•AN OBLIVIOUS ONE•

FARID✨

The morning was crisp and busy, the kind of morning I preferred to lose myself in work rather than dwell on anything personal. Amir and I had an important business meeting with a potential partner today—some new company looking to strike a deal with us. I had been focused all morning on the numbers, figures, and strategies, but there was always a part of me that simmered with unresolved frustration. Islam’s presence in my life was like a thorn, one I couldn’t seem to pull out, no matter how much I tried to ignore it.

The meeting went as expected—smooth, efficient, businesslike. The kind of environment where I felt most in control. We shook hands with the CEO, made polite small talk, and sealed the deal. As we left the boardroom and walked down the hall towards the exit, I could sense Amir’s eyes on me. He had been unusually quiet all morning, which usually meant he was preparing to ask me something.

We stepped into the elevator, and just as the doors slid shut, Amir finally broke the silence. "So, what happened after you got home last night?"

I glanced at him, my face neutral, but inside I knew exactly where he was headed. Amir knew me too well—better than anyone, in fact—and he always had this annoying way of knowing when something was eating at me.

"Nothing happened," I said flatly, hoping to end the conversation before it even started.

Amir let out a short laugh. "Come on, Farid. I know you better than that. After the way you were fuming yesterday, you can't tell me you just went home and nothing happened."

I clenched my jaw, debating whether to keep my silence or give him the truth. But Amir wasn’t the type to drop something once he latched onto it.

"I handled it," I finally muttered.

"Handled it? What does that mean?" he pressed, raising an eyebrow.

I sighed, irritated by his persistence. "I confronted her. Made it clear I don’t tolerate disrespect."

Amir stopped walking and turned to face me, his expression shifting from casual curiosity to serious concern. "What do you mean by 'confronted'? You didn’t do anything stupid, did you?"

I met his gaze, unmoved. "I handled it in the way she needed to understand. She crossed a line, Amir. She was with another guy—how does that look for me?"

Amir shook his head, clearly not satisfied. "Farid, you’re blowing this way out of proportion. Nobody there knows she's married, so how's she tarnishing your image? You’re so caught up in controlling everything that you can’t even see what’s right in front of you."

I frowned, already feeling defensive. "What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m wrong for laying down rules? She’s disrespecting me by being out with another man. I won’t have it."

Amir folded his arms, clearly ready for a full debate. "Listen to yourself. You keep talking about your image, your control, your rules. Where does she fit into all of this? You’re treating her like she’s beneath you, not like someone you can build a life with."

"I don’t need to build anything with her," I snapped. "She’s nothing but a miserable housemate, Amir. I don’t care about love or any of that nonsense. This is just an arrangement, and it’ll stay that way."

Amir groaned, running a hand through his hair. "You’re so stubborn, man. You don’t even give her a chance. You’re pushing her away before she even tries to get close. Is that what you really want? A miserable life with a miserable housemate?"

I scoffed. "What life? There’s no life to build with her. I never asked for this, and I’m not going to pretend that I’m interested in making it something it’s not. I won’t love her, and that’s final."

Amir’s frustration was evident now. "You think you’re in control of everything, don’t you? But guess what, Farid? You’re just making things harder for yourself. You’re turning this into a war when it doesn’t have to be."

I shot back, my voice firm. "There’s no war. I don’t owe her anything beyond the basics. She’s not someone I can—or will—love. So stop trying to force some fairy tale that’s never going to happen."

We stared at each other, the tension between us thick. Amir shook his head slowly, a look of disappointment settling on his face.

"You’re going to regret this," he said quietly. "You might not see it now, but one day you will. And by then, it’ll be too late."

I held my ground, refusing to let his words sink in. I had made my choice. I wouldn’t let anyone—least of all Islam—complicate my life any more than it already was.