#152 in Chicklit 12/03/16
*********
Two crazy Muslimas
Two Muslim Bad Boys
Two different worlds
Two different stories
Only one thing in common:
Islam
It's just Elham, Farheen
Zayn and Fahmy facing the hustles that adulthood brings and learning to be...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It was just touching the tip of my shoes outside my room and the complain squeak of the wood material, made feel as if a thunder cracked the sky opened. That's how much my mind trips when I try to sneak out early in the morning without mum noticing.
I press my eyes closed and clench my teeth hoping that maybe that will reduce my weight pressure on the floor. "This won't work, right?" I whisper to myself. "Stupid, of course she will hear. It had to be today, only today that I want to sneak out, they are not making noise."I complain removing my shoes, to cross the living room without warning my mum. " Everyday I try to sleep a bit more, but these boxes of noise that my brothers are don't let me. Today that I need them making noise to distract my mum, they simply decide to not make noise, at all." I talk to the shoes in my hand before noticing a frowning boy with wondrous eyes on me.
"Who are you talking to?" my little brother asks already in school uniform, looking at me like I'm some kind of crazy person.
"Hush." I put my hands to my lips, gesturing for him to go away and quiet.
"You are weird." He says rolling his eyes. I stick my tongue out to him and he retorts doing them same before running when I tease him. I close my door slowly and tip toe away.
"Ilu can you help me? I'm missing a button on my shirt." A voice says behind me making me jump. I turn trying to hold my breath still with a mad face.
"It's a single button, remove it from one of your shirts." I whisper to Mustafa and he just looks at me with chin dropped.
"I can't just-" I interrupt him with a face to his hand.
"Wear another shirt, you have three shirts like that." I reply, it's that practical.
"They are dirty." he replies and I stop in time looking blankly ahead, remembering that I did put the clothes to wash. No, I didn't. Of course, I did. Didn't I? No, I didn't right!
"ILU." I hear mum call. I didn't wash them. I bury my face in my hands.
I do what pops in my mind the next minute, run. I had exactly 5 seconds and I break that record of 3 seconds to reach to the door and be in the bus stop.
I reach there panting and sit on the bench to put my shoes on, I take a deep breath of relief and start contemplating my beautiful foot huggers. You know those batterflies in the stomach that you feel when you are falling in love? That desire to be close, hug and kiss and love unconditionaly. That's what it got me feeling, breathless. And sleepless...
I left home 7'O am to make sure that I'm the first one to get into the shop, 75%off, how crazy is that? Shouldn't be so attached to material, but Shoes are important; not really. But more important than Boys. We shouldn't love the adornments of this world, I know. My mum always tell me how I should start being more modest on what I wear and not wear heels because they give a booty tooch and that's immodest.
