A Game That Destroys ✓

9- The Sweet Promise

Author's Note: Assalam-u-Allaikum, my AMAZING readers! I am so ecstatic because of the amazing response I've been getting. Hey, I may not have reads in the millions but what I do have, all these lovely people voting and commenting and making my day, that's what really matters and I am so happy!

So, this update isn't too long but it is something. I barely got this out because my dad's coming over for the weekend and I have to make sure the house looks presentable. But I did promise you guys an update on Friday so here I am! Enjoy reading, please vote and comment. Jazakamullah and thank you!

Chapter 9- The Sweet Promise

The next day, with two buckets of mint chocolate chip in his hands, Za'yaal found himself standing in front of Myeesha's room. He told himself it was a thank you gift. For what, was the question. Restocking on the coffee? Yes, that sounded good.

Forget it. He shouldn't be talking to her in the first place. She dressed like a weirdo and talked back and-

He rolled his eyes and knocked.

"Come in!"

Walking inside, he saw Myeesha sitting on a rug, her hands raised to her face. She blinked twice. "Za'yaal?"

"Uh, hey. I wanted to-"

"Hold up. Let me finish praying please." She paused. "Can you sit on the bed and not look this way? I have to take off my veil."

"Sure."

He put the ice cream on the bedside table and sat on the bed. Myeesha removed her niqab and he was suddenly hit with an urge to peek. He quickly shook that desire away and looked around the room. It was kept neat and tidy, a single book on the table, the bed sheets made and the curtains pulled back. Not a single thing looked out of place. He had visited Irsa's room on the first day and compared to her dump, this was heaven.

He caught sight of Myeesha's elegant movements and paused to think. He hadn't thought about Islam in the longest time. After . . . after his mother left, he couldn't think about religion. He didn't want to think about a God who'd put him through such pain. What helped him was the alcohol. Not the prayers or the Holy Book. How did anyone expect him to stay Muslim after that incident?

Seeing her, with her faith intact and growing strong even though she had experienced horrible things too, he couldn't help but wonder if he had been wrong.

She finished with her prayers, made a quick Dua'a so as to not keep him waiting. Then she pulled up her veil and turned to face him.

"How can I help you?"

He gestured to the frozen delights. "Ice cream?"

"Jazakallah," she took the offered bucket. Popping it open, she dug out the spatula from inside the cover and tore its wrapping. Za'yaal was already a good way in by the time she took her first bite. "It's good!"

"Second on my favorites. Which flavor do you like?"

She put down the wooden spoon and thought about it. "This is the third time I've eaten ice cream. Two times vanilla cones from this little shop on the edge of the city. I've never eaten ice cream like this though."

He felt guilty for flaunting his wealth in her face. She wasn't used to this life. He was going to have to take it slow and not act as if everything he found normal was also normal for her.

"There's tons in the freezer. Feel free to take whatever you want."

"That's really kind of you."

He paused and shrugged. They ate in silence for a while, Myeesha on the floor with her back to the bedside table and her legs crossed and Za'yaal on the bed. He was almost done with the carton when a rather disturbing thought entered his mind. He grimaced and put the remaining ice cream down.