𝔉𝔏𝔄𝔐𝔈𝔖.

EPISODE FOURTY ONE 41: AGAIN.

Flashback.

AUTHOR'S POV
Julian sat with his two best friends, shamelessly rating how much they "loved" the girls they'd been with, their foolishness dripping from their voices. They were content with their reckless lives.

"Yo, Jay," Bryson began, swirling his champagne, "I saw this hot, covered-up girl at your school the other day. You up for another bet?"

"Nah, don't even go there," Julian replied, rolling his eyes. "You know I don't do towel heads. They act like they're the best thing in the world. Besides, I'm good with the girls I have-occasionally."

Bryson leaned back, smirking. "C'mon, man. This one's worth adding to your track record. You've done this to so many girls-it'll be a breeze."

Their conversation was interrupted when Julian's sister, Anna, walked in wearing a short skirt and crop top, clearly ready to go out.

"What are you guys talking about?" she asked, nosy as always.

"Your brother's too scared to take a little bet on the hijabi at his school," Bryson said with a sly grin.

Anna's expression darkened. "That stupid girl? The one who had the audacity to embarrass me in front of a whole restaurant? I'm Anna, and no one does that to me and gets away with it. Brother, you're taking that bet. Get her in your bed and ruin her life."

"If you insist," Julian shrugged, his tone cold and detached. "Besides, they're the reason Mom's gone. It's time to make them pay."

"But a girl like that?" Matt chimed in curiously. "Do you think she'll agree to get close to you?"

"He doesn't need to sleep with her," Anna interjected with a wicked smile. "Just make her look like a whore. Post some pictures. Break her mentally. That'll do the trick."

"How much if it works?" Julian asked, his interest piqued.

"Twenty thousand pounds," Bryson offered.

"Fair enough. Let's start." Julian's voice hardened, resolute. "I'll make her pay-for humiliating my sister and for her people killing my mom."

---

JULIAN'S POV
I miss her. I miss her eyes, her smile-everything about her. That kiss we shared meant everything to me.

I regret everything. I regret listening to Bryson and Anna. I regret toying with her. I broke her heart, and in doing so, I broke mine. I've prayed for forgiveness, but she won't even take my calls. She won't look at me at school.

Walking through the campus now, my head hangs low with shame. I've become a laughingstock, even though idiots like Dylan and Ryan hail me for what I did.

Then, I saw her-swinging gently, seeking tranquility amidst the chaos I caused. Even in her pain, she was beautiful.

"Nick," I called softly, and she looked up, disdain flashing in her eyes. She went back to her Quran, ignoring me.

"Hadizah, please hear me out," I pleaded.

She stood, walking away.

"Hadizah, for the love of Allah and the Prophet Muhammad, please," I begged.

She stopped, glancing at her watch. "Fifteen minutes. That's all you get."

"Nick, I'm sorry-"

"Don't call me that!" she snapped. "You've lost that privilege. It's Hadizah. Hadizah Damilare. Now talk."