Islam Saleh, a brilliant Cambridge graduate, stepped into the vibrant tapestry of life, weaving a journey filled with love, passion, and family dynamics. Behind the facade of their affluent lifestyle, the strain between her and her step-sister linge...
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★ "Won't you tell me the reason you left the other day," said Islam sulkily, burdening Usman. Her mouth was coated with chocolate as she took a bar while he made a sandwich for her. He was quite the chef.
"I already told you it was just work and Yahya as usual, he disturbs me a lot," he complained while adding sauce to the pan, aiming to win her heart through her belly.
"No, I hate you," she said angrily, licking the remnants of the Ferrero Rocher chocolate he had brought that morning. Its smooth milky outer layer and hazelnut filling made it velvety and classic.
"At least don't hate my sandwich," he said, placing the plate of sandwiches on the counter in front of her.
"I hate the sandwich too," she replied, turning her face away but still savoring the chocolate, which made him chuckle.
"At least let me have a bite," requested Yasin, who was slightly commanding her. He had just returned from his Islamic School, looking tired and hungry.
"You upstairs," she said, munching on the sandwich.
"Okay, Ali told me about the his polo club having a match very soon. I don't know if you have time for it or if you're busy with preparations. You shouldn't worry about the decoration though," he said, trying to lighten her mood.
"Of course, I'm glad now. I'm going to see horses again. HORSES!" she exclaimed.
"You know I can include a stable behind the house if you like, it's not too late," he added.
"Then I'll be the happiest wife," she said joyfully.
"You deserve to be happy, my dear," he said while tidying up. "I think I should get going, I have a training session."
"Go, you might lose an ab if you don't work out for a day," she quipped as he smiled and jogged out of the kitchen.
She knew her man well, how he would go the whole nine yards to please her. That set him apart from others and his brothers, carefree and humorous. His dirty jokes were always too much to handle.
"Are you done fantasizing?" asked Firdausi, bringing her back to reality as she had zoned out, smiling to herself. She was already dressed in her baggy khakis and a sweater as usual.
"Was I?" Islam asked with a smirk.
"No, you weren't," Firdausi replied sarcastically.
"Are you going to work?" Islam asked as she started cleaning up before the maid arrived.
"No, somewhere else," said Firdausi as she grabbed an apple from the counter and walked away after saying bye.
"Why does school actually exist for goodness sake," complained Yasin sulkily. "All my classmates are dump, they think they are kids."
"Because you're still kids, Yasin. You're not a teenager," said Islam as she served him his custard with peak milk and strawberry.
"No, I'm not a teenager, I'm an adult. I got six packs," he said, tugging out his green shirt.
