...

Khadijah.

A yawn escaped my lips, followed by a stretch that made my spine tingle.

I woke up tangled in the sheets, my eyes bleary with an insatiable need for more sleep. My body felt different, and the memories of last night came rushing back. A wave of heat surged through me, starting from the crown of my head and flowing all the way down to my toes.

The room felt empty, void of his presence. I knew because I couldn't feel that masculine strength that had held me tightly against him barely an hour ago.

Earlier, after we'd woken up for Fajr, Tahir had lingered, looking down at me with an expression I couldn't quite understand. Then, with a kiss to my forehead, he had urged me to get up and head into the bathroom. I'd promised to rise only after he left. The shameless man laughed at my reluctance, threatened to carry me to the bathroom himself, and—of all things Holy—wash me up if he returned from the masjid to find me still in bed.

The thought alone sent goosebumps erupting across my skin. I had to make sure that didn't happen.

Let a girl handle one, okay?

After we'd offered our prayers individually, I'd hopped right back into bed, wrapping the blanket tightly around me. I fought the urge to squirm when he returned, pretending to be asleep as he slipped back under the covers.

He'd casually removed his shirt before reclaiming his spot on the bed, wrapping his strong arms around me, undeterred by my makeshift shield of blankets. I feigned sleep, playing dead as he greeted me with a "good morning," fully aware that he could see through my act.

Once I had finished my morning adhkar, I'd drifted back to sleep, savoring the coolness left by last night's storm and the soothing chill in the room.

Now, I turned my head, letting my eyes roam the room in search of him. Relieved to find I was alone, I stretched once more and gathered his pillow to hold against me, intending to delve deeper into sleep—and I did, so it was more than just an intention. But my eyes shot open at the sudden recollection that I had a class at 2 PM.

A frustrated groan escaped my lips as I absently scoured the nightstand for my phone, feeling completely robbed of what should have been the perfect atmosphere for an uninterrupted nap. It was too ideal a moment to squander on anything other than blissful sleep.

When I checked the time, a wave of dread washed over me; it was a minute before 11. Just enough time to take a bath, eat breakfast, and prepare lunch. In short, not enough to indulge in the sleep I craved more than anything.

But this was me we were talking about. And when it came to indulging my whims, I was the most determined person I knew—a huge lie in most cases, but not this one. Instantly, I set an alarm for 11:59 and drifted back to sleep with a satisfied moan and a wide contented smile spread across my face.

I was absolutely confident in my plan.

...

Like the Pied Piper luring rats with his tune, the heavenly scent invading my senses wafting from the kitchen pulled me out of bed. I zombie-walked toward it, my morning rituals barely complete. My eyes were still heavy, and I'd only managed to splash water on my face once and brush my teeth. I hadn't even taken a proper bath yet.

The first thing I saw was Tahir's back—thankfully, he was wearing a shirt. He was so engrossed in whatever he was doing at the stove that he hadn't noticed me. I murmured a quiet "Salaam" to break the silence, stomping slightly to alert him to my presence without seeming like I was seeking his attention. Curiosity got the better of me, and I moved closer to see what had lured me out of bed.

Tahir was busy stirring something in a pot, his focus unwavering. He towered over me; I didn't even reach his shoulders. I had to maneuver around him to get a proper look at what had him so occupied. His undivided attention on the pot nearly made me scowl.

I was hungry. That was reason enough to push aside the shyness I felt around him after everything that had happened. My stomach felt completely empty, as if it had been hollowed out.

"Good morning," I said, my voice slightly hoarse, my eyes glued to his moving arm as I rose onto the tips of my toes in a futile attempt to peek into the pot.

To my surprise, Tahir merely nodded, acknowledging my greeting before hastily redirecting his attention back to the bubbling pot.

I scowled, fighting the rising urge to push him into the pot just to get closer to whatever he seemed to care about more than anything at that moment.

As I moved closer for a better look, my arm inadvertently brushed against his, sending a shiver of awareness coursing through my entire being. He must have felt it too, because it halted his stirring temporarily.

Tahir looked down at me with a small smile, his eyes scanning my face. "Morning, Khadijah. How are you? How do you—"

"I'm fine," I quickly interrupted, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence.

Why would I answer a question like that? It would only bring both our minds back to everything that had happened last night. Everything he had initiated and finished.

"I feel battered, used," I didn't say out loud. The only person I could confide that to was my reflection in the bathroom mirror, and no one else.

With him facing me, I seized the opportunity to get a proper look into the pot. Noodles stared back at me, and I switched my gaze between him and the pot, watching as Tahir continued to stir the contents.

Well-cooked noodles.

Well-cooked noodles he refused to stop stirring.

I fought the maddening impulse to snatch the pasta fork from him and fling it out the window—and I wasn't even a violent person.

"You can close the pot and let it cook. Though I think it's cooked enough," I suggested, but his response nearly made me laugh.

"No, I don't want them to stick together. You can take a seat; I'll be done soon," he said, motioning to the stools by the island before returning to his task.

Standing there like a statue, I wondered when we'd started taking turns to cook. But because Tahir was friends with Ya Mukhtar, I shouldn't have been surprised. Ya Mukhtar had a way of catching people off guard too—birds of a feather, I supposed.

Having no choice but to obey, I took a seat, waiting to be served. Tahir turned off the stove and served me not long after. He'd fried some perfectly golden eggs and sausages to go with the noodles, finally calling an end to his culinary endeavours.

With a critical eye, I analyzed the food before me; there was an abundance of well-diced veggies scattered throughout the dish, and the aroma was nothing short of heavenly.

Tahir settled into the chair next to me, and together we dug in.

"Damnit," he cursed under his breath, taking a huge gulp of his coffee. His eyes widened comically as he caught sight of me about to take a bite. "Don't eat this."

He attempted to stop me, but I quickly shoved a forkful into my mouth. I couldn't resist the impulse, chewing, savoring, and appreciating every bit. I took note of how generous he had been with the seasoning; it was a bit excessive and the ring onions were so large they could practically suffocate someone.

Tahir held my hand gently but shook his head in dismay, clearly distressed. "This is inedible. I'll get us something else to eat. I thought I could make you something for breakfast for once instead of the other way around."

I smiled, appreciating the gesture, it was sweet and well-intentioned. But I wanted my hand back. To my surprise, the food tasted quite good to me, not inedible as he claimed.

"It's alright, it tastes really nice to me," I reassured him.

His eyes widened further before he slowly released my hand, staring at me as if I'd grown a second head. "Don't patronise me, Khadijah, the seasoning alone could make you sick. Please, don't eat another bite after this—no, Khadijah!"

"Not patronising you, really!"

He tried to take the plate from me, but I wasn't about to let that happen. After throwing him a little glare, I continued to eat, not out of obligation to make him feel better or to validate his kind gesture—though it truly was appreciated—but simply because I enjoyed the food, against his better judgment.

Once I was full and satisfied, wearing a wide grin, I turned to Tahir, whose expression grew more apprehensive with each passing moment.

"What?" I asked innocently, after washing down the last bite with a generous gulp of vanilla-flavored tea that was sweet and soothing.

"I'll never understand or believe that you actually enjoyed eating that," he said, shaking his head with a grimace.

I ignored the look of disbelief on Tahir's face and took another sip. My attention then shifted to his raised hand as he checked the time on his wristwatch. I couldn't help but admire the strength of his forearm. There was something undeniably powerful about it; a single glance revealed the underlying muscle that lay beneath. The way his veins stood out added to his masculine aura. It was... sexy?

I nearly choked on the warm tea, wrenching my eyes away before I could be caught drooling over a man's forearm. Not just any man, but the very same one who had whispered to me—holding my gaze with such intensity—about feelings and desires that stretched far beyond my frail capacity to comprehend.

When Tahir had been explaining what I stirred within him, I had felt initially baffled. I didn't have the kind of body that drove men wild, nor did I possess a sultry, seductive nature.

And then, when he had mentioned taking me with him, I'd had an inkling of what he meant—but definitely not to that extent; the reality of it had far exceeded my expectations. I could recall every single detail of what had happened after: every action, every word, every raspy breath exchanged between us.

The hairs on the nape of my neck stood on end as I became acutely aware of where my thoughts had wandered.

Tahir's voice sliced through my haze, snapping me back to the present and scattering remaiming thoughts of last night from my mind. "Don't you have a class today?"

My eyes widened as I met his gaze, then quickly skittered away, recalling the fierce look he had given me last night; the one that blurred the lines between us until none of us could discern where I ended and where he began. Nervously, I chewed on my lip. 

"I have a class in an hour. At 2."

"You don't plan to go?" he asked, his brows furrowing in confusion. 

I shook my head, standing up to collect our plates and cups, wrinkling my nose at the bitter remnants in his coffee cup. "I do plan to go. I'll just take a bath now, get everything ready, and then call Malam Habu."

"I'll take you there. What time will you be done?"

I hurriedly washed the dishes, turning to face him. "After Asr, In Shaa Allah."

Tahir nodded, a look of determination crossing his features. "Then I'll be there to pick you up. How's Amna?" he asked, taking a step back.

"She's good. You haven't eaten anything yet; you only took a cup of coffee." I pointed out.

He shrugged, but an intensity I hadn't noticed before flickered across his face. I noticed because I was hyper-aware of every little thing about him. Instead of stepping away, he began moving toward me, slowly closing the distance. 

"I woke up earlier than you did. I ate while you were asleep," he said, his voice deepening as he closed in on me. He didn't stop until he was crowding my personal space and then tilted my chin upward, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Do you feel well enough to go to school today? Or are you—"

"I'm fine. I can—I mean, sure, I feel good enough to go to school. I'm very fine; there's nothing wrong with me," I rambled in one breath, my eyes darting away from his piercing stare, and his mouth.

"You're sure?" he asked, his voice dropping several notches to a worried, gruff tone.

I nodded, trying to appease him, but the truth was, who could be truly fine after last night? The answer was clear: no one.

Tahir studied my face thoroughly, his gaze searching. I wasn't sure what convinced him that I was telling the truth, but his expression softened. He leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear as he whispered, "Next time, I promise to be more gentle. I was too inflamed to think properly. But I'll try."

I reflexively tucked my face into his T-shirt, ignoring the fact that it was very much attached to him. Who bloody cared?! What was he saying? I refused to process it. If I were fair-skinned, I would've flushed from the tip of my scalp to wherever blushes stopped. My fingers subconsciously gripped the fabric of his shirt, and I felt the rumble of laughter resonate through his chest, then his throat, before escaping in a teasing, hushed sound.

Although I couldn't claim to know much about men being seductive, Tahir was an unapologetically natural seducer, and the way he carried himself suggested he was well aware of this fact. There was a cockiness to him that was both infuriating and irresistible.

My fingers trembled as I began to wonder how many girls had been the recipients of that low, sultry sound he just made, or others like it. The thought dampened my mood, and I slowly extricated my fingers from around him, intending to step aside and create space between us.

But before I could pull away, Tahir's hand slinked around my waist, drawing me back against him. "I've never met anyone as shy as you," he remarked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Which, in my mind, translated to: I've met plenty of other girls—girls who weren't inexperienced, naive, or easily flustered like you.

"I'm not," I bit out, trying to resist his magnetic pull and move away.

"Prove it," he challenged, hauling me against him so our bodies pressed together.

I raised an eyebrow, the dare in his eyes spurring me on. I had no idea what I was doing until I found myself rising onto the tips of my toes and pressing the briefest kiss against his jaw.

Ducking away before he could react, I stepped back, leaving him stunned. "That should be proof enough," I said, glancing over my shoulder to find him staring at me, his eyes dark.

But my steps quickened, though I knew I could never outrun him. He intercepted me by the door, barely sparing a second to spin me around, and in no time at all, he was melding our lips together, melting away any pretense of boldness and proving just how shy I truly was. 

...

Taking a bath in record-breaking time, I quickly l slipped into the outfit I had mentally planned to wear. It was a lovely beige dress, soft and flowing, perfectly paired with a medium-sized black veil. I didn't spare much time on makeup, as I was already cutting it close to missing my class entirely.

In a rush, I refilled my water bottle, recalling the last class where I had realized just how rapidly my throat grew parched, highlighting the necessity of keeping that bottle close at hand.

"I'm ready," I announced, approaching Tahir, who was waiting in his living room.

Tahir glanced up, looking great in casual attire. His eyes scanned me once, taking in my appearance, before he motioned for me to lead the way while he locked up the house. I did, feeling his penetrating stare all the way to the garage, unsure which car he would be using today.

He seemed about to say something, but held back, inclining his head towards the car he had just unlocked. I pouted, mentally berating him for not opening the door for me like in romance novels. Then, I reminded myself, we were not characters in a romance novel.

Tahir started the car and drove out without a word. I noticed the crease between his brows deepen with each passing minute, as if he were lost in thought.

Yep, I'd like to think I have a gold medal in the art of peripheral vision scrutiny.

He slowed down, turned to face me, and I saw a slight muscle twitching in his cheek. "A person could notice you from a distance just by scanning a crowd," he remarked, his tone casual yet heavy with implication.

Unsure what exactly that meant, I raised an eyebrow, silently asking for elaboration.

"You're sparkling," he clarified. "It's hard not to notice you."

My eyes went down, searching for the sparkles I couldn't see, then I realized he was referring to the tiny beadwork on my dress.

"I'm not criticizing your dress," he continued, his voice earnest. "You look beautiful—extremely so. But other men would notice, and there's also the matter of your perfume. You don't know what that does to men, do you?"

A thousand thoughts swirled in my mind, but one word echoed more loudly than the rest: Sabr...

I took a deep breath, feeling the subtle approach of a fever building within me at a moderate pace.

Sabr.

Sabr!

"Maybe if you'd worn something bigger for the dress, it wouldn't have been so noticeable," he had the gall to continue, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside me; feelings I didn't fully understand myself.

Anger, it seemed, was ominously close, particularly when my brain interpreted his words as criticism. At home, Ya Bashir had been the modesty police, sometimes refusing to take Amna and me out because we were showing too much skin. Too much skin could turn out to be nothing but our elbows to our wrists.

Tahir's version of modesty was beyond my comprehension. Perhaps he would prefer I donned a drab outfit, complete with a sash that read, "Back off, she's married to the modesty chief." I looked away, fighting the urge to roll my eyes, which would be disrespectful, especially in such a tense situation.

"Khadijah, you can clearly hear what I'm saying."

I cleared my throat, the hurricane swirling faster, but I struggled to tame it. "Please, please, and please, let's not start this now. We can discuss what brown, black, or grey plain outfit I should wear for school later. This dress is decent enough, my veil isn't small to begin with, and the sparkling beadwork doesn't even cover one-fifth of my dress. And I don't know what you mean about my perfume—"

"It's sensual," he interrupted, his jaw tightening.

Pretending as though I hadn't heard that part, I continued. "No one could smell it from several yards away, or even a few feet."

"Khadijah, I did the moment you stepped into the parlor."

"Maybe you shouldn't complain," I countered, indignantly.

"Don't wear that perfume next time you're going out."

I opened my mouth to respond, then hesitated, then couldn't stop myself. My anger suppression was virtually nonexistent lately. The smallest things could set me off, and this was too much.

"I could have worn something even more eye-catching. I have plenty from my lefe. But I didn't, because I know I'm married, and even if I wasn't, I know the difference between right from wrong. You don't know what it takes for a woman to choose an outfit; it's so easy for men to grab the closest thing within reach. Cut me some slack, will you?"

His eyes met mine, and he raised his eyebrows, probably wondering what my rant was really about. I was wondering too. I'd gone off-script, but felt an undeniable need to voice my thoughts, if only to claim the last word.

After my outburst, he remained silent. I turned to look out the window, realizing we'd reached my school.

I mumbled directions to my lecture hall, and as soon as the car stopped, he reached out and grabbed my hand, preventing me from leaving.

My plan was to mutter a goodbye and storm off, my body language conveying my feelings; screaming my frustration, particularly.

He had other plans. Tugging gently at my hand, he urged me to look at him. "Next time, do not wear this perfume. Or, I promise you, Khadijah, we'll return home, and I'll wash it off myself. Believe me, I will," he paused, regarding me with a stern expression. "You can wear it at home at all times, instead."

Weakened, I pleaded with my eyes to be released and nodded in agreement. The image my mind conjured from his words? Eek!

Tahir stepped out of the car with me, walking close, his hand occasionally brushing my side.

"What are you doing?" I asked, noticing some of my roaming course-mates staring.

"Escorting you to class. Am I bothering you?"

I shook my head, finding the gesture cute, but my lingering anger refused to acknowledge it. It labelled it overbearing.

We walked toward the staircase leading to my lecture hall and stopped.

"You don't need to worry about lunch or dinner today, Khadijah. Just text me the moment you're done, alright?"

"Alright, I will." I smiled genuinely. "Thank you for the ride, but not for scolding me along the way."

A sly smile crept onto his lips, and I caught the change in his expression because I had been glaring at him in mock indignation.

"I didn't scold you, Hajiya Khadijah autan mamanta."

The glare intensified but took on a playful quality this time. I shrugged a shoulder in playful defiance. "You did, and I won't forget that you did."

At that moment, my phone began to ring, displaying Amna's contact. I slid it to the right and held the phone to my ear, bracing myself for her inevitable excuse for not being able to come to class, expecting it. Honestly, I would've followed Tahir back home.

"Khadi, I've been looking for you! Where are you?"

I gave her directions before hanging up, looking up at Tahir.

"Enjoy your class, Khadijah. See you later."

"Bye! Thanks."

He nodded in acknowledgment before walking back to his car. Wrenching my eyes away from him, I caught sight of some girls I exchanged greetings with countless times, but didn't know their names, approaching. I offered them a genuine smile, inquiring about the holidays and other trivial matters. They moved away to a spot nearby and began speaking in what was meant to be hushed tones.

It was loud enough to hear.

"Don't tell me you've lost your nerve. Why did you suggest we approach her if you're going to chicken out? Your confidence has dissolved like tissue dipped into water?" one girl exclaimed.

"What do you want me to say?" another replied, a hint of frustration evident in her tone.

"Humaira, just ask! What's the harm in shooting your shot? She's nice! You could simply ask if she could introduce you to her brother, the one who brought her today. What's difficult about that?"

My brain fried. It went kam bala'i as a scorching heat began filling it up. An inferno roared to life within me, so sudden that I could practically wager Amna that smoke was curling out of my ears.

...

Hello Assalamu Alaikum. I hope we're all doing well?

Am I allowed to say Ramadan Mubarak just yet? Well, I hope we live to see this year's most coveted month, ensure we spend it the best way possible.

Allahumma Ballighna Laylatul Qadr❤️

See you after Eid, In Shaa Allah❤️.

With love,
NanaAmiinah🤍