Her Red Scarf [Muslim love story]

Chapter 9

i'm really proud of this chapter. I hope you guys like it!    

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         I flatten my palms against my maroon dress, and smile, trying to hide my nervousness.

"Hi, Mr. Scott. how is little Ethan doing in his tutoring?"

He takes a step closer to me, frowning, and tense. "well, I'm glad you asked. Horrible, actually. You haven't been listening to my requests."

I clutch my bag harder. Where is my phone? "Would you like to elaborate?"

"Yes, I'd like to. How can you be so incompetent?"

I stare at him for a few seconds, trying to gauge whether he is serious or not. And, his unwavering gaze tells me he is. I'm in trouble.

"i.." I look around at the dimly lit plaza with mostly closed shops.

He takes a menacing step closer, and I have to take a step back. think think think.

"I want you to answer my question. How can you be so unprofessional? I told you many times to give him harder homework! My kid is incredibly smart."

My phone. I need my phone. "I understand you sir."

I gently adjust the strap of my bag, trying to inconspicuously reach for my phone in case I quickly need to make a phone call.

"At our academy, we strive for excellence, and we value the opinions of our customers. If you come tomorrow, we will make sure to give you the upmost attention."

He breathes out, and when he looks up at me, I genuinely fear for my life. Six foot two, and a white male, even if he hurt me, he's fearless against the law. He roughly shakes his head twice, and his gaze settles on me again, it's with venom, and angry steps towards. I start backing away, but I'm not fast enough. His hand closes around my neck, as I fish my phone out of my bag.

"What is this?" he says, touching my hijab with two fingers like it's a filthy thing. "Dumb Muzlims, I know I never should have trusted you."

The hijab doesn't choke me, but the possibility that it might choke to death sends my pulse for a ride. I start thinking about Rafiq, and how his reckless behavior led me here. And it breeds a different type of resentment in my heart. Right in that moment, all I could think about is that he broke the one promise he'd always said he'd keep—be in my corner when no one did. He disregarded my worries, hurt my feelings on multiple occasions and never saw anything wrong with it.

Mr. scoot lifts his arm, and I brace myself for the punch while fidgeting with the SOS button on my phone and praying to Allah for help.

His fist does connect with my jaw, but not fully because a voice I'd recognize anywhere speaks. Rafiq has Mr. scott against the wall beside me, in the same position I'd been in most seconds before, his eyes scanning my face for any injuries while speaking to scott.

"Mr. scott, I just caught you harassing a lady in the middle of the night. Not any. My wife."

He knees him in the stomach. Scott sucks in a sharp breath. His ego wouldn't allow him to show any more pain than that.

"Lucking for you, a camera has caught all of that. the cops are coming. I don't want to see you or your child on this premises again. I promise I won't be so forgiving next time. "

He adjusts his hold to press harder against the wall, his veins bulging. Rafiq's face is flushed, and his arms are shaking, barely able to contain himself. "But to answer to all your concerns, Miss Ihsan, which is Muslim not muzlim, is one the best. Trained by top educators. Attended multiple conferences on teaching, and won certificates."