R e m i n d e r: If you have to pray then pray first and then read. This chapter will be here, but your time is running and it will not return.

| NOTE |

Please read the previous chapter and chapter # 4: Thundering Hearts, for a better understanding of the current chapter.

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْم
In The Name Of God, The Most Gracious,  The Most Merciful

⊱ ⋆ ⊰

He dries his hair with the crisp white towel while his eyes admire the view of the lively city from the full glass windows of his lounge. But the serenity doesn't last long as the door loudly bangs open.

"So you finally made a move on her, mi  astuto amigo?" Ivan postulates with a teasing smirk wrecking his lips.

(my sly friend)

Alarmed, Kyle snaps his head to the door and glowers at the Spanish man, regretting his earlier decision to hand Ivan the spare card key to his room. With a huff escaping his lips and eyes rolling, he redirects his attention to the city.

Ivan then welcomes himself inside and plops down on the couch with the same smirk plastering on his face and eyes on his bandmate enticed with mischievousness he first entered with.

"So?" Interest on the peak, Moreno asks.

The midnight-haired throws a side glance at him and then at the bag he got at the other end of the maroon settee. With long steps, he picks it up and ambles inside his room with the damp towel in his other hand.

"'So' what?"

"So spit it out, yo!" The brown-haired man watches him gently putting the bag on his dresser. "Where did you take her?! Nearby city club?" He yells, then hears Kyle chuckle from the bathroom.

"You think I'd be here in one piece if I did that?" Amusedly, Vincent retorts, entering the living area with his laundry. "She herself would have dug my grave then and there."

Ivan chuckles. "I don't doubt it. I don't doubt it." He watches him crouching next to his suitcase by the window, placing his folded dirty laundry clothes in a transparent bag. "You know, you can give your laundry to the housekeepers, and they'll clean it for you."

"I know, but I don't trust them with my clothes."

"It's a seven-star hotel, Kyle" He deadpans.

"I still don't."

Ivan throws his head back and snorts.

After a moment, Kyle joins him on the settee.

"I also got an Executive Suite, but yours is much nicer. Not to mention it smells nice--"

"I always smell nice." The midnight-haired man cuts Moreno, winking at him, causing him to roll his eyes.

"--while mine now smells like a pig house. Thanks to our drunken friend, Alan."

Kyle shakes his head as his eyes survey the notifications on his mobile screen. Two missed calls from his mother. And three texts from Evangeline.

"By the way," Ivan readjusts his position, now facing his bandmate. "you still haven't told me where you took her and how your night went."

This time Kyle looks at him with a lopsided smile. "She took me to the Hagia Sophia. And the night? Well, I slept on the floor while she prayed, and when I woke up, she was bawling."

Silence.

Then a loud cackle erupts from Ivan's throat as the revelation finally processed in his mind, while Kyle turns back to his phone with the same grin. Ivan wipes the small tear leaking from his eyes out of laughing.

"Well, we can't expect anything less from her. But why was she crying?"

"That is a mystery to me as well."

"Did you say anything to her?!" Instantly, Ivan straightens up in his seat and goes offensive, shooting murderous arrows with his eyes.

"I did not."

"You must have."

"I did not." Kyle lazily replies as he reads the first text.

Eva: Hi! How was your flight?

Eva: I am here in Istanbul for a recent project. Think we can meet up?

Eva: It'll be good to see you after a long time. Well, not long. We met only a month ago. But still! :)) Let me know!

A smile sprawls on his lips. His eyes linger on the screen for a few more moments before his fingers begin to type.

Ivan exhales a sigh. "Regardless, your petty little adventure is making us pay the consequences too." He shakes his head dejectedly while throwing a dirty look at his bandmate's way. And when Kyle ignores him, busy texting, a rush of agitation coarse in Ivan's veins. "I AM TALKING TO YOU, VINCENT!" He slaps the back of Kyle's head.

"HEY!" Kyle glowers.

"Thanks to your messed up brain, the security has now been so strict I am fearing that it's about time they'll follow me to the toilet too!" Sweetly yet sickly, Ivan drawls out his words, then stands up and strolls to the full-length mirror near the main door. "And now Alan is not fulfilling the wages of his defeat since Vanessa has set up four guards for each one of us," He gives a final touch to his hair, then glances at Kyle through the mirror. "and they are not letting us go anywhere."

Shyly Vincent smiles and mumbles a small sorry.

"But you'll make him one way or the other."

"Obviously."

Ivan resumes his walk to the door. Twisting the knob, he stops and turns his head back around. "Are you not coming for breakfast, lad?"

"Go on without me. I need to make a quick call to Mom."

Nodding his head, the Spanish man leaves the room. And as he leaves, Kyle heaves a sigh. His lips stretch into a small smile. Then pressing the phone to his ear, he drags his feet to the window, capturing the view of the city again.

A few beeps follow up for a few seconds before the woman in early forty picks up. They exchange warm greetings.

"I was fearing you might be asleep. I didn't want to disturb you." Kyle says, his tone as soft as silk.

"No, do not fret yourself. I was up." Janet replies as she settles herself on the couch, adjusting the warm fleece over her form.

"But why? Isn't it quite late at night over there." He furrows his eyebrows.

The woman meloncholy smiles, eyeing the set of papers on the coffee table. "Yes, it is."

Kyle purses his lips. The tone of her voice hints to him that something is off. But she doesn't say so herself. And he doesn't push her to do so. Instead, he changes the topic.

"So, what did you do in the morning?"

Janet takes a breath. "The usual. I went to the library in the morning. Then came back, cooked food, and rested for a while." She takes a pause. "Remember Mrs. Harris?"

"Yes, our neighbor whom you were very fond of."

The direct reply makes her chuckle. Her son is always like this. Brutally honest sometimes. "Of course, I am still very fond of her. While you were away, we used to go out for daily walks and all." Janet clicks her tongue. Her sapphire orbs shine under the white pendant lights. "Apparently, she moved out yesterday."

Kyle remains quiet for a second. His heart twists in pain. "I see. Don't worry, though. I'll be back in New York after a few days, so you won't be lonely."

"Nonsense. Who said I am lonely?"

He hates-- absolutely despises the fact that she builds up a façade, even in front of him. And who is she trying to deceive when the midnight sky has witnessed her longingly looking at the stars it holds, the fidgeting of her fingers, and the tears she tries not to shed?

Perhaps her own self.

When silence overcomes them for a few moments, Janets breaks the ice.

"Did you receive the wedding invitation from your father?" The woman asks, her voice barely a whisper.

Kyle frowns. "I did."

"I assume you will be going." She tests the water, conspicuously aware of what the answer will be.

"No." The vocalist flatly declines. His mood turns sour.

"Go, Kyle. She is your sister." She urges. Her tone drowns in softness and love.

"Half-sister."

"Kyle--"

"Mom, you've forgiven that man, but please," Bitterness-- bitterness is all that he feels and what his words are filled with. Yet he still manages to not let his anger gash out on his mother as the memories mock him. "don't expect me to do the same."

"He is your father, Kyle."

He snorts, his form enwraps in rage. Kyle watches the moving cars with a clenched jaw. But how long can he suppress the fire from anguishing and igniting everything that comes in its way?

"Father? What did that said father ever do good to you? By giving birth to bastard children behind your back? By divorcing you when you needed him the most? Forsakening me when I needed him the most?!"

"Kyle! Watch your mouth. He is still your father!" Janet yells loudly. "Whatever he did to me is between me and him. I have forgiven him! Who are you to speak in between us?!"

Silence.

His form freezes. His eyes widen. Janet had raised her voice at him. She rarely ever did. And when she realizes, streams of tears pool out from her eyes.

"I am sorry, my son." She places her hand over her lips, muffling her cries. "I am so sorry."

"Get married, Mom." A voice, barely audible, escapes his lips.

The woman chuckles in between her cries.

"He has left us. He has moved on. He has married another woman. He has gotten another family, and he is happy with them." A lump forms in his throat. How can a truth sound more bitter? His vision turns blurry. Kyle blinks his eyes and a fresh drop of tear rolls down his cheek. "It's been years. Move on, Mom. It's n--never too late." His voice breaks.

She gazes at the coffee table. 'Never too late', huh? Ironic; she finds it now.

"I promise I'll look out for the best suitor for you. Date him. Find yourself again. Let him love you, and let yourself be loved." The vocalist pleads. "Please."

But the woman chuckles. "Dating is a game of heart, my love. It's like an auction. The bidder may clutch it with thorns and crush it until it turns into countless pieces. Or If you're lucky enough, the bidder may grasp the heart gently and fills it with the stream of love and be yours forever till your last breath."

Why does it feel to him as if he's talking to a certain brown-haired girl? Kyle frowns.

"You think I'll let him crush you, Mom? I will wreck that man if he hurts a single strand of your hair." He fists his hand in fury. "Before, I was a helpless boy, adding more of a burden on you. Bu--"

"You were never a burden, Kyle. Don't say that. It pains me." Her lips wobble. Janet resists the urge to cry. "You're the best thing that happened to me, my son."

"Then let me help you."

"I have moved on, my son. I have. I have welded the broken pieces of my heart and stitched them back to my bosom. But please--- don't make me go through all that again. I can't. I--" She licks her lips, swallowing hard. "I don't think I'll be able to carry myself back again if it breaks again. It is a risk. And I am not strong enough to take it."

Another tear rolls down his cheek, kissing his stubble as it slides down. The red veins manifest in his eyes. What an agony it is! He can't even hug her when she is soo-- vulnerable; when she needs him now, he is not even there to aid her. It pains him. It pains him as if acid is being poured over him. So how can he love, let alone reconcile his relationship with a man who is the reason behind her suffering?

Janet wipes her face. "Leave me. Tell me about yourself. What about you?" She sniffs. "Did you find anyone special?"

He smiles the smallest of smiles. "I think I do."

A full-blown grin blossoms on her face, thinking of the girl's name, picturing her warmly smiling-- just like she always does when she meets her. "Tell me who?"

"Evangeline."

"Oh." The smile slightly falters.

"She is a choreographer. In fact, I wil-- wait, is something wrong?"

"Huh? N-no, no. It's just-- I was thinking of someone else."

The corners of his lips curve up. "Someone else?" He reclines back on the window, his back facing the world.

"Yeah, I thought Wafa. Since you two are always together, and you do fancy her a little differently than others."

"Fancy?" Kyle lets out an amused laugh upon hearing the choice of her mother's words. "She is just a close friend. Nothing more."

Lier. His heart shouts.

She is just a friend, for I have no romantic feelings for her. His brain retorts.

But the chest tightness and the heart pricks. Lies.

"I see. So where did you meet Evangeline?" His mother asks.

Kyle jumbles his mind for the memory, but the only memory flashes in front of his eyes when a certain someone was called to sing with him after about two months when he first went to audition. She was the only female singer who was not grouped. So Jolyn proposed they'd group her with three boys and make a band of four singers-- even though it never happened before, they were the first to make history.

Kyle blinks his eyes. "Probably at a party or an event, I guess."

The mother-son continues conversing on random topics. As Kyle is mostly the one narrating the stories, Janet's eyes flutter to shut, replying small with a 'hmm' or 'I see'.

"Mom, you look so tired. Please take some rest."

Janet chuckles. "You can't even see me."

"I can from the lens of my heart." He grins.

A comfortable silence passes over them.

"Kyle."

"Yes?"

"Don't break ties with those whom we have or had ever bonded. Please. A tree can never remain strong when all of its branches are cut. It will eventually become weak and diseased." Her lips wobble, and her voice breaks, but she gathers herself, for she can't always be weak. "As a single parent, I did everything I could to raise you into a human with heart and emotions. I gave everything of myself when it came to your upbringing. And I--" Her nose stings and her eyes again wells up. "I am proud of who you have become, my son. You are my pride and my honor, Kyle Vincent." A new type of beauty adorns her, a natural type: flushed cheeks from crying, pink nose, and red lips. "So choose what is right. You are a grown man with a sense of right and wrong."

"I will." He feels a shiver down his spine as he realizes the enormity of the responsibility. He must make a choice, and whatever he decides, he will be responsible for the consequences. It's a terrible position to be in, but he can't blame anyone else. He knows he must make choices about his life and his decisions, even though they weigh heavily on him.

"Goodnight, Mom."

"And Kyle?"

"Yes?"

"Just because your mother was a failure when it came to love, don't become hopeless because of her. Love is a beautiful feeling. An enigma in its mysterious ways." Janet struggles to keep her tears at bay. "So when you find someone beautiful to make you whole and to grow old with, cherish her for every second of your life. Even if I am not around, remember my words, my son. Have a-- a good day."

"Wh--"

Eyebrows furrowed, mouth agape, he stares at his screen.

His mother has cut the call.

For a few seconds, he only stares at it in shock, processing her words. Kyle calls her again, but it goes unanswered.

'Even If I am not around' What does she mean by that? Does she expect me to embrace the same kind of love that caused her inner destruction? He exhales a sigh. I want to love; true I want to feel it, experience it, cherish it, but-- do I want to do it the way she did by making that person the sole reason for her existence, the purpose of her life? This-- doesn't seem right. This is foolishness. This is madness. But then again-- what is the right way if not it?

The woman, on the other hand, cries hysterically. The reports on her coffee table steal away daylight out of her eyes.

Breast Cancer: Positive
Stage: II

⁂|                   |⁂

Awestruck. That's the feeling that overpowers her.

Wafa gazes at her reflection. Eyes widen, lips parted, she studies herself intently, admiring the soft glamourous makeup etched to her skin. The lights of the mirror bestow the sparkle on her dress which flows like the waterfall, serene, calm, and lustrously. Her lens then slides down to admire the diamond pendant resting over her clavicle bone, where the neckline embellished with different shining stones begins.

She smiles. Her designer, Taylor McAdams, truly outdid herself, and so did the makeup artist. Wafa sighs as her eyes adhered to the mirror.

Khubsurat. Buhat hi zaida.

(beautiful. Very much so)

Wafa loves the way everything turned out. She has no complaints. The vocalist strictly apprised the makeup artist not to create any illusions of a slimmer nose or fuller lips, or to sharpen her jawline than it already is. Instead, she asked her to enhance her naturally gifted features, for she is rebellious in this case. She doesn't want to be a puppet of societal norms. She doesn't want to be its slave. And so she shall never be.

Indeed it was a long road to accept herself the way she was created by Al-Hakeem, The Most Wise. In the past twenty months, working under Seiga and performing under the spotlight, Wafa has realized if she begins to follow the trends, eventually down the line, she will most certainly lose her original self in the haze. And for this, she must hold onto what she truly is, her morals, her ethics, and her deen.

No more complaints. No more ungratefulness.

"It's time to leave." Sofia enters the dressing room.

Wafa sees her in the mirror. The secretary smiles, and the vocalist nods. The vocalist then reaches over her light grey purse, pulls out a long black shawl, and drapes it around her body. She can feel the back of her head being burned in holes by her secretary's looks. Confirming her doubts, Wafa glances at the mirror, finding a certain look on Sofia's visage.

Judgment.

The brown-haired maiden looks down smiling as blood gushes to her cheeks. Without turning over to Sofia, she walks out of the room. She has pulled two stunts in one day. And truthfully? Her heart is hammering against her ribcage, for she is slightly scared to meet her manager like this. Her hands go clammy.

When the dawn emerged, Wafa returned to the hotel, she anticipated some yelling, some drama, or some detention-- but received none, just an enormous amount of guards tailing her since. She hasn't met Mark the entire day after the marathon. On the other hand, she has come across her manager a couple of times, and the said boss lady has not uttered a single word to her which is even terrifying.

Wafa goes to the stand where the boys are waiting for her. People eye her up and down, including her friends. But the vocalist doesn't even bother looking at them, masking her inner fear. Yet the tension in the body can easily be witnessed by the tightness of her fingers, grasping both ends of the shawl from the front. The diamonds adorned on her fingers glitter in the process.

This is the first time she has covered herself with the shawl before reaching the event.

The lady manager walks up to her. Wafa smiles.

"What is this?"

"A beautiful chador." The vocalist cheekily replies with a grin.

Vanessa gives her a sharp look. "We're going for the charity event, not a religious place to worship." She dryly mocks.

Her words sear Wafa's chest. It takes a second to fix her composure to retort, but the Spanish man beats her to it.

"Vanessa," He holds his manager's shoulders and then relishes his signature charm. "I heard anger can also be a sign of wrinkles. Now, come on, we don't want you looking old at the party?"

"You better take this disgusting thing off before we reach the venue. There'll be many news anchors and paparazzi. Do not create another scene." Vanessa directs her sternly, resuming to walk away with Ivan.

Wafa swallows thickly. Shame, she has drowned in it, clutching her chador tightly, yet the smile does not waver from her lips. Ivan throws a sympathetic look at her from over his shoulders.

And though she has been insulted in front of everyone, regardless, the vocalist ambles to her ride with dignity and her head held high. A perfect façade.

"Show time."

⊱ ⋆ ⊰

|  QUR'ANIC VERSE |

Your Lord has decreed that you worship none but Him, and do good to parents. If any one of them or both of them reach old age, do not say to them: uff (a word or expression of anger or contempt) and do not scold them, and address them with respectful words

-Surah -Al Isra

| AUTHOR'S NOTE |

I love Kyle and Janet's relationship. In a world where parents aren't respected the way they are supposed to be, I wanted to motivate you guys and enlighten you that there is still light in this world, and there is still good.

It also reminds me how Prophet Yaqub (peace be upon him)(Jacob) advised his son Prophet Yusuf (peace be upon him)(Joseph) before he was faced with numerous trials. First, his brothers schemed to get rid of him, then he was thrown into the well where he found himself in fear for his life. This was followed by his becoming a slave sold like an inanimate object, having no say in the matter, and losing all the care and love of his parents. He then faced temptation and seduction, followed by the wicked scheming of his master's wife and her fellow women. He then had to endure long imprisonment after having lived comfortably in a palace. Yet with all of that, he still held onto his father's words.

PS: I have changed Seiga's Headquarters from Texas to New York. Lol. I couldn't find where I have mentioned being in Texas. Please, let me know if you found it because I couldn't for editing.

May God make us not be those who oppress or those being oppressed.

#AafiyaMovement
#FreeAafiya

- W A L I Y A