Take off your Hijab (Rewriting)

Proposal rejected✅

"Said you want me out of your life so I'm just a dead man waking tonight"

Third person's POV

"Nice to see you again, Amal," Zach said smoothly, leaning forward and resting his head on his hands. His gaze held that disarming intensity she remembered all too well, something that had always put her on edge. It felt like a dance they'd done before—a little closer, a little sharper—but now they were older, each carrying the weight of the years they'd spent apart. Amal, however, wasn't about to let herself be swept up in his game.

"Why is he here?" she asked, her voice flat, laced with a disdain that bordered on icy. Her heart was racing, though she'd never admit it. Zach hadn't even flinched. If anything, he looked... amused? Of course. He would find this amusing. He had that same insufferable, arrogant smile that had driven her up the wall back then.

"Come on, Amal," he said with a slight smirk, voice deceptively casual. "Can't a guy drop in on an old friend?"

"Old friend?, Is that what we are now?" She crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering as she pinned him with a look that could make a lesser man squirm. "We haven't spoken in years, Zach. You can't just waltz back into my life and pretend everything's fine."

Zach tilted his head, watching her like she was a puzzle he hadn't yet solved. His posture was easy, relaxed, like he was in control of the conversation—but his eyes were sharper, the flicker of something unreadable in them. "If I recall, you were always the one to bring up the past." He leaned back slightly, mirroring her crossed arms. "I'm just here to say hi, have a little dinner. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Nothing more," she echoed, the words bitter on her tongue. "And I'm supposed to believe that?"

"Believe whatever you want, perhaps you might even be right" he shrugged, as if her trust was inconsequential  but there was a brief moment where his eyes betrayed something darker—regret, maybe—or was it fear?.

Her eyes narrowed. "So you can disappear on me again, just like before?, I believe we are too grown to be playing such games now Zach"

The room had grown quieter around them, and Zach's smile dims, his façade crumbling like an expensive set of glass cups, a frown appears on his face, as he looks up at his friend who stared at him with a guarded look in her eyes. "It wasn't that simple, Amal. Things... happened."

"Things always happen with you, Zach." Her voice softened, the frustration in her words edged with something else, something she wouldn't name. "Maybe that's the problem."

Their eyes met, a tense silence stretching between them. She wanted to stay angry, to push him away with words alone, but there was a part of her—a stubborn, reckless part—that was all too familiar with this rhythm.

They locked eyes for a moment, and she could feel a flicker of something—something unspoken—pass between them. She wanted to keep her distance, to keep him at arm's length. But the heat in his eyes... It unsettled her. She broke eye contact, her eyes darting away, focusing instead on the space between them.

Swallowing hard, she turned her gaze toward the other end of the room, where her mother was busy in the kitchen. "Mom, why is Zachary here, please?"

Her mother paused for a moment, wiping her hands on her apron as she caught the tension in the room. She glanced between the two of them, as if she understood more than Amal wanted to admit. "Calm down, Amal. That's not how you talk to a guest—or anyone, really. Besides, Zach is family—he's always welcome here. Isn't that right, Zachary?"

Zach's expression softened at the mention of family, but it was fleeting. His gaze flicked over to Amal, as if trying to gauge her reaction. His eyes searched hers for a moment, and then, as if to ease the sudden tension, he gave her a tight nod.