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...

Khadijah.

An hour later, I found myself holding my new phone, along with a SIM card that had been handed to me. I couldn't deny that I appreciated the phone; I loved the brand and model, as well as the accessories it came with.

With pursed lips, I slid the box into a drawer, intending to unbox it later. I brushed aside any lingering thoughts as I began to prepare to meet the whole family.

After we finished eating, Tahir informed me that we were joining his family at home. I genuinely loved the idea because I was extremely tired of doing absolutely nothing.

Already dressed, I went through the veils in my closet, selecting the one that fit best and shrugging it over my shoulder, leaving my neck uncovered. After applying a bit of perfume, I stepped out of the room and found Tahir casually seated in the living room.

His gaze was piercing as he assessed me from the moment I entered his space. I stopped several paces away from him, adjusting my wristwatch.

"I'm ready," I announced, looking up to face him.

Tahir rose from his chair, his expression unreadable as always. Already aware that personal space meant little to him, I braced myself for whatever was to come next; for some reason, the look in his eyes told me he wasn't stopping until he was just a few inches away from me.

And, he did not disappoint. He stopped directly in front of me.

His right hand came up, cupping my face and causing all the blood in my body to rush to the floor. I felt the slight brush of his finger over my lower lip. He looked down, and I followed the movement, taking note of the smudge of red on his finger.

My lipstick.

In a hushed whisper, he spoke. "Cover up."

Words failed me for a moment. Thankfully, I managed to recover before he could render me into mush. "I'm covered."

"Your veil," his fingers ran down the lacy fabric. "It's too small."

"It's the size I normally wear; we're not even leaving the house." I forced myself to respond, my heart racing as his finger brushed my lower lip once again.

"Do this for me, please." That plea at the end? It got to me.

I raised my head to look up at him, and our eyes instantly met. Feeling the moment grow too intimate for my liking, I stepped out of his embrace, turning around and trying my hardest to steady my breathing.

"You look beautiful," he added, the words stopping me dead in my tracks.

An involuntary smile crept onto my face as the warmth of his words ignited every corner of my being; every nook and cranny. It made me feel giddy, the tension of our little encounter dissipating as I turned my face to look at him from behind.

I love compliments.

"Thank you." I mouthed, then ambled to my room in precise steps, acutely aware of his eyes on my retreating form.

Finding another veil that fit wasn't difficult at all. Although it wasn't as large as the one I deemed perfect for Ya Aisha, it was decent enough.

When I returned to the room where I had left him, Tahir was on a phone call. He glanced at me once, whispered, "Let's go," and we promptly left together.

Throughout the short walk to his parents' side of the house, I kept to myself, my mind wandering to my short-term plans and thoughts about when I would be taken to my parents' house for a visit as well. The thought made me feel nostalgic, but I brushed my feelings aside as his call ended.

"You good?" he asked, ever perceptive.

I nodded, exhaling deeply. "I am."

By the time we arrived, Sa'eedah and Noor were already waiting by the door. Noor shrieked with excitement and enveloped me in a tight hug, while Sa'eedah side-hugged me and gently led me into the house. The whole family sat in the parlor, and as soon as we stepped inside, everyone stood up to greet us, except Abba and Ammi, who maintained their seats with smiles on their faces.

We exchanged greetings and embraces before I was playfully dragged into a different sitting room, presumably for the girls.

For the first time, I met Shukhra, Tahir's immediate younger sister. Like Sa'eedah, she was a carbon copy of Ammi, and she treated me with the respect befitting her brother's wife, which quickly overwhelmed me. She was seven years older than I was!

I insisted that she call me Khadijah because I honestly couldn't bear to hear her refer to me with a title appropriate for someone older. However, I decided it was best to refer to her as Adda Shukhra, as everyone else did.

"Adda Shukhra, do you want to see the proof?" Noor started, her eyes sparkling with mischief and excitement.

I looked around, wondering what she was talking about with a little smile on my face.

"Yes, Noorie," Shukhra replied, laughing softly as Noor shifted closer to me.

In one swift motion, accompanied by a muttered apology, Noor whipped off my headgear, letting my mini braids tumble out of their band and fall down my shoulders.

"Noor!" They cried out in unison, looking apologetically at me.

Oh, that summed it up. Noor had told them about my hair—the hair she had raved about the first time it was exposed in her presence.

"It's no problem " I assured them, smiling sheepishly.

"Ya Allah!" they all chorused, their admiration palpable as they gawked at my hairstyle—at my hair or both, I couldn't quite tell.

Despite my instinct to cover my hair, they protested, insisting that I should feel free with them.

"We're your sisters now," they assured me, expressing excitement over how lucky their brother was.

"You're such a spec, Adda Khadijah. You've got the beauty, the personality, and the hair!" Muna exclaimed, taking a spot beside me as Noor sifted my hair through her fingers. "I am enthralled!" She dramatically flailed her arms, pretending to swoon.

Sa'eedah swept in, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Show me the way Adda Khadi, I want my hair to be as rich as yours."

"Don't mind her; she cares the least for her hair among us," Haifa chimed in, gazing at us affectionately while I allowed Noor to style and pamper my hair.

We talked about various trivial and significant things, and I took the time to understand all six of them better. I realized Ammi had done a remarkable job raising these girls, each was uniquely wonderful in her own right.

Hairi, exuding maturity, spoke only a few words, her smile soft and constant. She was the least talkative among them; not even Haifa was as reserved as Hairi, who was also sophisticated, speaking only when prompted, and even then, her words were often wrapped in sarcasm. I noticed that. Muna was the outspoken one; I caught Haifa referring to her as an ITK (I-Too-Know); they said she was the genius know-it-all. Sa'eedah had a knack for storytelling, and during lunch, I realized she was the biggest eater, though you could never quite tell by her appearance. She might be on the curvier side, but her waistline was perfect.

Finally, there was the boss lady, Noor; a perfect blend of cheerfulness; she talked a lot, ate a great deal, and gave sleep the respect it deserved.

They all shared a deep sense of faith, a delightful topping of elegance woven into their personalities. I couldn't help but wonder how Abba, Ammi, Tahir, and Al-amin managed the challenge of cohabitating with six girls under one roof—three among them loud and energetic.

I scoffed to myself, recalling how Ya Mukhtar and his friends often claimed that Amna and I were noisemakers. In comparison to Noor, Sa'eedah and Muna, we were nothing. Absolutely nothing.

After praying Maghrib, and spending most of the day blissfully lost in laughter, Tahir called my phone, asking me to bid Ammi and Abba goodnight before we headed home. I complied, feeling exhausted yet satisfied with how my day was spent. His family was amazing.

When we finally returned home, a wave of fatigue washed over me completely, as though I had done something other than sit, talk, and eat.

I realized that Tahir preferred to spend the time between Maghrib and Isha in the masjid. In solitude, I decided to recite the Holy Qur'an while waiting for the call to Ishaa. It came not long after, and after praying, I left for my bedroom, wanting to take a short nap before calling it a day.

Quickly, I shrugged out of my outfit, making a note to take a bath when I awoke from my nap, and slipped into a short camisole.

I had no idea when I drifted off; I only knew that my lights had gone out the moment my head met the soft pillow.

...

The first tap on my shoulder felt like the brush of a feather, making me clutch the blanket tighter. I had no idea when I had draped it over myself, but I snuggled deeper into the bed. However, the tap came again, this time accompanied by words.

"Khadijah wake up, it's past Fajr. You're late for prayer," A voice whispered lightly.

My eyes fluttered open, then closed again as I sank deeper into the soft mattress, grateful for whoever had thought of getting me such a comfortable bed. Unexpectedly, my blanket was pulled away, and I felt a chill rush over me.

It took considerable effort to part one eye open, and I stared at the person responsible for such a heinous act. "No! Just give me a few more minutes, and I'll wake up."

"It's past time for Fajr. I woke you up earlier, and you promised the same thing."

Blaring my eyes wide open, the sleep in them began to evaporate as his words settled in.

Late for fajr?

I immediately got off the bed, searching for my inner cap in the dimly lit room.

Tahir stood beside me, handing me the garment, and I thanked him in a groggy voice, noticing our proximity instantly. Instinctively, I stepped out of his way, but as I did, I glanced down at myself and froze in horror. I was only in the camisole I had slipped into the night before, a thin fabric that barely covered me, leaving me feeling utterly exposed.

My feet felt like they had been lit on fire, a sensation raging through my entire body. I internally scolded myself for always embarrassing myself in his presence, while simultaneously trying to formulate an escape plan—with a frozen brain.

I took one glance at him and bolted to the bathroom, urgency propelling my every step. Tahir's chuckle reached me just before I could close the door, or rather, bang it shut in my haste. Turning on the shower quickly, I took my time bathing, completely forgetting that I hadn't yet prayed. It wasn't until I finished that the realization hit me, and I hurriedly performed wudhu.

In my frenzy, I slipped on the bathroom floor in a moment of clumsiness, my actions rushed.

"Klutz!" I yelped as I stumbled, feeling pain radiate through the side I had fallen on. My right elbow and hip took the brunt of the fall.

Tahir rushed to my aid. His steps hurried.

Thankfully, I had a robe on this time, even though I had nothing beneath it. His eyes widened at the sight of me lying on the floor, attempting to get up.

"Easy, Khadijah," he warned, concern evident in his tone and frantic eyes.

I let my eyes flutter closed when he wrapped his arms around me, gingerly sweeping me into his arms, my face against his chest. His touch was reassuring as he carried me out of the bathroom towards the bed, each step careful. On our way, a sharp pain shot through my left arm, prompting me to cry out in agony, fighting the urge to bite the skin closest to me.

He brushed his hand soothingly over my arm, and I felt the warmth of his palm against my skin, but his expression was serious. His eyebrows furrowed into a stern frown, and a hint of worry creased his forehead. "Where does it hurt, Khadijah?" he asked, concern flooding his voice.

I couldn't muster the words to respond, feeling suddenly vulnerable under his scrutiny. Instead, I simply rubbed my arm in silence, hoping to convey my discomfort through my actions rather than words.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, carefully depositing me onto the bed with the gentleness of someone handling fragile porcelain. "I'll be right back," he promised, standing up and making his way out of the room.

His actions felt abrupt, leaving me wondering what he was planning to do as confusion settled in my mind.

Tahir returned a few moments later carrying a box—a first aid kit.

I couldn't help but marvel at how Tahir had stepped up as my savior and caregiver. I never imagined him as a man who took first aid seriously. In my mind, he was like every other typical guy with a mundane routine: eat, pray, work, exercise, roam about, and sleep. Not to mention, he was usually glued to the TV, watching football with Ya Mukhtar, and that alone annoyed me because of the boisterous noise men made while watching intense matches.

Tahir wrapped his arms around me again, this time attempting to adjust my robe to get a better look at my left arm. The keyword being, "attempt."

My heart raced, and I instinctively clutched the fabric tightly to me. Fully aware that I was only wearing my birthday suit beneath the robe, I held the sides together, pleading with my eyes for him to understand. It felt like an improper gesture.

It was an improper gesture as far as I was concerned no matter the intention.

"I just want to check your injury," he explained, his tone earnest as he locked eyes with me, searching for my consent.

I tucked my chin into my shoulder, my eyes squeezing shut. "But I can't take it off; I... I'm not wearing anything beneath," I stammered, wishing the ground would swallow me whole in my embarrassment.

He raised a brow, confirming that he was already aware of my state of undress, yet he believed it was still appropriate to check for injuries.

I stifled a sob, embarrassment and pain swirling within me.

...

AN
Hello Assalamu Alaikum! I hope we're all doing good, Mashaa Allah.

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Or, Tales of The Heart Book 1, with  a ten-chapter preview available on Wattpad. The complete book is available on telegram for N4000 only.

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