WINNER OF HEART♡

◇part 7◇

As I gazed at Ramin, the world around us seemed to blur, leaving only the two of us in focus. My heart raced uncontrollably, its rapid beats echoing in my ears. Unable to meet his eyes for too long, I lowered my gaze, trying to steady my breath. "I have to go now. Allah Hafiz," I murmured softly, my voice almost trembling.

I gently squeezed Zahra's hand, and we turned to leave. Yet, something within me compelled me to glance back. When I did, I saw Ramin still standing there, his eyes fixed on me as if he were trying to memorize every detail of my face. A warmth spread through my chest, and I quickly averted my eyes, a small smile playing on my lips.

Zahra noticed the change in my expression and grinned. "Ahan, Janan is blushing!" she teased, her voice light and playful.

Annoyed yet unable to hide my own smile, I shot her a look. "Just wait-my time is going to come to tease you," I replied, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

Zahra pouted, her lips curving downward in an exaggerated expression of sadness. "I'm waiting for that time desperately," she mumbled, half-jokingly, but I could sense a hint of truth in her words.

Her vulnerability made me chuckle, and the tension that had built up inside me began to dissipate. I was grateful for Zahra's presence-she always knew how to lift my spirits, no matter the situation.

As we approached my house, my steps faltered when I noticed the lights were on inside. My parents were home earlier than I had anticipated. Panic gripped me, and my heart began to race once more, this time out of fear rather than excitement. "Baba is going to scold me," I whispered to Zahra, my voice filled with dread. I quickly hid the box of chocolates in my bag, hoping that my father wouldn't notice.

Zahra, sensing my anxiety, gave me a reassuring look, though I could see the worry in her eyes as well. We both took a deep breath and entered the house.

My father was sitting on the couch, his posture stiff and his expression stern. The air in the room felt thick with tension, making it hard to breathe. Zahra and I exchanged a quick glance before greeting him, our voices almost in unison. "Assalam Alaikum," we said, trying to sound as calm as possible.

He looked at me, his gaze piercing through me with an intensity that made me shiver. His response was cold, almost mechanical. "Walaikum Assalam."

I averted my eyes and quickly moved towards my room, hoping to avoid further confrontation. But as I reached the door, his voice stopped me in my tracks. "Janan, come here."

His tone left no room for argument. I swallowed hard, feeling my palms grow clammy as I turned to face him. Zahra's eyes followed me, her concern evident. I gestured for her to go to my room, and reluctantly, she complied, though she kept glancing back at me.

I walked over to my father and sat down beside him, my gaze fixed on the floor. I couldn't bear to look at him, not when I knew the disappointment that awaited me in his eyes.

He remained silent for a moment, and in that silence, my anxiety grew. Finally, he spoke, his voice sharp and filled with anger. "What were you doing outside, huh? Do you even know what time it is? Where is your discipline, Janan?"

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I flinched, my shoulders hunching as if to protect myself from the verbal blows. I kept my gaze lowered, my lips trembling, but I couldn't bring myself to speak.

He wasn't finished. His voice grew louder, more demanding. "I'm asking you something, Janan!"

At that moment, my mother appeared from the kitchen, her expression a mix of concern and disapproval. She said nothing, but her presence was a reminder that I wasn't alone in this.