Halaal Love

Chapter 30

Habibah's POV

I come home later that day, feeling very exhausted, even though I was only listening as to how Umar counsels a patient. The most fearing kind of patients are somehow the ones who are mentally damaged, yet they are criminals. It scares me because even though they're sick, they have the courage to do something illegal and harmful to other people as well as themselves.

"Are you alright?" Omar questions as soon as he shuts the bedroom's door. I nod my head with a smile. "Alright,"

"I'm going to take a bath," I say, placing my bag on the couch and run upstairs, straight to the bathroom. I strip out of my clothes before hopping in to the bathup, showering myself quickly.

I wrap myself around the bathrobe and my damp hair around the small towel before walking out to the bedroom to change into my pajamas. My hands rake up and down the closet, searching for my fluffy long-sleeved pajamas which I bought about a week ago from Max.

I smile at myself as I see the heart patterned pajama. I immediately wear my clothes and place the robe and the towel on the hanger in the bathroom to dry them off.

Just when I enter the bedroom, I find Omar sitting on the chair with the Qur'an in his hands. He smiles at me as he sees me, "Want to cook together like before?"

"Sure. I happen to be hungry too," I grin as he chuckles at my answer.

"Come on then," I nod. We head downstairs, straight to the kitchen and he immediately takes out a pan and a pot. "Noodle and omelette eggs?"

"Always," I laugh. The both menu are always the option when it comes to a quick, emergency food to lay down hunger.

I begin to cook the omelette while he cooks the noodle, slightly unfamiliar with the duration. "Is it done yet?"

"Omar, it's still not boiled yet," I protest. A groan comes out of his mouth as he grumbles some words. I only shake my head in response. Man's attitude...

"Ah, the omelettes are done," I smile, flipping the last omelette to the plate and setting it up on the table. Omar grumbles in annoyance.

"Gosh, Habibah, IS THIS NOODLE DONE YET?" I laugh while approaching him, looking at the water which is now boiled and the noodles which are already soft and soggy.

"Yepp, it's done," he breathes out a sigh of relief before turning the stove off. He pours the water and the noodle to a bowl and places it on the table while I scoop out the left-over rice from the rice cooker to the plate. "Ahh, so delicious,"

"Everything is delicious when you're hungry, Omar," I shake my head, laughing. He nods in agreement.

"Yepp!" he replies, popping the 'p'.

After we finish the dinner, we are all full, which make us lazy to wash the dishes.

"Nah you can do it!" I push him towards the sink, but of course he doesn't move a bit. He's way stronger than me, which makes me feel under-estimated.

"They say the woman who do more house works earn the Jannah!" I roll my eyes at him. And a man who helps his wife will definitely earn Jannah too.

"Yah! Let's do rock, paper and scissors!" I suggest. He thinks hard for awhile before smirking, nodding his head in agreement.

"Okay!" I begin saying 'rock, paper, scissor!'

"Ahah! I win! Have fun washing them, babe," he grumbles while I laugh, rolling my head back. He looks back at me with a mischievous smile.

"It's okay, as long as you call me babe," he winks. "I'll be alright," he whispers, just an inch away from my face. I push his face away from mines.

"Omar! You're supposed to wash the dishes, not flirt with your queen!" I flip my hair fabulously, as if showing him that I'm the queen in this game. He shrugs his shoulder.

"What can I say? I have a pretty queen," he winks, before finally washing the dishes. I hiss under my breath. Why does he always have to steal my breath away?

I sit on one of the chairs of the dining table, looking at him from behind, slowly drifting into my own thoughts. Aren't I a lucky girl? Gosh, what did I do that makes me be this lucky to have him in my life? I still remember the very moment when we met Sara's mom, and she misunderstood us as a couple. Honestly, I was feeling happy inside. It felt like my heart was a blooming flower. Slowly opening to let the sweetness of life dissolve in. And I really wanted to know how he—

"Habibah?" he questions, snapping me out of my thoughts. I shake my head to remove the thoughts away.

"Yes?"

"I'm done washing the dishes. Let's sleep now, or watch a movie?"

"Korean drama will suit in," I smile. He only shakes his head disbelieving my obsession with k-dramas, yet agreeing to watch it with me anyway.

At last, we spend the night watching the episodes of 'My Girl' that I want to re-watch. Only one word can describe that night where I lie on bed, watching k-dramas with the love of my life: daebak! (awesome/cool)

•••

From: Umar

Lunch at the canteen? My treat.

I shrug at the text. One lunch won't hurt, hopefully.

I just finished a consultation with a patient. She suffers a bit of mental health problem, due to her terrifying past. She was raped and got pregnant. Her parents couldn't accept it since she was the only child, so they kicked her out of the house and she had to earn money from her own hardwork. But even so, she managed to give the baby a proper life with special treatment. Even though I can tell that she has a trauma, and it may cause her mental to be damaged, she's an inspiration for me and others. She managed to give the baby a proper living from her own hardwork, without the support of her parents, or anyone else. Lovely heart...

I begin to walk faster to the canteen since lunch is only fifteen minutes left. All the way from my room to the canteen, I feel like someone's following me, but everytime I look back, there's no one. I decide to shrug the feeling away and pace faster towards the canteen. Thankfully, I arrive right at the time when Umar's standing to order some foods.

"Oh hey. What do you want to eat?"

"Chicken sandwich and a chocolate milk will do," he nods his head, conveying my order to the waitress. She repeats the order before giving our order from the microwave and the fridge. "Thank you,"

We take a seat near the window where we can see the little kids playing in the park. We eat in silence before I break the tension, "so what's this frank treatment?"

"Nothing. Just a friend's treat, you know," he shrugs like it's no big of a deal. I nod my head.

He stares at the kids playing swings, before turning to look at me, "do you have any kids?"

"I recently got married. No rush, I leave it all behind to Allah," I smile--though I suddenly think of what our child would be like. Would they have my nose or Omar's nose? Would they have my straight hair or Omar's curly hair? I suddenly giggle at the thought.

"Is something funny?" Umar's voice snaps me out of my thought. I shake my head, blushing. Wait, why am I even blushing?

I haven't realized what I'm doing is harmful for my marriage with Omar since it may cause fitnah--until something clicks in my head. The words from mom, "When you're married, everything you do out of the house and inside the house, you must have a permission from your husband. Your husband' s permission, may be Allah's permission too."

"Umar-I-I'm-I'm sorry I have to go-I.." I stand up abruptly, my knee hitting the table's leg but I don't care. I have to leave and apologize to Omar. What I've done is a sin. Astaghfirullah, I'm sorry ya Allah.. I'm truly sorry...

"What are you doing? Are you okay?" I nod my head at him.

"I-I'm sorry this-this is all wrong. My mistake.. I h-have to leave, thank you for-for the treat. I-bye!" I run away from him like I just saw a ghost or something terrifying. I know he must be confuse and I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry...