i'm really proud of this chapter. I hope you guys like it!    

***             

         I flatten my palms against my maroon dress, and smile, trying to hide my nervousness.

"Hi, Mr. Scott. how is little Ethan doing in his tutoring?"

He takes a step closer to me, frowning, and tense. "well, I'm glad you asked. Horrible, actually. You haven't been listening to my requests."

I clutch my bag harder. Where is my phone? "Would you like to elaborate?"

"Yes, I'd like to. How can you be so incompetent?"

I stare at him for a few seconds, trying to gauge whether he is serious or not. And, his unwavering gaze tells me he is. I'm in trouble.

"i.." I look around at the dimly lit plaza with mostly closed shops.

He takes a menacing step closer, and I have to take a step back. think think think.

"I want you to answer my question. How can you be so unprofessional? I told you many times to give him harder homework! My kid is incredibly smart."

My phone. I need my phone. "I understand you sir."

I gently adjust the strap of my bag, trying to inconspicuously reach for my phone in case I quickly need to make a phone call.

"At our academy, we strive for excellence, and we value the opinions of our customers. If you come tomorrow, we will make sure to give you the upmost attention."

He breathes out, and when he looks up at me, I genuinely fear for my life. Six foot two, and a white male, even if he hurt me, he's fearless against the law. He roughly shakes his head twice, and his gaze settles on me again, it's with venom, and angry steps towards. I start backing away, but I'm not fast enough. His hand closes around my neck, as I fish my phone out of my bag.

"What is this?" he says, touching my hijab with two fingers like it's a filthy thing. "Dumb Muzlims, I know I never should have trusted you."

The hijab doesn't choke me, but the possibility that it might choke to death sends my pulse for a ride. I start thinking about Rafiq, and how his reckless behavior led me here. And it breeds a different type of resentment in my heart. Right in that moment, all I could think about is that he broke the one promise he'd always said he'd keep—be in my corner when no one did. He disregarded my worries, hurt my feelings on multiple occasions and never saw anything wrong with it.

Mr. scoot lifts his arm, and I brace myself for the punch while fidgeting with the SOS button on my phone and praying to Allah for help.

His fist does connect with my jaw, but not fully because a voice I'd recognize anywhere speaks. Rafiq has Mr. scott against the wall beside me, in the same position I'd been in most seconds before, his eyes scanning my face for any injuries while speaking to scott.

"Mr. scott, I just caught you harassing a lady in the middle of the night. Not any. My wife."

He knees him in the stomach. Scott sucks in a sharp breath. His ego wouldn't allow him to show any more pain than that.

"Lucking for you, a camera has caught all of that. the cops are coming. I don't want to see you or your child on this premises again. I promise I won't be so forgiving next time. "

He adjusts his hold to press harder against the wall, his veins bulging. Rafiq's face is flushed, and his arms are shaking, barely able to contain himself. "But to answer to all your concerns, Miss Ihsan, which is Muslim not muzlim, is one the best. Trained by top educators. Attended multiple conferences on teaching, and won certificates."

This is when I feel like the conversation goes off course. It seems like he talks about things beyond tutoring.

"She is very attuned to the needs of those around her. She sees everything, but not only that-- and she is much better than me at this--, she acts upon those needs. She does not hesitate to sacrifice her own time for these students. When she wants the best for someone, she doesn't hold any of herself back. Many misunderstand her, including you, Scott." He spits his name like an insult. "and luckily, after today, it won't be a problem." He knees him again, earning the same reaction as before.

I feel tears pricking my eyes.

Rafiq's gaze locks with mine. Maybe that's the problem. I wear my heart too much on my sleeve, so much that I become replaceable because my love will always be there, waiting for you to choose it when you want to.

But while love is very important, I don't think it's enough to sustain a relationship, to sustain the peace.

Scott catches that moment between us. "maybe you should have looked at her while you said that."

"Apologize, Mr. Scott."

He shakes his head, and shortly after, the police arrive. I am asked multiple questions about the incident as they write a detailed report about the incident. I do not have to much hope; maybe a restraining order is the most they'll do. At one point, Rafiq disappears to provide them with the camera footage.

About an hour later, it's just me, him, and the officers start driving away in their cars with one of them having Scott in the backseat.

I take a long breath in, and stare at the dark horizon for a few seconds, trying to process what had just happened. That was a wild night.

I check my bag to make sure all my belongings are inside, then reach for my car keys. I unlock my car, and catch sight of Rafiq as I slide in, who's talking with the last police office present. Like he sensed my gaze, he quickly finishes up, and comes over. I can tell he's been dying to have this one-on-one chat since he caught Scott assaulting me.

He props his elbows in my rolled down window, and leans on them, watching me. I don't meet his eyes.

"How do you feel?" he whispers.

If Rafiq knows one thing about me, it's how much I hate men. When my parents divorced, and dad moved out, we were alone for a while. Mom and I had to do everything together. We'd met many men who'd said hurtful things to us, scammed us, and sometimes even almost kidnapped us. Yes, multiple times.

He couldn't have prevented this. But I am mad that he chose his family friend over me. I'm angry that he didn't come after me. I'm angry that he didn't check if I was okay.

The only reason he came when he did is because when I was fiddling with my phone trying to call for help, I accidentally called him. that was it.

"Resentful. Lost."

He leans on his arms, still watching me. I pull my mirror down to catch how I look, but mostly to avoid his gaze, and how uncomfortable I feel. My body is screaming at me to get as far away from him as possible. I've never been so disgusted.

This is a first.

"I'm sorry. I always hurt you."

That's when I glare at him, not answering. He seems shocked.

What an understatement.

"why are you so quiet?"

"I'm debating saying a lot of things right now, Rafiq. And none of them are nice." But that's not who I am. I am not the girl who wounds with her words when angry. That's not who our prophet PBUH was, and I want to be more like him.

"Let me take you home. That was draining."

"I'm good."

I reach into my glove box for a tissue, and start talking. "Thank you for coming out there. I was really scared."

I wipe the sweat off my face, and try to cool my face down.

"but—" he continues. There is always a but. I take a deep breath; this seems like the right decision.

"You're right. You always hurt me. I changed my mind; I don't want you call me when you're ready to apologize. Even when you see how wrong your actions were, I don't want you to call me at all."

Rafiq seems wounded. His eyes widen and he opens his mouth, not knowing what to say. To be fair, I cannot believe I just made that decision too. he knows how much family matters to me, and he is my family. But tonight, I learned about how much my peace is important to me. and this,... tonight,... that was too much.

I motion for him to lean out of my window. And he slowly does so.

I turn on the car, and fix my mirrors, partially because I'm nervous and I want to give my heart a chance to quiet down.

Am I making the right decision?

Rafiq quietly steps on the sidewalk in front of my car and watches me. Motionless the whole time. His face is flushed, and at one point, he puts his hands into his pockets, probably because of how much they are shaking.

Mine too. they are shaking against the steering wheel.

I recognize that look in his eyes—it's the same one I have right now, and one that mirrors the one I had multiple times after my parents divorced. Hopeless. Gutted. Like you don't have the energy to move forward.

It seems fitting that I give him a sign to move forward, so I pull my hand out the window as I'm turning away and wiggle my fingers.

There. The end of an era.

He doesn't do the same, and I cannot blame him. if someone broke my heart in ten seconds, I'd be paralyzed to.

Where do we go from here?

It doesn't take long before the first tear drop lands in my lap.

****

oh my god not gonna lie this chapter broke my heart. I tried to describe their emotions and thoughts better. let me know if you notice a difference in the text!

what's your favorite part of the story so far?