His Muslim Bride

Chapter 1~ A Cup Of Espresso

Ahlam's POV

I groaned loudly as I wake up to the sound of a buzzing alarm. Looking over to the bedside table, I see that it's already time for Fajr. Waking up on time to pray Salah always makes my day better. Pulling the covers back, I walk to the bathroom and start on my morning routine.

After finishing my prayers and reading my thirty minute Quran, I decided to clean my one bedroom studio. Walking through the dark hallway, I turn on the kitchen light and make myself cereal for breakfast. I love cooking but knowing that I'm on a tight budget, I opt out for avacado toast and a glass of orange juice.

Paying the bills has become very difficult especially now that I'm on my own. Moving to NYC from England, was the best choice I had ever had to make. Moving thousands of miles away from that hellhole I used to call home.

I moved here a week after graduating from university and I literally bolted out of there like I was on fire. Living with my adoptive parents and their nasty mean kids, has been nothing but a nightmare for me since I was eight years old.

I don't know anything about my biological family, IF I have any.

My adopted mother told me that I was found near a hospital with no memory of my past. I had nothing on me, except the name Nazeeha on a bracelet around my wrist. Ever since then I have lived with my adoptive family, although it felt more like a foster family than adopted.

Now, I live in New York on my own with a degree in business management and financial accounting. Although all I seem to be finding is either a waitressing job or in a fast food places. However, I decided to work as a waitress in a small coffee shop. The owner there seems sweet. I found this place when I was looking for a place to live and the sweet owner offered me the position of a waitress until I find something better Inshallah. All in all I have no complaints.

It's now around nine in the morning. Walking out of my apartment, I walk the short distance to the coffee shop. As I was about to open the door my phone rings, getting out I noticed it's an unknown number. Deciding not to answer, I make my way into the shop and put on my apron and start working.

Hours later, I noticed that it's almost dark outside. Knowing that the day is almost over, I take my break and start sending out more applications to more suitable jobs with better paying and hours. About five minutes later, my phone rings but it's from the same number from this morning, so I ignored it. hopefully I would get calls for job interviews soon.

Trying to rest a moment to enjoy a cup of Espresso, I look around the street. everything in NY is so different compared to England. Looking down at my Espresso, its the only thing that's same. kind of reminds me of my days before freedom. How could a cup of coffee bring back such strong memories?

Forgetting about the strange phone call, I'm consumed by the demanding job of so called being a waitress. As my shift comes to an end, a new customer arrives. One with a very expensive tailored suit and a matching shoes. He settles down in the left side corner of the shop next to the window. Looking at the watch on

my wrist, I noticed that I still had fifteen minutes left. I decide to make my way to him to take his order. I take out the notepad and the pencil in my apron as I approach his table.

"Good evening Sir, What can I get you?" I ask with a small smile on my lips.

"Espresso." He said and his jaws tightening without even looking up.

I don't even bother to write it and walk away to make my way to the kitchen. Making his espresso, I add my own designs.

Grinning like an idiot, I walk back to him with the espresso in my hand.

"There you go Sir. Is there anything else I can get you?" I ask awaiting for his reply.

"No. You can go." He all but barks out in a cold tone.

Sheesh, what crawled up in his pants and died?

"Jerk." I muttered as I walked away.

Noting that my shift is officially over, I go back to the staff room to grab my things. Alhamdulillah, I don't have to close today. Rose, the coffee shop owner is going to close and open up tomorrow morning.

As I was walking back to my apartment, I heard footsteps behind me.

Too afraid to look back, I pick up the pace and walk faster. I probably looked like a crazy woman right now. Then out of nowhere I felt two strong hands grab my shoulders turning me around so fast I wondered how my head was still attached to the rest of my body.

Meeting up with a glazed dark brown eyes, I can smell the gut retching smell of alcohol on his breath. As he leans closer to my face, I squirm and wiggle trying my best to get out of his hold. Snatching my Hijab off, he tried to rip my shirt and pushed me down on the concrete floor hard. I thought I saw stars flying around me. Getting dizzy, I felt him punch me in the stomach. Getting punched in the stomach, it felt like I was back the living room of my adoptive parent's home. I wanted to scream so badly, but I knew better. The more I screamed, thrashed, and struggled the more he would hurt me. The only sound I could hear was the busy streets of the city and people minding their own business.

As he tried to force himself on me, I felt something warm trickled down my forehead. Right when I was about give into the darkness, I heard that cold tone again and I felt the weight of the man lifted off of me. Heaving a relieved sigh, I close my eyes and fall into the dreamless world of unconsciousness before I felt being carried off the cold hard concrete ground. The last thing I heard was,

"Stai come cara,  sono qui con te." In a soft tone.