They had a magnificent lunch at a splendid restaurant.Afer that Arsalan took her to a shopping mall. Sahira was thoroughly enjoying Arsalan's company. Since coming to the USA, it was her first time visiting such a large shopping mall. She was a bit nervous and didn't want to embarrass Arsalan in any way. Everything was so new to her.
With his arm comfortably around her waist, Arsalan guided her through the bustling mall. Their arrival at the boutique caused a stir. The manager, recognizing Arsalan, hastened towards them with a fawning smile.
"Sir, it's an honor to have you here," the manager gushed.
Arsalan returned the smile, his gaze warm on Sahira. "I'm looking for something special for my wife," he announced.
Sahira smiled back at Arsalan.
"Sure, sir. " The manager nodded. At Arsalan's command, the manager quickly called a female staff member to assist. She guided them to a seperate room. The room was adorned with plush furnishings and soft lighting, creating an atmosphere of exclusivity. A sumptuous sofa dominated the center of the room .
As the female staff began to display an array of designer dresses, Sahira noticed a familiar aesthetic, a blend of Indian and Pakistani influences. The clothes were incredibly beautiful, designed by expert designers, as evident at first glance. Her eyes widened in awe. Each piece was a masterpiece of design, crafted from the finest fabrics and adorned with intricate embellishments. The price tags, however, told a different story. Her heart sank every time she saw the price tag. The prices were so high that she wondered if there were some extra zeros mistakenly added. However, She dared not voice her shock, fearing it would reflect poorly on Arsalan's taste or status.
Sahira's fingers traced the delicate fabric of a dress, her heart heavy. She picked up a dress and then put it back. She couldn't bear the thought of bankrupting her husband on their first day. Arsalan, sensing her hesitation, stepped closer.
"Something wrong, Sweetheart?" Arsalan's voice was gentle as he noticed her hesitation.
Sahira shook her head, her smile strained. "They're beautiful," she managed to say.
Arsalan chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Don't worry about the price. You deserve the best."It was as if he knew what was going on in her mind. He read her like an open book. He always did. But, Sahira could never realize it. Because he never allowed her to. With a confident stride, he began selecting outfits for her, his taste impeccable.
A purple salwar kameez caught his eye, and he held it up with a flourish. "This one," he declared.
The female staff guided Sahira to the changing room and she hesitantly went with her. Arsalan, meantime, grabbed a magazine and settled onto the couch.
When she came out wearing the dress, the girl showered her with compliments. Sahira in that purple dress looked quite
Sahira stood in front of Arsalan, who lowered the magazine, his gaze sweeping over her. There was no one else in the room except the three of them , making it seem like the whole place was reserved just for them.
"Not quite," he mused, a hint of dissatisfaction in his voice. "Try the yellow one." Sahira who hoped that he would showered her with praises like the sales girl, felt a pang of disappointment.
The girl picked up the red dress and took Sahira back to the changing room.
When Sahira came out wearing the yellow dress, Arsalan tilted his head slightly and said, "It's too bright."
Arsalan gestured to a pink dress, which the girl picked up and escorted Sahira back to the changing room.
"It's too dull."
The process repeated itself, a whirlwind of colors and styles. Black was too bold, crimson too understated. Sahira's enthusiasm dwindled with each rejection, while Arsalan seemed increasingly determined. The sales associate's own optimism began to wane.
Then, as if by magic, Sahira reappeared in a fiery red dress. Time seemed to stand still as Arsalan's eyes locked onto her. She was a vision, radiant and captivating. A slow, approving nod replaced his earlier criticisms.
"Perfect!" he exclaimed, circling her with a connoisseur's eye. "Wrap this one up."
Sahira's face lit up with a mixture of relief and delight. The sales associate, visibly relieved, began packing the chosen dress.
But Arsalan was not finished. With a grand gesture, he indicated the entire collection. "Pack them all," he announced, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Arsalan, what am I going to do with all of these?" she exclaimed, her voice laced with disbelief. Her wedding wardrobe was already overflowing, thanks to generous relatives.
Arsalan's eyes held a mischievous glint. "My love, you'll find plenty of occasions to wear them," he assured her confidently.
"But..." Sahira began, her voice trailing off as his gaze fell upon her, intense and unwavering. His hand reached out to gently caress her cheek, sending a shiver down her spine. The sales associate, sensing the intimate moment, discreetly exited the room.
Sahira was left alone with Arsalan, his undivided attention making her heart race. The dress she held was undeniably stunning, but the plunging neckline and tight fit made her uncomfortable. She hesitated, her fingers nervously twisting the fabric. "Arsalan, I don't think I can wear something like this," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper.
A slow, seductive smile curved his lips. "Then it's time to start," he replied, his voice low and husky. His eyes held a challenge that both intrigued and intimidated her. "Wear them for me," he added, his voice softening. "You can wear whatever you want in public, but when it's just us, I want to see you in these."
A playful wink accompanied his words, and Sahira couldn't help but smile. She was caught in a whirlwind of emotions, excitement and apprehension swirling within her.
---
Sahira had never gone into a lingerie store alone herself. Her undergarments purchasing had always been taken care of by her mother. And now here she was, burning with shame as she followed Arsalan into this strange land. As he confidently selected various items, her discomfort grew. She played with the corner of her hijab. She felt a multitude of eyes on her, their gazes lingering on her figure cloaked in the abaya and hijab. Yet, it wasn't her modest attire that captivated their attention. The tall, strikingly handsome man at her side was the undeniable focal point. Their curious stares seemed to question the unlikely pairing, as if struggling to comprehend how such a man could be with her.
Her eyes widened when she saw the obscene images of the models on display. She felt a flash of possessiveness, wanting to hide Arsalan's eyes from those obscene displays.
To her relief, Arsalan seemed oblivious to the suggestive imagery, his focus solely on selecting the perfect lingerie for her. A wave of gratitude washed over her as they exited the shop. Their next destination was a hijab store, where they spent a leisurely afternoon choosing beautiful head coverings for herself. Then they shopped for the rest of the family.
After a sumptuous dinner at another upscale restaurant, they decided it was time to head home. As they settled into the car, Sahira's sweet tooth began to crave a cold treat. "Arsalan," she began, her voice soft, "I really want ice cream."
"No". Arsalan's reply came instantly.
"Why ?"
"You will fall sick."
Her lower lip jutted out in a playful pout. "Please?" Her eyes, large and pleading, were impossible to resist.
" No."
"Please, Arsalan." She requested.
With a resigned sigh, he agreed to her request, purchasing a single ice cream cone to satisfy her craving.
Sahira savored the icy treat as Arsalan carefully maneuvered through the traffic. "You're hogging it all alone," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement." Let me have a taste."
"Nope, you'll get sick," she retorted, a playful glint in her own eyes. It was her turn to tease him now.
Arsalan feigned mock offense. "Is that so?" he replied, reaching across the console to grab her hand. With a swift movement, he took a generous bite from her ice cream cone.
Sahira gasped in surprise, her cheeks flushing a deep pink. "Arsalan!" she exclaimed, playfully indignant.
He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Sweetheart, this is what you get for not sharing."
She squeezed her eyes shut in mock annoyance, clinging to the car door for dramatic effect. Determined to finish her ice cream in peace, she focused on the sweet treat, her pout slowly fading.
Arsalan watched her with a fond smile. When she was finished, he noticed a tiny smear of ice cream clinging to the corner of her lip. With a gentle touch, he wiped it away with his finger and, before she could react, licked the ice cream clean. Her face erupted in a blush as intense as the setting sun, and he winked at her, his heart filled with warmth.
---
Arsalan had ducked into a car shop to grab something he needed. After purchasing, he received a call from Karim. After a short conversation, he hung up.
As he finished his call, he noticed Sahira was not present in the car. Frowns appeared on his forehead. He looked aroun and spotted her precariously perched on a tree branch, overlooking a dangerous cliff. If she leaned a bit more, she could fall into the ravine.
With a surge of adrenaline, he sprinted towards her.
Sahira, holding onto the tree branch with one hand and trying to reach the kitten with the other, suddenly lost her grip. Her eyes widened as she was about to fall, but Arsalan caught her hand. In the next moment, Arsalan pulled her towards him, and she collided with his strong chest.
With fear in her eyes, Sahira gazed at Arsalan, her heart in her throat.
"What were you doing? Have you lost your mind?" Arsalan's tone was neither soft nor harsh. It was evident he was quite upset with her action.
"Arsalan, there's a kitten stuck there. Please save it. It looks trapped. Please get it out of there... who knows how long it's been stuck there in this cold," Sahira pleaded.
Arsalan looked at her with bewildered eyes. This girl was just moments away from falling to her death, yet she seemed not to care about herself, worried only about a kitten.
Arsalan took a deep breath. A few moments later, the kitten was in her lap, and Sahira beamed with joy.
"You risked your life for this kitten? What would have happened if you had fallen into the ravine?" Arsalan addressed while driving. Sahira glanced at him, trying to gauge if he was angry.However, she couldn't tell anything from Arsalan's expression.
"Who knows how long Kitty was stuck there. Look, it's hurt and probably starving," Sahira said, examining hew new found pet. She didn't want to upset him. She could guess that Arsalan was worried about her. If he hadn't caught her hand in time, she might have fallen into the ravine.
"Sahira, it's good that you wanted to save the kitten, but risking your own life for it is sheer foolishness." Arsalan admonished. He didn't like the fact that she put herself in danger.
"What else could I do, Arsalan? Knowing that if I didn't help it, it would die, how could I not try to save him? I had to do something," she said, gently stroking the kitten in her lap.
Arsalan looked at her and paused for a moment. She looked genuinely concerned for the tiny kitten as if she could feel the kitten's pain. Arsalan wondered what it feel like to experience . He never experienced pain or suffering. His genetical disorder never let him experience any sort of pain. It would felt like a blessing but in reality it was a curse.
He became a monster. A monster who can never understand someone else's pain.
This girl reminded him of someone. Something stirred within him at the sight of her. It was an unfamiliar sensation, a gentle tug at his heartstrings. A warmth spread through him, a comforting sensation he couldn't quite name but cherished nonetheless.
He felt strange, very strange. He was an actor in front of people, a master at pretending. But for a moment, it seemed like he forgot how to act. But the next moment, he composed himself once again. Moments of vulnerability was a rare occasion for him.
He was an actor, a master at disguise. He was Ezel, the heir to a mafia empire, soon to rule the underworld. He was also Arsalan, a capable neurosurgeon. A kind-hearted doctor.
He was a chameleon, with many faces. Which one among them was real and whic one was false? No one knew. Perhaps even he didn't.
Sahira was unaware of this chameleon. To her, he was just Arsalan, her husband, her love, a capable doctor who saved lives and loved her immensely.
"You know, Arsalan, we sisters always wanted a cat. Baba always supported us, but mom never agreed. When I will show Kitty to everyone, they will be so happy. Especially Tayyiba, she'll be overjoyed," Sahira said excitedly. A sudden memory struck her, and she instinctively slapped her forehead, wincing at the unexpected sting.
Arsalan's brow furrowed in concern as he gently grasped her hand.
"What are you doing? Why are you hitting yourself?"
A blush crept up Sahira's cheeks as she realized her impulsive action. She was behaving like a child. She needed to compose herself. "Sorry," she mumbled, pulling her hand away.
Mustering her courage, she looked at Arsalan hopefully. "Arsalan, can I keep Kitty with me? Please?"
A playful glint appeared in his eyes. "Of course, you can keep her. Otherwise, I might just find myself rescuing you from another cliff for Kitty's sake." His teasing tone brought a smile to Sahira's face.
"Thanks, Arsalan, for letting me keep Kitty. You'll see, everyone will be so happy to see her. They must have arrived by now. I can't wait to show them kitty," Sahira chirped excitedly.
"Yes, you can show them Kitty some other day. But we're not going home now," Arsalan said, turning the car right.
"If we're not going home, then where are we going?"
Sahira asked, looking at him.
" You'll see." His lips curved into a knowing smile.
As the car rolled forward, a grand iron gate swung open, revealing a breathtaking sight. A magnificent penthouse stood tall and proud. Sahira's jaw dropped in astonishment. She'd seen similar penthouses in extravagant YouTube videos, their price tags hovering around the half-billion mark. But this one seemed even more grandiose, its value beyond her wildest imagination.
Her family was undoubtedly affluent, with her uncle a stock market titan and her cousins holding prestigious positions. Arsalan, a renowned doctor, was also a millionaire, a fact she'd long been aware of. But the magnitude of his wealth had never truly dawned on her until this moment. This was a world beyond her dreams, a realm of unimaginable luxury.
Her mind raced, trying to comprehend the reality unfolding before her eyes. This was their home?
Arsalan brought the car to a smooth stop.His long legs gracefully unfolding as he exited. Returning to Sahira's side, he opened her door with a gentle hand. Bending down, he scooped her up effortlessly, his strong arms providing a secure embrace.
"Arsalan!" Sahira's voice was a mix of surprise and embarrassment. "I can walk, you know."
A playful twinkle danced in his eyes. "Of course, you can. But I prefer carrying you in my arms, just like you carry that little kitten." A charming wink accompanied his words, sending a blush creeping up Sahira's cheeks. She ducked her head, seeking refuge in the familiar comfort of his chest. He carried her forward. Sahira couldn't believe she had found a husband who loved her so much.
His melodious heartbeat rang in her ears, much calmer than her own, which seemed to be dancing in her chest. She began to feel the rythm of Arsalan's heartbeat and inhaled the smell of his cologne. She wanted to surrender herself to him completely.
"Arsalan, you can put me down now. I want to explore the house and give Kitty a bath."
As they reached the penthouse, Sahira lifted her face from his chest and spoke.
"Do whatever you want, but do it while staying in my arms," Arsalan said, while tightening his grip aroundher . Quite evident that he had no intention of putting her down.
"Arsalan, how can I do anything like this?"
"That's the point; you don't need to do anything. Just stay in my arms. I'll handle everything."
His lips curved into a smug smile.
"Look, your kitten is already asleep. No need to disturb the poor thing," Arsalan declared. They had taken the kitten to the vet earlier, where it had gone through a complete check-up. Sahira had also bought a lot of things for it and fed it milk. That's why the kitten was now sleeping peacefully.
Arsalan gently carried her to the bedroom, his intention clear as she shyly buried her face in his chest.
He carefully laid her down on the bed, then took the sleeping kitten from her hands and placed it in the cozy cat house they had bought, tucking it in with a soft blanket.
Sahira, sitting on the bed and watching him with deep affection, felt her love for him grow even more. Her cheeks flushed with a warm blush as she observed his tender care for the kitten.
Arsalan then settled himself close, resting his head in her lap as he lay on the pillow.
"Uff... You look so adorable when you blush," he said with a playful grin. "I'd do anything for your shyness."
He dramatically placed a hand over his heart, causing Sahira to giggle.
---
She hadn't come today. It didn't matter to anyone at the university. Maybe not even to Sahira's friends. But it mattered to him. He was restless. He didn't want to think about her, but his mind kept wandering back to her. She reminded him of someone else.
"What's wrong, Isaac?" Alvin's voice cut through his reverie. They were huddled in a corner of the cafeteria. It was packed to the brim with students.
Isaac shrugged, his gaze distant. "Nothing,"He mumbled . Taking the last sip from his juice can, he tossed it into the trash.
"Hey, wasn't there another muslim girl with Christina and Mariam? She's not here today," Oliver asked, noticing their group. Lucas, Christina's brother, offered a casual response. "Probably not. If she was here, she'd be with them. Why do you ask?"
Oliver grinned. "She's pretty cute. I'm thinking about asking her out."
Lucas chuckled. "I doubt that'll work. She's quite reserved and doesn't interact much with boys."
"That's all just an act. Everyone acts like that at first. But once they start getting attention, they change like the rest. The scarf she wears will be gone in no time," Oliver mocked. Maaz was standing nearby, listening silently. For a moment, he felt like giving Oliver a piece of his mind. But what could he say? Oliver wasn't entirely wrong. Many girls at the university removed their hijabs and engaged in un-Islamic activities. It wasn't just the girls; many Muslim boys also drifted away from Islam at university due to their lack of religious knowledge.
Maaz sighed deeply. He couldn't say anything to Oliver.
"I'm sure if I give that girl some attention, she'll remove her hijab and be in my bed in no time..." Oliver couldn't finish his sentence as Isaac, who had been listening quietly, exploded. His hand shot out, gripping Oliver's collar with surprising force.
Isaac's voice, low and menacing, echoed through the cafeteria, silencing the chatter. "Not another word," he growled, his eyes blazing with fury. Oliver, caught off guard by the sudden aggression, struggled against Isaac's iron grip.
The once-lively cafeteria transformed into a hushed spectator's gallery. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the escalating confrontation. Lucas, sensing the danger, attempted to pull Isaac away from Oliver, while Maaz tried to intervene from the other side. But Isaac was a force unleashed, his anger clouding his judgment.
It felt as if Oliver's words were a desecration of Hannah's memory. A surge of protectiveness for Sahira, who reminded him so much of Hannah, fueled his rage.
The cafeteria erupted in whispers and murmurs.
Sahira's friends, who had witnessed the entire spectacle, exchanged stunned glances. None had ever seen Isaac lose his temper like that. With a final, violent shake, Isaac released Oliver, who stumbled backward, gasping for air. Isaac turned and walked away, his back rigid with anger.
---
It wa Galicia. Two children, a boy and a girl in pink hijab , ran through the emerald fields , their laughter as free as the the wine. They chased playful cows, the giggles echoing in the open fields. As the sun began to set Miss Ana stood tall, her arms outstretched like a shepherd guiding her flock. " Aree!!" she shouted and urged the cows to move forwards. The children eagerly helped her gather the contented cows back to the farm.Their afternoon continued with feeding the calves. As warm milk flowed from the bucket, a naughty calf decided it was playtime. With a flick of its head, it sent grass flying into the air, surprising the children. Giggles erupted as the grass rained down.
Now they were sitting under a tree. Hannah had a small rabbit in her hand. One of the rabbit's eyes was damaged, but Hannah loved it dearly. Hannah and the rabbit, whom they lovingly called Gyro, were Isaac's only friends.
Hannah was stroking Gyro's back when Isaac started staring at her intently.
"Hannah, are you bald? Don't you have any hair on your head?" Isaac asked curiously. Hannah was a Muslim girl. They had come from Pakistan. Her father worked in Isaac's father's factory, and her mother worked in Isaac's house.
Since Hannah had come to their house, Isaac had only seen her in a hijab. He had never figured out if she had hair.
Hannah looked at him with some annoyance.
"Why wouldn't I have hair? My hair is very beautiful. Say 'MashAllah' or else you'll give me the evil eye."
Isaac didn't know what 'MashAllah' meant or what the evil eye was.
"Hannah, what does 'MashAllah' mean?"
"MashAllah means when we see something beautiful, we remember Allah and acknowledge that Allah created it beautifully."
The seven-year-old girl didn't fully understand the meaning of MashAllah but tried to explain it to her friend as best as she could.
"And who is Allah?"
Isaac was hearing the name Allah for the first time in his eight-year-old life.
Hannah's mouth dropped open in shock.
"You don't know Allah?" Hannah asked as if it were an unbelievable fact.
"No."
Isaac felt embarrassed, seeing Hannah's reaction, as if everyone knew Allah except him.
"Allah created all of us."
"Everyone?"
"Yes, everyone."
"Even plants?"
"Yes, even plants, the sky, the earth, dust, and everything."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. And Allah loves us very much. When I need something, I pray to Allah, and He gives it to me. Allah also protects me from mommy's scolding."
"Have you seen Allah?"
"Silly! We can't see Allah right now."
"Why?"
"Only those who go to Jannah can see Allah."
"What is Jannah?"
"Jannah is a place where good people will live forever. There will be no sadness there. There will be lots of delicious fruits. No one will have to do any work."
"Really?"
"Yes, really."
The thought of Jannah made Isaac's eyes sparkle.
"Can I go to Jannah too?"
"Yes, but you have to follow all of Allah's commands, live according to the Sunnah of the Prophet (SAW), and do many good deeds. Only then can you go to Jannah."
Hannah shared with him all the things her mother had taught her.
"Alright, I'll do all of that. Then I can go to Jannah, right?"
"Yes, then you'll surely go to Jannah."
"We'll stay together in Jannah, Hannah. We'll take Gyro with us too," Isaac's blue eyes sparkled as he spoke and imagined playing with Gyro and Hannah there.
Hannah was also beaming with joy at his words.
"You won't have to train in Jannah, Isaac. We'll play a lot there."
Hannah chirped happily.
Then they started talking about their homes. Hannah told him her mother scolded her for not brushing her teeth before bed. "She said I had to brush my teeth, But , I didn't and pretended to asleep." she confessed, a hint of mischief in her voice.
Isaac shared his success story."I hit the target dead center!" he boasted, his chest puffing out slightly. "My trainer was so impressed."
While talking, Isaac suddenly thought about Hannah's hair again.
"Hannah, will you show me your hair?" He asked.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Girls don't show their hair to boys."
Hannah's answer disappointed him.
"Will I never see your hair?"
He asked . His voice filled with sadness.
"You can if you marry me."
"Really?"
"Yes, a girl can show her hair to her husband, just like mommy shows her hair to daddy."
"Then I'll marry you when I grow up."
"Okay, Isaac, if you marry me, I'll show you my hair."
Hannah smiled, her hand gently stroking Gyro's soft fur.
But then, the unthinkable happened. Blood seeped through Gyro's fur, a crimson stain spreading ominously. Isaac's laughter froze on his lips, replaced by widening horror. Darkness crept into the edges of his vision, swallowing the once-bright world. Hannah vanished, leaving him alone in the growing gloom.
A figure emerged from the shadows, a chilling familiarity in its outline. It was his father, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing intensity.
"Dad, where's Hannah?" Isaac's voice trembled, a fragile question in the face of the impending darkness.
"I killed her, Isaac," his father's voice echoed, cold and cruel. "She was your weakness. Now, you will be undivided. You will become the next Capo dei Capi." A maniacal laugh erupted from his lips, a haunting melody in the nightmarish scene.
"No, you're lying,"10 year old, Isaac protested, his voice barely a whisper. Fear ignited his small body, propelling him into a desperate flight. "Hannah!" he cried out, the name echoing in the empty space.
He raced through the darkness, his heart pounding like a desperate drumbeat. A glimmer of hope appeared as he spotted Hannah standing by the tranquil pond. Relief washed over him, but it was short-lived. With a gasp, he watched as she plunged into the water, disappearing beneath the surface.
-----
Isaac jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. The room was cloaked in the inky blackness of 3 AM. His chest heaved with each ragged breath, a prisoner of his own suffocating nightmare. With a desperate need for air, he threw off the suffocating blanket and stumbled out onto the veranda.
He drew in deep, calming breaths, trying to quell the storm raging in his mind. The image of Hannah surfaced.
"Hannah..." he murmured. Sahira's face superimposed over Hannah's, a haunting overlay of memories.
If Hannah were alive today, she might bear a striking resemblance to Sahira. The thought of Hannah often brought Sahira to mind. There was something about her that triggered a profound sense of familiarity. Every time he saw Sahira, he was haunted by a fleeting illusion of seeing Hannah.
Self-awareness crept in, and he chastised himself for the recurring thought of Sahira.
Why was he thinking about that girl so much?
"She isn't Hannah. She isn't my Hannah," Isaac kept telling himself, as if trying to convince his own heart. He made a firm decision that from now on, he would not think about Sahira at all.
However, Isaac didn't know that in the days to come, he was going to be a significant cause of that girl's downfall.
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