed off some other papers on his desk.

"Okay listen kids. This is not a matter you need to be involved in. The town doesn't give a damn. Why're you so bothered?" The other guy interjected harshly.

Zoya stared at the monstrous men in front of her with her throat closing up on her. "It's because they don't know about this! Who is in charge of getting them new homes?" She interrogated. The men exchanged glances yet remained silent.

"We have orders and we are not obliged to inform you of anything, unless ma'am you are president?" He said mockingly. Upon hearing the silence, the moody inspector replied, "Yeah that's what I though." And off he went to the other table.

Zoya's heart dropped and she turned away, marching towards the exit. Bilal followed suit and sat behind his sister who seemed to angry to speak to him. Bilal noticed the route took them back to their home and confusedly eyed his sister. She was never one to give up.

As Zoya parked her scooter, she pushed off the seat to run into the house. Bilal grabbed her arm before she could leave. "Zoe, no need to be so involved. Allah will fix it."

Zoya stared at her brother irritated at his comment. "Of course, Allah is the only one who fixes everything. But that doesn't mean we, humans, don't make an effort. What if it's through my struggles that Allah wants to help the town?" She explained and sprinted into the house leaving a speechless Bilal.

Zoya passed by her mother and immediately dashed into her room. She grabbed her laptop from the little cupboard and seated herself before the screen. She remembered tracing the email of the architectural company in charge of the project from the papers the policemen had in front of them.

If the company was building something on a land, they should've been aware where the people already residing there would leave to. It made no sense how such a big company was allowing this malpractice.

Zoya immediately emailed her concerns.

She also checked out the company's website and called to speak to anyone who'd help her out. The receptionist refused to acknowledge the issue or even allow her to speak to someone more informed about this project.

It was almost afternoon and Zoya was becoming more and more stressed.

Zoya noted down the address and left her room.

"Zoya, have something to eat!" Her mother called out since Zoya had starved herself ever since she found out about the issue. Zoya responded with a 'later' and skidded off to the scooter. Bilal had left to run some errand, so she didn't bother waiting for him.

The GPS on her phone calculated the distance to be fifteen minutes away from her and with that she began her journey. Her blood was still boiling at the thought of those gracious people going homeless.

She would go to any extent to help them out.

)(

Zoya stared at the white screen of her laptop. She had almost completed her new project yesterday except for the analysis. Two hours had cascaded by and she had jotted nothing down. Her hands were usually fast with typing and she found the topic to be relatively easier than her previous ones, but her thoughts were blocked by the faces of the people in Shahamill.

There resided a petite girl who always smiled at Zoya unknown of the fact that her father was suffering from Tuberculosis; a young couple who recently had a little baby boy and they found him running a constant fever due to malaria; an old single mother suffering from chest pain was found to have a severe case of atherosclerosis.

Their team spent midnights, prescribing medicine and treatment to the people, hoping they would gain more experience. Late at night, after the living daylights were soaked out of them, every family of Shahamill walked out with a plate of homemade food with them and gifted them for their hard work.

Nothing was as rewarding as the taste of that bowl of stew Zoya consumed that night.

Her eyes grew heavy and she realized she hadn't made any progress on her project, so she shut the laptop and threw herself onto her bed.

She had gone to visit the architectural firm but was met with a temperamental receptionist and an old man who found it hard listening to her. She argued for hours when finally the old man, or as he later introduced himself, the department manager, gave in and asked her to attend the meeting tomorrow.

Zoya had called her friends and asked for their support in the conference.

A while later after she showered, she heard her phone ding. Upon realizing it was Zaib, her head cleared up and she bounced up in bed excitedly. Conversations with him were simple with a pinch of sweetness.

He told her he wanted to talk to her and also adorably confessed his love for her which she dodged very smugly. He also updated her on his life and told her about a meeting.

She always hoped everything worked out for him. She spent the night working out important points to discuss tomorrow.

"-.-"

"I can't wait to attack those cowards! How dare they take away their houses," Fred grimaced, aggressively tackling his keyboard. It was six in the morning when everyone decided to meetup in the nearest coffee shop. The members were preparing their hardest to fight for their cause.

They hoped the meeting today would change things. Ever since their team heard of the news from Zoya, they were restless and untamable. Many visited the university's heads to talk about the issue but the adults merely advised not to take part within this ordeal.

"I asked my daddy to find some information and he contacted the company in charge of this project. Those brats lied to our face and told us that the people will be moved to Hansley. Funny thing, Hansley is an industrial zone and it's actually illegal to build any houses there," Rome explained as she repainted her nails.

"Oh, well I've also heard that they actually did offer the architectural company enough capital to build separate houses for the people of Shahamill but they've become greedy and didn't act upon their promise," Andy stated.

Zoya's heart filled up with hatred. It was sickening how to earn some worldly dollars, these people were ready to overthrow those poor families.

She would do anything today to win against those money hungry beasts.

An hour passed by and everyone prepared themselves. Rome, being the only one equipped with a car in their group, drove the members to the company.

They handed over their ID cards for security reasons and entered the huge hall. Half of the table was already filled with members. She took a while absorbing the uncountable faces and then took a seat while greeting them.

One of the members, whom Zoya recognized as the old man rose from his chair. "I have invited these group of young students since they have some unprecedented issues regarding our new project."

Zoya confidently rose to her feet.

"I am Zoya Malik representing our team today. We are cardiology students and we're here today to put forth some concerns regarding this new project. We are members of the Health Association Of Seattle University project which consisted of helping out people in Shahamill."

Zoya heard the door swing open but she didn't bother turning to address whomsoever it was.

"We were informed that this architectural firm is going to destroy the town and take away the shelters of those poor refugees. We are here to fight for their rights. We demand that the community of Shahamill either be left alone or—"

Her throat closed up on her and the words seemed to trap within her mouth. She found her body growing heavy and her heartbeat pacing faster than normal. The familiar man drew all her attention: the familiar black hair, the familiar watch hugging his wrist, the familiar smile she could identify within millions'.

Zaib?

Zaib.

He seemed unaffected but as he caught a sight of her, he froze within his tracks, his grassy eyes gaping at her. Zoya's frame grew heavy. The silence gnawed her insides and everyone's eyes on her started to make her feel like insects were crawling on her frame.

All the bells began to ring within her head. The text message from yesterday.

Well, it's the construction of a museum. I drew some rough sketches. I'm still working on things. We have an important meeting about it tomorrow.

He was the architect; the one who agreed upon this contact; the one ready to snatch away the shelters of the people of Shahamill.

The high end conference table in between the two, confirmed their distance, physically and emotionally. And when the realization dawned upon her, she did the one thing she could think of, the one thing she was best at: she ran from him.

Once again.