Two Brothers, One Heart

Chapter 30

Firdausi found herself reluctantly lying on the carefully arranged bed, messing it up as she crumpled it. She was wearing a pink singlet and blue jeans. All she could feel was frustration and devastation after seeing Mubarak with the Safeena girl at Biggie Fastfood, eating and interacting.

She never wanted to go, but Fatima influenced her to grab lunch from the Fastfood to blow off some steam from school. At first, she couldn't believe it, but after seeing the gingham shirt he was wearing, the one with blue and red prints. He loved wearing it on special occasions because she once complimented him that it looked nice and made him look manly.

She cried for the rest of the time she arrived home. At least Mubarak didn't see them, and Fatima was too busy chatting about her happy family to notice other customers.

She told herself she was never in love with him. They were just cousins, but seeing him with other girls hurt her a lot. It was like putting her hand in fire.

Just then, a text popped up on her phone. It read: "I'm at ur place."

She rushed to the bathroom, washed her face, then came back and applied some lip gloss before putting on a big t-shirt and scarf. She descended the stairs.

No one was at home, just her and a few servants. But there she was, taking a ride with a boy she barely knew. The boy she had a one-night stand with, who was about to ruin her carefully crafted life with pictures she wasn't even aware he took.

"Hey," said Damien, waving at her. His hair was dyed brown and his trousers were tight, accentuating his features. He wore a suede jacket that gave off an alpha male, bad boy, casanova vibe.

"Let's go," she said, grabbing the helmet and climbing onto his bike. She wasn't sure about holding onto him like she held onto Mubarak's jacket. She felt he wasn't worthy of it.

"Is that a yes?" he asked, kicking the key.

"Unless you tell me who put you up to this," she said, as he revved the bike and they zoomed away.

The wind was unbearable and too cold to handle, but she didn't care. She was trying to stop being mad for no reason, punishing herself by dating him, even though Mubarak was the main reason.

They rode through serene streets, the engine being the only sound. The ride was surprisingly amazing, different from the rides with Mubarak. Though both were reckless drivers, Damien was an expert. The feeling of the wind touching her skin through her shirt was soothing.

As they drove farther, she couldn't help but notice the large posters on the streets gradually shrinking in size, thanks to the magic of perspective. It was a fascinating sight, and she wished she could have taken a closer look at the vibrant shops they passed by. The glimpses she caught were enough to leave her in awe of the colorful displays and enticing storefronts.

Despite being strangers, there was an undeniable sense of adventure and excitement in the air. Each passing moment on the ride seemed to deepen their connection, making her wish that it would last forever. The thrill of the unknown, the rush of the wind against her face, and the shared experience created a unique bond between them.

**

Islam walked into the beautifully arranged office, wearing her Ankara gown and scarf. The large windows let in an abundance of natural light, illuminating the rows of sewing machines on one end and a magnificent shelf filled with eye-catching fabrics. The walls were adorned with stunning fashion vogue paintings, providing inspiration at every glance.

In the office, a lady sat in the visitor's seat, engaged in conversation with Zaynab, who was diligently jotting down important details from their discussion. The lady had her back turned to Islam, but her stylish tuxedo which accentuated her straight shoulders and perfectly tied vintage scarf added to her air of elegance.