Have you ever thought that your childhood crush would be so intoxicating that never give a chance to like anybody else? This is madness right?
This story is about Aliya and her eternal crush, her best friend Tahmeed.
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"You said you do...
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I can’t believe I just agreed to marry the girl I used to call my All.
Aliya Emdad....the girl who took my breath away the first time I saw her. I was only ten years old then, just a kid, but I’ll never forget the moment she stepped into our classroom. Nervous, yet looking like a porcelain doll, her hazel eyes wide and curious.
From that day on, I found myself watching her from afar, drawn to the quiet grace she carried. I loved the way she spoke, even though we hardly exchanged words back then. I wanted to be her friend, but I was too shy. Back then, I’d never even been friends with a girl.
Two years later, I finally gathered the courage to talk to her. Slowly, we became friends.
She was different from the other girls...girls who constantly sought my attention, who openly admired me. But not Aliya. She was like a summer breeze: cool, refreshing, yet leaving an impression long after she was gone. She didn’t talk much, except with those she held close. But when she did speak, it felt like I was seeing a side of her no one else knew.
I still remember the day she stood up for me against those taller boys in our class. I couldn’t look away....mesmerized by her strength and how fiercely she could protect someone she cared about. That moment cemented something deep within me.
I started to see her in a different light. Not just as a friend, but as someone… more.
That realization hit me during a hot summer day when we were in class eight. I had gone to school early for football practice, like I usually did, and afterward, I walked back to class. There she was.....sleeping on the bench, her long, waist-length hair spilling over like a river of silk. Her hair was usually covered, but today, it was open, untamed.
She looked so peaceful, so angelic.
"MashaAllah," I whispered to myself, knowing I should’ve looked away. But I couldn’t. I sat on a bench in front of her, captivated by her quiet beauty. For the first time, my heart stirred in a way it never had before. I wanted to reach out, to brush away those strands of hair from her forehead, to protect her in ways she didn’t even know she needed.
But before I could make a move, I saw other boys entering the room. Panic hit me. I quickly grabbed her hijab from the bench and covered her head. No one else should see her like this.
She stirred awake, confused.
"Don’t fall asleep in public places with your hair uncovered," I said, my voice low, almost possessive. "Don’t let people see them."
She blinked at me, still groggy. "My hair was wet, and there was no one around, so I removed my hijab to let it dry. I didn’t even realize I fell asleep," she explained in a sleepy tone.
