Farrah Ahmed wishes for a cliché life, one in which she would have a pleasant childhood, become a rebellious teenage girl and graduate college with a huge smile on her face.
However, at 22, she's drowned in responsibilities that chip at her resilien...
Farrah "What were you doing?" Zayyad said menacingly, I looked up to see that he still had on an angry expression.
"Sir, actually you held on to my hand, I was only trying to get my hands loose" I muttered quietly.
A baffled look replaced the one of anger, and soon enough, there was that coat of embarrassment in his features that had the anger i'd been feeling in my gut to melt away into a fluid warmth that worked it's way up to my heart.
Ya rabb, not this again
"......late, thanks for what you did the other day, I'm really thankful" I tuned in just in time to catch Mr Zayyad's words.
There was a seriousness in his tone as he thanked me, and with it, the gentleness that caused the madness that had owned me.
He was being sincere.
"You're welcome, sir" I said to him, willing the weight that had lodged itself in my throat to disappear.
There was a moment of silence, charged with the knowledge that we really had nothing to say to each other.
"I wasn't able to defer the meeting with Bruno and Bugaje the other day, so I have to attend it today. It wouldn't be right cancelling last minute" Mr Zayyad said.
"About that..", I said cautiously, mentally cursing my forgetfulness.
"I already spoke with Mr Bugaje's secretary. I informed them of your indisposition and he in turn, called back to inform me of Mr Bugaje's wish for your quick recovery and his wish that you should arrange a meeting sometime between two to four pm next week thursday".
And there it was.
That tenderness in his eyes that caused that weakness in her knees, threatening to unhinge my joints and leave me a stuttering, foolish mess.
How the skip in my heartbeat had become this giant ball of nauseousness, i had absolutely no idea. All i knew was that it had, and got worse with every look, every word and every look of amused fascination.
"Jazakillah khayran" Mr Zayyad said, the arabic rolling off his tongue in that fluid, deep tone.
"Wa ant fa jazakallah khayr" I answered back, hoping to God that my voice showed none of the nervousness that had enveloped me.
A quirked eyebrow, thick and dark was my only response.
"First time i've actually had someone give me that response since my days in MSA in college" He said, chuckling.
" First time? That's an exaggeration right?" I asked.
A laugh escaped him, setting the tightening knot in my stomach alight. My gut coiled tightly, heart following suit.
Ya Allah, how could a laugh do this to me? A laugh!
"You'd be surprised. I used to answer the greeting properly too. Got into an argument a few years ago with some blokes about how wa iyyakum was sufficient as an answer" He laughed again, pausing with a slight smile on his face as he shook his head.
Then turning to me, " Started using it too, after one too many strange looks from strangers".
There was a smile by now on his face, unconsciously formed and unwilling to leave. There was just something endearing about seeing him happy and smiling that caused a lightness in me.
The coil unfurled, causing a warm, fluttering sensation.
"Well..," I managed to get out after a moment. "I've never been in such a situation, considering I don't really get out much"
"Ahh" Mr Zayyad said, a look of mock realisation on his face as he smiled teasingly, eyes lit with an unprecedented level of amusement.
My heart stopped, ears craning to soak up every word he had to say.
"You're one of those introverts?" He said questioningly, baiting me into unnecessary banter.
"Really?" I asked. A small, airy laughter escaping me.
A shrug was my only response. Well, that and the still present teasing smile.
"Well, you could call me one of those. In the sense that I'm not a fan of outings, and have basically no friends" I said, eyes downcast.
I could feel the intensity of Mr Zayyad's gaze on me, the magnetic pull that commanded me to meet his eyes, but I knew that turning to face him would be a great mistake on my part.
I could imagine the horror on his face when he would see how flushed my face was, hear my sporadic breathing.
"Well, if it makes you feel any better Farrah, I'm a closeted introvert. I detest socialising but do it because I have to" Mr Zayyad lowered his voice like he was letting me onto some big secret, his eyes widening slightly as he pretended to look around the room cautiously for eavesdroppers.
I could feel my heart still for a brief moment, struggling to return to normal.
There was a tingling in my gut as I tried, failingly to fight the smile from stretching across my lips.
He'd called her Farrah.
Not Miss Ahmed, Farrah.
"It doesn't" I whispered in the same tone he had, heart stilling as he laughed just as his phone rang.
He glanced at his phone, expression darkening for the briefest moment before he turned to meet my gaze.
A small smile graced his face, one I was sure had been forced as he told me that he had some things to catch up with, and that I was excused for the day.
I nodded, feeling my mood dim a little.
"Farrah" My Zayyad said, halting me from crossing the threshold of his office, my gaze turned to him ignoring the weakness I felt.
"Thank you" I couldn't fight my smile at the sight of his, and frankly didn't want to.
"You're welcome sir, see you tomorrow" I said, finally making my way out of his office, and subsequently, his company.
Once I got off my high, the sky that had previously beamed warm rays on me felt chilly as I remembered Ammar's words.
Sighing deeply, I changed my route, hailing a cab as I contemplated my options.
Ammar had better have answers.
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