VULNERABLE

PINK ABAYA AND SHIRTLESS

ABIDAT

The morning sunlight filtered through the windows, soft and golden, casting a warm glow over the living room as I sat at the dining table with Baba and Mama. It was a peaceful, comfortable kind of morning—the kind where everything felt slower, and the weight of yesterday hadn’t quite caught up with me yet. The sound of sizzling eggs and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as Mama moved around the kitchen, humming a tune under her breath.

I stretched, feeling the pleasant ache of last night's events in my muscles. We'd stayed out so late that I half-expected Baba to be upset, but he hadn’t said a word yet. I smiled to myself as I thought about the dinner party—the laughter, the food, the unexpected after-party that I couldn’t escape. My thoughts drifted, and I realized that the highlight had been winning the dance competition, even though I hadn’t intended to participate. They practically dragged me onto the stage, and before I knew it, I was lost in the rhythm, the music carrying me away.

I could still remember the look on Armaan’s face as I danced. He'd stood at the edge of the crowd, watching me with a mix of amusement and something else I couldn’t quite place. For a moment, our eyes had locked, and I’d felt a thrill run through me. But then, of course, the evening had spiraled into chaos as some of the guys started to stare. I hadn’t thought much of it until I saw the irritation flash across Armaan's face.

I laughed softly at the memory. He’d acted cool, but I could tell he wasn’t too happy with the attention I got.

“Abidat, what’s funny?” Mama asked, looking over her shoulder as she flipped a pancake. Baba raised his brows from behind his newspaper, curious.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing,” I waved it off, quickly hiding my smile.

“Nothing, eh? What time did you even get home last night?” Baba asked, lowering his paper and giving me that all-knowing look. He was teasing, but I could sense the real question behind it.

“I came home at a perfectly reasonable hour,” I lied, biting back a grin.

“Reasonable, huh? You call 1:00 a.m. reasonable?” Baba chuckled, shaking his head.

“I blame both of you, if you hadnt left me in the hands of armaan i wouldnt have come home late and you know about the after party too” I teased back, causing Mama to laugh from the kitchen.

“Fine okay maybe next time we won't try that, plus I heard you were winning dance competition eh?" Mama smiled brightly at me.

Baba grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, if I had known my daughter was going to start a dance revolution, I would’ve charged admission.”

The three of us laughed together, and I felt a sense of warmth and lightness settle over me. It wasn’t often that we all had these moments—where we just laughed and enjoyed each other’s company without the rush of life interrupting.

---

After breakfast, I went back to my room to get ready for our flight to Maiduguri. I slipped into my baby pink abaya dress, the fabric soft against my skin. The color was delicate, almost calming, and I paired it with a simple black hijab that matched my slippers. As I adjusted the hijab in front of the mirror, I couldn’t help but make a joke to myself, “I look like a strawberry sundae. Sweet, but with a little edge.”

I smiled at my reflection, pleased with my outfit. It was both modest and comfortable—perfect for a long travel day.

By the time we were in the car, headed to the airport, the excitement of the upcoming wedding preparations began to bubble up inside me. I turned to Mama, curiosity getting the better of me. “Mama, where are we staying in Maiduguri?”

She glanced at me, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “We’ll be staying at the Burhan residence.”

I nodded, keeping my face neutral, but inside, I was doing mental cartwheels. The Burhan residence? Armaan’s house? My heart skipped a beat, and I felt a rush of happiness that I couldn’t quite explain. The idea of being under the same roof as Armaan, even for a few days, sent a thrill through me.

As I settled back into my seat, my mind drifted to the dinner party again, and without realizing it, a small smile tugged at my lips. I couldn’t help it—memories of Armaan, of the way he watched me, of the subtle moments we shared without words—it was enough to keep me distracted for the rest of the journey.

---

When we arrived in Maiduguri, I was immediately struck by how beautiful the Burhan house was. The soft beige walls contrasted perfectly with the lush greenery surrounding the property. I had never loved beige on a house more. The house was grand, but in a way that felt welcoming, not imposing. It had that charm that made you feel like you could belong there.

Ummi—Armaan’s mother—was waiting for us at the entrance, her warm smile spreading across her face as she welcomed Mama and me. She hugged us both, making me feel like I was returning to a second home. Baba dropped us off and then left to stay with his cousin, leaving me and Mama in Ummi’s capable hands.

Ummi led us inside, and I marveled at the interior. The Burhan residence was even more stunning on the inside. The walls were painted in soft, neutral tones, with touches of gold and dark wood accents. The ceilings were high, and the chandeliers sparkled in the sunlight that streamed through the large windows. It was elegant, yet there was a coziness to it that made you feel like you could relax and just be.

Ummi guided us upstairs to the rooms we’d be staying in. As I walked through the hallway, I got an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. Something about this place felt familiar, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

Then it hit me. I had been here before. I’d played here as a child, running through these very hallways, laughing and chasing after aalim, no wonder the house seemed sl familiar.

When we reached my room, I was in awe. It was spacious, with a large bed in the center, draped in soft cream linens. There was a desk by the window, overlooking the garden, and the walls were painted in a calming light gray. The room had a simplicity to it that I loved—a balance of elegance and comfort. I could already tell this was going to be my little sanctuary for the next few days.

After settling in, I slipped out of my hijab and swapped it for a black cap, feeling a little more at ease now that we were indoors. I prayed Asr in the peaceful silence of my room, and afterward, I decided to take a little tour of the house. I wanted to reacquaint myself with the place, now that my memories had been triggered.

I quietly stepped out of my room and started down the hall, but what I didn’t expect was to see someone else.

As I passed the room across from mine, I caught a glimpse of movement. My eyes flicked toward the door, and before I could process what I was seeing, Armaan appeared—peeking out of the room.

I froze unable to move as heat rushed to every part of my face, aalim was there......

Shirtless....

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She has seen our habibi shirtless, here we go again.

Clap for me double update.