بسْمِ ٱللَّٰهِ ٱلرَّحْمَٰنِ ٱلرَّحِيمِ
In The Name Of Allah, The Most Beneficent, The Most Merciful

⊱ ⋆ ⊰

The wind lightly and calmly blows, peeking by the glass windows, finding her seated on posh couches in the lobby. The stars gleam brighter, hoping to distract her from her agony to its charming and luring beauty. They want her to lose herself while gazing at them, admiring them, providing temporary refuge to her in them, but Wafa doesn't let them steal her attention as her lens scrutinizes the lines displayed on her tablet screen over and over.

Aside from the hostility experienced by the Velvet members from the residents of Mombassa, we were still successful in donating fifteen percent of the profit from the Anniversary concert... Seiga is pledging to pay fifteen percent more to the hospital from its personal funding, hoping that it will diminish the sentiments of hostility towards Seiga from Kenyans.

She heaves a sigh, but the smile remains intact on her visage.

Manipulators. That's all she can think of them.

Seiga is pledging to pay fifteen percent more to the hospital from its personal funding.

Wafa jerks her head up as the sudden clatter hits her eardrums.

Kyle puts the glass of caramel fudge iced coffee on the round coffee table for her, then sits on the saddle arm of the cream couch, adjusted opposite to hers.

The vocalist turns off her tablet and mutters a thank you before sipping. She then absentmindedly swirls her drink with a numb smile.

"Do you know the fifteen percent from which they paid?" Wafa sardonically chuckles. Bitterness is evident in her voice as she says 'they'. "Five percent from the profit earned and ten percent for my money. And the remaining pledged from their personal funding--"

"That'll probably never be donated." Kyle finishes for her. Ruffling his hair, he shakes his head with a clenched jaw. "You shouldn't have volunteered."

"I shouldn't have ever. But I fell for the trap and wanted to help." She looks at him, then steals her eyes away. "And, unluckily, it backfired."

He hates it when she's like this-- sad, for she used to remain carefree and jovial that watching her like this twists his heart in a painful grip.

Kyle doesn't like it.

Wafa takes a deep breath as she frees herself from the anguish burning in her heart and forgives Seiga for deceiving her. A believer is not bitten from the same hole twice, and she has learned her lesson. The vocalist knows she can not trust Seiga Incorporation again, for the ones running it aren't humans with soft hearts and feelings, but snakes ready to bite whenever they get the chance with hungry eyes, searching for their gain.

"Khair," The vocalist sits up and places her tablet on the coffee table. "I did it for a good reason. May my Lord accept it, for my attentions weren't to seek fame and praise."

(well)

She smiles again. This time it reaches her eyes, and it feels as if all the colorful flowers have blossomed and all the caterpillars have turned into graceful butterflies with enchanting colors.

He studies her for a moment, then focuses on his drink.

One sentence, and yet he can feel the peace, the tranquility radiating from her form as if she has taken off all of her burdens and entrusted to Someone Whom she knows will help her and take care of her.

A spark lights up in his heart. Kyle wonders what will it feel like to trust Someone. To not take everything on his shoulders and worry about how to lighten its weight? Is it true? Can he trust?

Will I ever trust-- even for a day or a single second?

But what he is forgetting is that sparks ignite rageful fires. And perhaps a tiny spark has already homed his heart.

"Why didn't you go out with everyone else? I heard they went clubbing." Wafa asks her as she lovingly admires her drink.

Her voice breaks his reverie. His mind screeches to a halt. "I--" Kyle looks anywhere but at her. "didn't feel like going."

Perhaps he should've gone. Perhaps extra drinks would've made it easy for him to sleep throughout the night. But the thought of having a moronic headache in the morning overcame his desire to sleep tonight.

Or perhaps it was just an excuse-- because he didn't want to leave her alone.

Upon hearing him, Wafa's face instantly lits up, but she tries to mask it. Keyword: Mask.

However, the traitorous part of her heart feels happy.

"Want me to drive you home?" Kyle asks her.

"Nah, I brought my own car."

When a few moments pass, Wafa looks at him questionably.

Kyle cocks an eyebrow at her, then begins scrolling through his mobile screen.

"Why aren't you leaving?" She tilts her head and inquires.

"Finish your drink. We'll leave together."

⁂| |⁂

The dew drops glisten under the goldish morning light of the sun, appearing as if the glittering diamond-like beads are sprawled on the lush green grass. He gracefully walks on the golf ground, his shades concealing his cat-like eyes.

An assistant then comes behind him with a basket of golf sticks. Grayson Hart picks one of them, inspecting it with a dashing smile. And the lady only swoons, shamelessly raking her eyes, etching his features in her memory.

And the amusement? He knows what the assistant is doing, quite used to experiencing this reaction by all the ladies-- except one, which makes his blood boil.

It mocks his ego.

True, Grayson is exceptionally blessed when it comes to outer physical beauty. But the same can't be said for his inner beauty, for it is dark and bitter, full of arrogance and ego.

Another assistant comes to him with a basket of balls. And when he passed her one of his charming smiles, flirting with her, tinges of blush coat her cheeks.

A vexed groan erupts from Alan's throat. "We're not shooting a film here, for God's sake!" The vocalist mutters under his breath as he rolls his eyes in annoyance.

Standing under the pergola, fully dressed with a golf stick in his grasp, Alan glares at Grayson's back. The chestnut-haired man wants to bang Grayson's head with the same stick for waking him at 6 AM to play golf in cold weather.

"Alan," Hart turns to the vocalist. "Take the first shot."

Finally, he got his head to what we actually came to do. Crankily, Alan thinks before walking up to him.

One thing is for sure: Alan Smith was never a morning person.

The two begin to play for an hour while exchanging casual talks until the sun is right above their heads. They then take a break, sitting under the shade of the pergola.

The temperature begins to rise, and beads of perspiration form on Alan's forehead. He opens the lid of the water bottle and gulps down the liquid greedily.

"Alan, I want another favor from you."

The vocalist turns his attention to Grayson, finding him seated opposite him. His elbows rest on his knees while his palms are clamped together.

"What is it?" The vocalist raises his eyebrow skeptically at him.

And the corner of Grayson's lips stretches upwards into a mischievous smirk.

"I want you to convince Wafa Sheikh to have dinner with me this Friday night."

So that's the bloody reason you called me here. Alan narrows his eyes at him. That @#*&! could've texted me that!

"I've also talked to Melissa about the inauguration of her firm." When a few moments pass, the vocalist doesn't say anything; Grayson softly voices out as he stands up from his spot. Devilry is glimmering in his cat-like eyes.

Upon hearing it, Alan's jaws tick in annoyance and anger. He, too, gets up, standing eye-to-eye with Grayson.

"Are you threatening me?" He spits.

"How can I ever threaten you, Alan? I'm just reminding you--" He fake dusts the vocalist's shoulder. "of your sister's career." Grayson smiles.

And Alan knows Grayson Hart is a sweet knife.

⁂| |⁂

"Grayson invited you to a dinner date with him."

"WHAT?!" Wafa loudly puts the water glass on the table.

Her secretary jumps up in horror at the sudden roar from Wafa.

"How the hell dare he?!" Wafa gets up and moronically strides inside the studio room out of stress and fury. "THE WIT OF THAT M--"

One day passed, and Wafa successfully ignored Alan-- until now. The two used to exchange greetings awkwardly, then Wafa would engage herself in work, and Alan would do the same without having a detailed conversation about anything the way they ordinarily would. Needless to say; things are still not perfectly clear between the two, and neither of them made any effort to do so.

"Hey, what's the commotion?" Ivan comes out of the control room, followed by Kyle.

"GRAYSON INVITED ME ON A DATE!" Wafa yells angrily, rubbing her face with her hands.

And Ivan falls into the pit of laughter but stops when he sees Wafa throwing murderous glares at him.

"That besharm, beghairat, be-haya just asked me TO GO ON A FREAKING DATE WITH HIM!" Wafa grits, going round and round the couch subconsciously, and Alan only wears the headsets to protect his ears from bleeding because of her screaming.

(indecent, dishonorable, immodest)

It's official. Wafa Hassan Sheikh has finally lost her cool.

She groans. "Astaghfirullah. He's the reason why my skin is having a breakout, eyebags under my eyes, and now filth is escaping my mouth for him!" Wafa begins to mutter the series of Astaghfirullah.

(I seek forgiveness in God)

"Seriously?" The Spanish man sits beside Alan and confirms the date news from him, pulling his headset off with amusement in his eyes.

"Yeah." The chestnut-haired man lazily replies as he slouches back on the comfy couches.

"Yo," Kyle stands in front of her with his hands in front of his chest, attempting to calm her, "sit down. You're walking so fast. I am scared the floor may crack."

Wafa halts in her tracks, then after taking a deep breath, she finally sits, but stops midair after hearing Alan snickering.

"Yeah, please. Quit overreacting and shut up. I'll probably get cancerous cells in my ears; if you continue any longer."

Wafa whips her head to Alan. Standing up, she counter-backs, "Then tell your friend to dig his own grave and invite his Angel of Death to have dinner with him, for all I care!"

For a second or two, deadly and deafening silence takes over the studio before all of them break into a howl of laughter, including Smith, except a raging vocalist with flaring nostrils and fury bubbling inside her.

Ivan is the first to recover from it. "Oh, come on. Maybe he's inviting you to apologize and to mend the relationship with you."

"He and I have no relationship, Ivan." Wafa snaps at him.

The Spanish man raises his in surrender and then turns to Smith. "When did he invite her?" He asks him.

"Friday night." The chestnut-haired man stifles a yawn.

"Oh, good! You have a perfect excuse." Ivan claps his hands together. "We'll be on a flight to Istanbul for the charity event."

"Ivan, I do not need an excuse." The vocalist grits. "And I do not have time for people like him. If Grayson Hart so wants to apologize or say anything to me, then tell him to mail it to my secretary."

The 'oohs' and 'burn' booms in the room with a mewling of 'hey' from Sofia with a pout.

"Looks like she has taken the grudge too deeply." Micheal elbows Kyle.

"I don't think it's about the grudge. Even I can't stand his presence, to be honest." The midnight-haired man shrugs nonchalantly.

"With all the fame and fortune, he lacks respect for women. And that makes him zero in my eyes, absolutely no worth." Wafa tells. "I, too, can't stand his presence, even if it all clears up." Disgust drips from her words.

Argh, I am again bad-mouthing that man, Astaghfirullah. The vocalist purses her lips. Wo admi tou yaqeenan meray liye aik fitnah hi hai.

(that man is definitely a trial for me)

⁂| |⁂

Is the blanket of darkness enveloping the night more eerie or the shallowness of his heart?

Kyle hums the music he is listening to and gazes outside the window sill of the hallway.

Is the deepest pit of the ocean more deserted or his soul?

His lens focuses on the vial in his grasp. He twists the lid open-- but closes it back. He wants to feel the burn of this drug, but at the same time, he wants to run away from it. He wants it, but he wants to escape the clutches of it.

The vocalist turns off the music and exhales a tired sigh. How long has it been since he last slept a peaceful night without taking any pills?

When did he last sleep all night with no thoughts screaming in his mind?

Kyle smiles and shakes his head.

Perhaps it doesn't matter. I have gone too far to come back now.

He twists open the lid again. But when a clicking of the door knob from behind him graces his ears, Kyle immediately conceals the vial in his pocket and snaps his head to the source as he tippy-toed behind the large vase.

The door opens, and his eyes go round as he finds Wafa bobbing her head out, looking to her right and left.

The vocalist tilts his head. It looks as if she has stolen something and is now making a run for it.

But who would steal something from their own room? Kyle internally smacks his head.

"What are you doing?"

Wafa clutches her chest. A loud gasp escapes her, the color drains from her face, and her soul leaves her body-- until her lens clashes with his face that she regains her breathing.

He comes out from his hiding. Maybe she is stealing. Amusingly, Kyle muses as he leans by the wall and eyes the shopping bag, grasped by her fingers securely.

"W-what-- why are you up?" Wafa stammers.

"What are you stealing?" He blurts out mischievously.

"Huh?" The vocalist stares at him as if he has discarded his brain onto the floor. "Kyle, this is my hotel room. I have paid for it."

Heat rises in his body, and he can feel his ears are on fire while turning a bloody red hue. Kyle fake coughs while ambling back towards the window sill.

Meanwhile, Wafa lets out a defeated sigh with slouched shoulders. She has been caught red-handed, and there is no going without telling him now.

She walks behind him. "I am escaping to go sightseeing." The vocalist lets out.

Her bandmate stops in his tracks and turns back to face her. "Yeah, right. Go sightsee the lobby and come back up" Rolling his eyes, he mutters before continuing to walk.

"All right," Cheerfully, the maiden salutes him with two fingers. "Goodbye."

She turns in her direction only to be pulled back by the tug of her bag.

"Hey!"

Kyle lets go of her bag. "What is the heck? You're actually going? But where?"

"There." Wafa cheerfully points from the window glass to the tall building with lit domes and minarets standing proudly.

And for the second time this night, his eyes go round.

"Are you aware what hour it is?!"

"Yes," The vocalist turns on her phone and shoves the screen to her bandmate's face. "It's 3:14 AM!"

Kyle facepalms. Shaking his head, he looks at Wafa as if she has gone nuts.

"What?" Wafa inquires defensively. "You know how we were kept in our rooms for the past twelve hours with crazy security and how our fans gathered outside our windows? Even If I get the chance," The vocalist rambles, "which I am pretty sure I won't, the mass of the crowd will never let me enjoy and explore there. So let's go!"

Then as another second passes, the corner of his lips flies upwards, forming a perfect grin.

"Let's go then."

Wafa's face lits up. "Great!"

He looks at the historic building and rubs his stubble thoughtfully. "Considering how late it has gotten, I highly doubt we can get a cab."

"Ugh," Wafa waves her hand dismissively, informing him cheerfully as if talking about something beneficial and not life-threatening. "--without a doubt, we can't find it. Look," She opens the GPS on her phone, "it's just an eight walk from our hotel. Plus you'll be with me, so it's cool." She raises her two fingers in a peace sign and smiles coolly, leaving the poor guy dumbstruck.

Vincent deadpans. "Wafa, I am not a superhero. I don't fly off to the sunset and save the girl. What if there are rapists and druggies on the street?" He flicks her forehead, but she steps back just in time to save herself.

"Fine. I'll look for a cab." Wafa grunts, pulling her phone out from her pocket for the nth time this night.

"Honestly, I sometimes can't believe you." Shaking his head, Kyle mutters. "It hasn't even been a month since you got assaulted by some @#$%, and now you want to throw yourself in the arms of other @#$%!"

Wafa rolls her eyes, cringing at his vocabulary.

But she knows he has got a point.

"And how do you plan on ditching that creepy ass man there?" He lazily asks while gesturing to her with his eyes at the bulky man in a black uniform with a badge on the left side of his chest, standing at the end of the other side of the hallway.

Kyle can easily recognize him. Seiga's trained guard.

"What is wrong with your tongue, Vincent?!" She whisper-yells, finally taking her eyes from the mobile screen, then lets it clash with his. And that's when she realizes how easily she can see the gaps between his eyelashes.

And that's when it dawns on her. They are standing -- too close.

Wafa abruptly jumps back from him. To her utmost horror, her bag collides with the large vase in the process, causing it to sway. And tonight, for the second time, color drains from her face, and her soul half leaves her body.

The maiden quickly grabs it before it crashes to the ground. Had it crumbled into tiny pieces because of her, Wafa is certain she would have paid at least a thousand dollars as compensation.

The vocalist idiotically laughs as beads of sweat trickle down her forehead while chanting Alhumdulillah. Then turns back to face her horrified-looking bandmate.

(praise be to God)

"Kia doray parh jatay hain itna qareeb a ker merey sath chupaknay ki?" Wafa shrieks.

"Huh, What?" Jaw touching the floor, the black-haired man is just baffled. "I don't have a degree in your language. And what's with your seizure attacks."

Coincidentally, they sometimes think alike.

Jub Urdu hi bolni nahi ati tou degree kahan ki? Grumpily, the vocalist thinks. "Just put on a hoodie, a P-cap, and a massive facemask. I'll take care of the rest."

(when you don't know how to speak Urdu then what is the degree?)

.

.

.

.

"Wafa?"

"Hmm?"

"What is the place called anyway?"

"The Blue Masjid. My main reason to travel Istanbul."

⊱ ⋆ ⊰

| HADITH |

'Uqbah ibn 'Amir reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, "Beware of entering the homes of women alone." A man from the Ansar said, "What about sisters-in-law?" The Prophet said, "Entering upon them is deadly serious."

-Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī 5232

| AUTHOR'S NOTE |

Amazing! Alhumdulillah, four scenes in one chapter! Wohoo!! Thanks again for your love and support!

I am also working on the next chapter of The Man Who Saw The Devil. If you have not checked it out, do so! It's a Muslim Historical Novel that I'm working on by Allah's Grace.

- W A L I Y A H