WrongSufferedAtHands

3.

Afiyah examined herself in the mirror, her scarf dropping over her brow slightly. The scarf was black and decorated with beads on the netting, with a patch of black and crimson flowers stretching over the edges where it hung over her forehead. She agreed she looked exquisite; she was magnificent.

Her petite face fitted her scarf's folds flawlessly, and she appeared much like those newscasters on big screens. She pictured herself wearing a headscarf, burqa, and shawl, but she had no assumption she'd look that good. She adored this ever since she wore it on because Sameer had bought it for her as a birthday present.

Afiyah was fully cognizant that she was causing a stir, and the offender was her scarf, she stiffened whenever she caught passersby's staring. She felt conflicted, her insides twisted with discomfort; she was perfectly acceptable without it, she reasoned.

She fiddled with her headscarf fairly shortly as she stepped into the classroom. Fidgeting and tugging on the scarf to get it off of her head.

"Don't try taking it off quite yet; at least, let me have a brief look."

She straightened her action, having already scented Hassan prior to actually whirling about. Hassan was positioned an inch away from her when she faced him, and her cores burst with thrills; their breaths intermingled.

Hassan stayed silent afterwards, as if her enticing appearance had rendered him speechless, standing rigid and peering into her eyes. Her eyes veered away from him, as if she couldn't meet his keen stare.

"Absolutely Stunning. I simply cannot believe you were supposed to rip it to shreds before I even cherished you. I'm grateful to be able to chase you down to prevent you from doing just that." Hassan exclaimed, his voice low and powerful. Afiyah inhaled his freshly mint-scented breath, and their wide eyes hooked; an intense flicker flashed between them like a sparkle from a campfire.

"I had no awareness you were stalking me." She teased as she indented to walk away when Hassan grabbed her wrist to prevent her from fleeing, her willpower befuddled.

"I mentioned you look stunning, the least you can do is to embrace my compliment," he swung her around and they stood toe to toe.

"Thanks and kindly do not block my path again, others could witness," Afiyah chortled awkwardly as she sought to spare herself from Hassan's grasp.

If there had been any space left, Hassan made some strides closer to her; she was genuinely afraid to have him that close to her. As he drew in further still, Hassan had a genuine smile on his face. The voices outside the classroom drove Afiyah to withdraw her hand from his clutch and shove him away, to which he returned a snicker.

"Gather your senses before people express their unacceptable thoughts towards us."

Afiyah's pulse hammered in her throat for another two hours virtually every time she captured Hassan's unflinching stare at her throughout the lessons.

The recess time was ultimately an opportunity for Afiyah to spend quality time with her bosom friends, Eshaal and Bushra. When Eshaal witnessed Hassan attempting to approach them, — particularly Afiyah, their never-ending chatter came to a halt. Eshaal frightened before her senses could produce an audible sound.

Afiyah rotated her neck in the route of her shoulder as she sensed someone clear their throat from behind them. "May I have a minute with your dearest friend, girls?" Hassan demanded, practically towering over her.

As they muttered a faint yes and rose up from their seats, Eshaal and Bushra were faster than a speeding bullet.

"Well, there's no urgency for you two to leave, I'm determined to somehow get her out of here." In an authoritative tone, Hassan expressed before looking Afiyah in the eyes, "Shall we?"