Habibi And Love

Episode 11

Ibrahim's POV:
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I never thought I'd step foot in this shop again. The peeling sign above the door still reads Flower Blossom Shop in her looping script. It's strange, really—how time stops in places like this. The inside smells of dried petals and faint rot, a perfume of memory and decay. I hate it.

She built this place with her hands. Every counter, every pot, every damn flower arrangement—she poured herself into it. When I was eight, I thought the shop was alive, like her energy bled into the walls. Now, it's just a graveyard.

I'm not sentimental, and I sure as hell don't care for flowers. They die too easily, like people. Like her.

The last memory I have of her is in this shop. She was behind the counter, her hands stained green from handling stems all day. I don't remember what she said, only that she smiled. By the time I got home from school that day, she was gone. Car accident they said. Eight years old, and I was left staring at her empty chair at the dinner table, wondering why people disappear.

Now I stand in this shop as a man, cold and indifferent to most things, but this place stirs something uncomfortable in me. I run my fingers along the counter she used to work behind, and I feel... nothing. Not sorrow, not joy. Just something I am not used to feeling?

I tell myself I'll keep it running, not for her, but because it's mine now. I can make it something else, something less her and more me. But as I stand here, surrounded by her ghost in the form of dusty vases and faded petals, I wonder if I'll ever be able to separate the two.

So here I am, bold enough to face what's left of her, cold enough to not break while I do it. Flowers die, and so do people. But maybe—just maybe—I can make something grow again. Even if I don't feel it, maybe someone else will.

I've never been one to believe in redemption. Life doesn't hand you second chances; it just beats you down until you stop feeling the hits. That's what I thought—until I saw her.

The first time she walked in, the shop felt... different. She had this presence, like she didn't belong here, like she was too vibrant for a place this hollow. The way her pupils danced when she was looking around the broken shop.. She never knows how lively her stare can make a place. How she can make someone feel when the person is actually as stoic as me.

I don't know what it is about her. Maybe it's the way she handles the feminine aura. So graceful every time they are present. The way her abaya sways in wind makes it hard to even take eyes of her.

But she just makes me wanna make her mine completely. Heart,body and soul. I just want to make her mine in every way possible. To be with her every time I open my eyes in my king sized bed. I want her in my arms. Hugging tight when she will find it hard to even breath,, I want her to scold me for gripping too tight. Then I will make her giggle while I tickle her. But then... I want to ravish her, want to make her mine again. I want to see what she is hiding under her abaya.
I know it's wrong to think about her the way I do. But from when I am thinking about what is right and what is wrong? But..,,She's everything I'm not—kind, patient, full of life. And I'm... well, me. Cold, rough around the edges, someone who can barely look at a flower without thinking about how quickly it wilts.

Everytime she is around me. Ugh!!!! The thought itself is making me lose my mind! The way her eyes looks at things... I WONDER WHEN THEY WILL LOOK AT MINE IN FEAR WHEN I WILL SAY HER THAT SHE BELONGS TO ME DAMMIT!!!!! Ibrahim freaked out.

Every time I watch her,not in a good but in a creepy way—at least I hope she gets the thrill—but how come? I haven't seen her without that abaya yet,. should I get rid of the abaya's? Ibrahim chuckled evil...

The thought of her working under me just makes me think how the hell I am gonna survive my male orgasms?! She makes me utterly nervous and weak though it doesn't seem like to be. But... In somewhere in me.. I just want to be a little warmer for her. A little soft and... something I don't know. This shop.. my mother. And her presence. What is happening? What's gonna happen? I don't know.. but let's hope I am not gonna lose my mind over her and be a little patient in this little game. Which J planed at the beginning. But yes with changes! First I wanted to wreck her and destroy her, but now.. I want her as Mr.Khan! I want her to me completely... Let's see how it feels to have a religious chick around now.