Hey guys! Here's my second chapter, hope you're enjoying ❤️

I slid into the passenger seat of Ibty's car, the smell of vanilla-scented air freshener filling the car and the soft hum of the engine soothing me. Ibty and I had been friends for as long as I could remember. We practically grew up side by side, sharing the same street, the same school, and even the same late-night secrets. Despite her being two months older than me, sometimes I felt like we were twins—just born to different mothers.

"So, where are we going?" I asked, glancing over at her. Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel as she drove, her eyes focused on the road.

"I thought you were craving ice cream," she said with a teasing smile.

"Yeah, but where?" I asked, looking out the window as we passed the familiar streets of our neighborhood. I was in the mood for something sweet, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something about today felt off. Maybe it was the conversation I'd had with Mammy earlier, or the strange encounter I'd had at the mall last week. My mind kept wandering, but I pushed it away. Ice cream was supposed to fix everything.

Ibty let out an exaggerated sigh. "Cold Stone, Leyla! You seriously ask too many questions. Allah Allah!"

I rolled my eyes and laughed. She was just like that—always the one to get exasperated over the smallest things, but I could tell she was joking. I wasn't about to let her off the hook, though. "Well, I had to make sure," I teased. "It's Cold Stone, huh? I can't argue with that."

We finally arrived at Cold Stone in Wuse II, a small but always bustling spot that was perfect for catching up over a big bowl of ice cream. We parked and walked in, immediately greeted by the cold air that hit us like a wall. I loved the atmosphere here—the chatter, the music playing in the background, and the soft clinking of spoons against bowls. It was the kind of place that made you feel like time didn't matter.

We found a small booth by the corner, and I offered to go order. I didn't need to be told twice—I was already drooling over the thought of their signature sweet cream ice cream mixed with chocolate chips and sprinkles.

💙

After a few minutes of waiting in line, I was finally at the counter ordering. The cool air of the shop was a welcome relief from the heat outside, and I felt my thoughts wandering back to the conversation with Mammy earlier. "You know, Leyla, you're almost 20. Have you thought about marriage?" She'd asked, her tone so casual. I remember thinking, Why is everyone so obsessed with this? I'm barely even out of my teens! But as usual, Mammy didn't want to hear it.

I quickly shoved those thoughts aside as I grabbed our two pints of ice cream and made my way back to the table, trying to shake off the awkward tension in my mind.

And then it happened.

I wasn't paying attention when I bumped into something—or rather, someone. The impact knocked me back slightly, and before I could react, my ice cream splashed directly onto a man's shirt. I gasped, completely mortified. My eyes immediately dropped to the mess I had caused—chocolate and vanilla ice cream staining his bright red Manchester United jersey.

"Oh my gosh!" I stammered, my heart racing as I fumbled to apologize. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there!"

The man's voice was low but surprisingly calm. "Ya salam! It's okay, but you really need to watch where you're going, young lady." He sounded like he was trying to be patient, but I could tell there was a hint of amusement behind his words. He grabbed a napkin from the counter and began dabbing at his shirt, but I couldn't help but notice how his movements were so effortless—like he was used to being the center of attention.

I looked up at him, and the first thing I noticed were his eyes. Brown. Deep, warm, and sharp. They felt like they were reading me, and I didn't know how to react. His jawline was strong, the kind that made you think of a chiseled sculpture, and his sideburns—man, those sideburns—were perfectly groomed, making him look like he just stepped out of a magazine. And don't even get me started on his lips. They were full and looked like they could say something sarcastic and witty at the same time.

"I'm really sorry again," I mumbled, still staring at his shirt as if it might magically fix itself.

"It's okay, really," he said, offering a small smile. There was something about him that made my heart skip a beat, and I wasn't sure if I should be embarrassed or intrigued. Either way, I couldn't stop thinking about how attractive he was. But I didn't want to dwell on it. I quickly returned to the table, my pulse racing.

As I sat down, I tried to keep my face neutral, but I knew Ibty could read me like a book. She looked me up and down, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Who was that guy?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

I let out a breath, pretending to be clueless. "Which guy?"

"The one you were talking to!" She pressed, crossing her arms over her chest.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress the small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "Oh, that? It's a long story."

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to spill. And so, I did. I told her everything that had happened in the brief moments since I'd bumped into Mr. Perfect. As we walked out of Cold Stone and back to the car, I couldn't shake the image of him. He'd left a mark on me that I hadn't expected, and I didn't know if it was because of the way he looked or the way he'd handled the situation with so much grace.

We drove around Central for a while, the car's tires humming against the asphalt as Ibty put on some old-school Arabic songs, the kind that made me feel both nostalgic and at peace. I could feel the tension in my shoulders ease up, though my thoughts kept returning to the man I had just met.

When we reached home, I noticed an unfamiliar car parked in our driveway. My curiosity piqued, I walked inside, hearing voices from the living room. Probably Daddy and his friends again. I made my way past them and straight to Mammy's room. She was on her prayer mat, speaking to someone on the phone in Turkish.

I didn't want to disturb her, so I went to my room and quickly changed into my favorite bunny pajamas—pink and ash. I climbed into bed and grabbed my MacBook, starting an episode of Reign to distract myself from my wandering thoughts.

But even as I tried to get lost in the drama of the show, my mind kept circling back to the guy at Cold Stone. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd ever see him again.

After a few episodes, I paused the show and went to pray Isha. As I knelt on the prayer mat, I could feel my heart racing again—not from anything spiritual, but from the memory of his eyes.

I didn't know what it meant, but I knew I couldn't forget about him.

Hey guys🙋 I'm sorry this is a really short chapter! Really do enjoy❤️❤️

Vote
Comment
Share

Love you always💛