As children, we dreamed of our futures. Then an Israeli bullet took Malak’s

My best friend blushed easily, loved our Gaza neighbourhood, and hoped to become a nurse to look after sick children.

Malak was like a sister to me.

We were nine years old when we met at the Hamama School for Girls in the Sheikh Radwan neighbourhood of Gaza City. It was 2019 and Malak’s family had just moved into an apartment three buildings away from mine. When she joined the school, I introduced myself, and from that day onwards, we would walk to and from school together every day.

Back then, Sheikh Radwan seemed like our entire world. We had beautiful buildings and shops where we’d buy sweets. Families knew each other. Children played together. We knew all our neighbours and called the adults among them aunts and uncles.

At first, I thought Malak blushed easily because she was new to our school. But as time passed, I understood this was part of who she was. Malak was shy and quiet, gentle and caring. Her name means “angel”. It suited her.

She cared about our classmates and whenever one of them was upset, Malak would comfort them. I often saw her helping other children with their homework.