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

⊱ ⋆ ⊰

"I heard Seiga has decided to deduct ten percent of the total charity for the Kenyan hospital." 

Vanessa peers at her from under her eyelashes and leisurely sips her tea.

"I also heard that the videos will not air. The awareness videos, filmed in Kenya."

"And from where have you overheard this?"

Wafa remains impassive. She clenches the rooftop railings of the headquarters. The serene wind picks up its speed and tickles the side of her face. Albeit it carries serenity, it doesn't bring tranquility to her heart, for her insides burn in vexation.

"It doesn't matter where I've found out about it." The vocalist grits.

"Well," The manager uncrosses her legs and abandons the magazine on the table as she stands up.

The brown-haired sees her walking toward her. Her woodsy lens observes her. There is a reason why people can't manage to maintain eye contact with Vanessa Elrod. Indeed, the way she carries herself around is peculiar. There is nothing warm in her aura. Rather, it is frosty and somewhat-- intimidating.

"that is the order by the CEO Hayashi."

Wafa inhales, attempting to calm herself from lashing out at her manager, for this will bring no benefit but only detriments. "Why Vanessa?"

Vanessa, standing adjacent to Wafa, raises an eyebrow at her before gazing back at the view in front of her. "Pity that you are inquiring me regarding this. I did not expect it from you. Or perhaps it was the most expected thing by you."

The vocalist doesn't utter a word, continuing to glare at her manager with her deadly eyes, her lips pressing in a thin line.

The manager side glances at her. A devious smile plays on her features as she turns to Wafa. "Kenyan police failed to ensure your safety barbarically. Do you still think they deserve the money you earned from your performance?"

Wafa narrows her eyes at her. "Certainly, the money I made will not go to my pocket but to Seiga, Vanessa," She retorts.

The manager glares at her. Regardless, the vocalist continues without cowering.

"And about them being deserving; we are not paying the police but to the hospital where the local cancerous children will proceed to operate further because of those funds."

"It is not wise for you to bite the hand that feeds you, Wafa Hassan Sheikh," Vanessa says, dusting the vocalist's shoulders. "Don't forget that it is because of Seiga that from being a no-name teenager, you are now a millionaire and famous among the billions."

Now it is Wafa smiling deviously. Slightly tilting her head, she leans toward her manager. "I was destined to be a millionaire and destined to be popular among the billions. And as for Seiga, the organization plays a ladder in my life story. It was supposed to choose me."

Elrod clicks her tongue, retreating her hand from clutching her shoulder. "You shouldn't get haughty now. That said organization can bring you to your knees and make you run in the streets worse than a tired donkey." She purrs.

"Who said having a firm belief in The Divine Decree makes me haughty? Were my Lord to humiliate me or grant me honor, who is Seiga to stand up against The Master of the Heavens and the Earth? " Wafa holds her manager's gaze defyingly.

The wind no longer circles them happily as terror seeps into it. True, not many people have the wit in them to look into Elrod's frosty eyes for long, and Wafa will be her second exceptional case. The thought brings a smile to Vanessa's face.

"Khair, I was not here to discuss my beliefs," Wafa says with a wave of her hand. "Just let the CEO know I am willing to pay the remaining ten percent with my own money or more if needed for the children's treatment."

(well)

"Ask Jo Lin to do it. Why would you even come to me?" The manager narrows her eyes.

Wafa begins to step inside but stops as she hears Vanessa. She snaps her head in her direction. "Why?" A mischievous smile blossoms on her face. "Do you not have a special relationship with Kyoya Hiyashi? Or ever had? I assumed you'd be perfect to persuade the CEO"

With that, the vocalist leaves the lady.

The clock ticks. The time passes. And the sun which was all in its glory-- now inclines to set, causing different hues to birth on the sky.

She bites her thumb, her eyes scrutinizing the letters she has written. The black ink dries on the crisp white paper, and she throws hesitant glances at the man sitting comfortably on the couch, nibbling the guava in his grasp.

In distress, Wafa focuses again on the verses Ivan and Kyle wrote, then looks at the bridge she scribbled.

"Let me see what you've done." Like a hawk flying in a circle around a hunk of meat, then dives out of the blue, Ivan, too, seizes the paper from her like it and moves away to the other end of the table, forsaking the protesting girl.

He reads it and furrows his eyebrows in disappointment, and the vocalist knows whatever next will come out of his mouth will not be pleasing to her ears.

"Que demonios? You actually spent an hour and a half scribbling this crap?" The Spanish man asks in disbelief.

(what the hell)

She slowly bites her thumb again subconsciously, a habit she possesses when she is nervous.

"You're being too mean." Taking a last bite of the fruit, Kyle eyes the clump of its pale-yellowish seeds. "It's not her fault that she wasn't born with the ability to write romance."

Wafa glowers at him.

"It is as if there is no feeling behind it!" Ivan states exasperatedly. He goes to the black-haired vocalist and shows him the paper. "Look at it. It's more calculative than sentimental!"

When after a few seconds, the corner of Kyle's lips curves up upon reading the article, heat rises in her body out of mortification.

"So what?!" Wafa demands, defending herself. "Do you think I can pinpoint exact feelings when I have never felt them!" She throws her hands up in annoyance. "It's not like I have a degree in writing teen romance."

"Well, you suck as a songwriter." He puts the paper back on the table and turns to her. "And if you ever need a professional teacher, I'll be a call away."

Hearing no response from her, The Spanish man chuckles. "You need not be shy to admit that I am too perfect for you. From good looks to high intelligence, I've got all!" The brown-haired man jokes while giving her a toothy smile.

"Haughty." She mumbles, but he doesn't hear it. A sly smile breaks out on her features as the memories with her manager kick in.

"I think Vincent is the most intelligent in our group." She watches the charcoal-haired man halt from peeling an orange. "You even got admission to a Medical college, right?" She asks him.

He hums and halves the orange and gestures it to her, which she takes with a grateful smile.

And Ivan sitting on the edge of the table observes it with a teasing smirk. "You know there is a saying in Spanish 'Encontrar tu media naranja'. "

"Hate to break it to you, but we don't speak Spanish," Kyle utters with an aura of disinterest.

"Its literal meaning is to find your half-orange. When an orange is cut in half, the two halves match each other perfectly that no other halved orange is likely to fit so closely." Ivan gestures to the two of them with an unabashed smile.

Her right hand, taking the carpel to her mouth, stops midair upon hearing it. The assertion stings every fiber in her body. Wafa remembers the day vividly the first time people accused her of having an illicit relationship with Kyle Vincent. Later when a few days passed, both the vocalists declined it. She, then, was again rumored to have for having a sexual relationship with Vincent, and as the rumor kept spreading like a wild forest fire, people slandered her for carrying his baby. They were advised to remain silent about the matter until Seiga took control of it--- which luckily turned the accusations into ashes swiftly.
 
"Listen, Moreno." Wafa's expression turns into steel, her words icy, "Kyle and I will never be a pair. I don't have any romantic feelings for him, and there shall be none in the future, for there will be no future for us, so why bother having heartbreaks?"

"Why?" The midnight-haired man breathes.

"Because you're an atheist, Kyle," She utters in a soft voice, eyes holding nothing but sincerity, void of mock or taunt. "And I, as a Muslim woman, can't marry someone who doesn't believe in the Oneness of God and finality of the Prophet Muhammad peace be upon him, the last Messenger of God sent to earth for the guidance of mankind."

"And why would we give our hearts to someone who we will not be spending the rest of our lives with?" Wafa stands up, the carpels still in her hold. "Though this rule of my religion may to some seem not right, but Wallahi, there is wisdom behind it. And you are indeed intelligent. I pray you find the truth of this life, too, Vincent." She lightly shrugs her shoulders, and a genuine smile adorns her face. "I'm going to get myself some mango juice. You guys want some?"

(by God)

Kyle states instead, "You just had orange right now."

"So what?" Sassily, she walks to the exit door of the studio, leaving him baffled, sowing a seed in his chest to which they both are in oblivion.

The charcoal-haired man hears Ivan cuss as he devours the orange, discarding the seeds on the plate.

"I think I offended her."

"You know she is very touchy about this topic," Kyle says to Ivan. He knows very well they will never be together as a couple. She has made it clear countless times how she is neither interested in him nor the rest of the members. Yet, the truth to him always is a bitter pill to swallow.

The Spanish man clicks his tongue. "I couldn't help but bring up this topic."

Kyle leans forward. His lens observes the small pale-yellowish seeds of guava clumped together in an irregular pattern, and then his sight shifts to the pips of the orange in a plate. His mind recalls the color, the taste, the consistency of the orange to that of guava and many other fruits.

The existence of God, huh? He ponders.

A melancholic smile breaks out on Ivan's face as he looks up at the ceiling. "What can I say? The harder she is to allure, the irresistible she becomes."

⊱ ⋆ ⊰

The diamonds of his wristwatch glimmer under the golden pendant lights. He gestures to the bartender to come to him. With his friend on his right, he is seated on a leather couch next to the bar stand.

"Bring me my usual." He says to the middle-aged bartender as he approaches him. Maurice nods and proceeds with the order.

A hand wraps around his torso, and a feminine-scented perfume hits his nostrils. The lady temptingly whispers something in his ears, and a sinister smile stretches on his lips. She takes a step back, and his eyes trail her figure as she seductively walks away from him.

Watching this ordeal, his friend rolls his eyes and sips his drink in vexation.

"I suppose you wanted to spend the night with her?"

"And she made a move on you."

He chuckles. "I am the life of women."

"Life? My ass."

He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow at his friend. "There are two things women desire burns to get: Money and good looks." He leans forward and smirks. "And I suffice their desires with my perfection."

The bartender comes to them and brings him his drink.

"Could be all but one," His friend says, smiling triumphantly.

He grasps the drink and again raises his eyebrow at his friend skeptically.

"Wafa Hassan Sheikh."

"Ah, the Velvet girl." The bartender chimes in and chortles. "The one you were trying to woo."

His friend glares at Maurice. "I was not."

Maurice turns his attention to him. "That girl once came here to my bar with one of Seiga's dogs on a meeting and God! That girl didn't even spare a glance at your friend nor touched anything we gave them to drink."

He watches his friend's cheeks turning into a pinkish hue with a sly smile. From getting drunk or out of embarrassment, he doesn't know.

"Fine. I dare you to make her kiss you."

His smile broadens. The ego running in his veins gets alerted. How can this happen? Someone dares him, and he backs away? Never.

"Just a kiss? Now you are underestimating me." He coos. "I'll have a nightstand with her."

The doors of the bar open, and he snaps his attention to the person that comes in. The corner of his lips stretches upward. "And I have just a lead."

"Hey, Alan! Come over here, man!"

⊱ ⋆ ⊰

| HADITH |

Abu Darda reported: My dear friend the Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, instructed me, "Do not associate anything with Allah, even if you are slashed and burned. Do not leave the obligatory prayers on purpose, for whoever leaves them on purpose has forfeited the protection of Allah. Do not drink wine, for it is the key to every evil."

- Sunan Ibn Majah

| AUTHOR'S NOTE |

Loads of Drama is about to begin! Also, if you haven't checked out my other Historical Fiction, I highly recommend you do!

May Allah  ﷻ make you of those who are conscious of their prayers!

- W A L I Y A