Booties ♥ver Boys

B.❤.B 31- A Frank Talk

*Farheen POV.*

When I see Fahmy about to storm out of the apartment I hide in a corner and wait for the elevator doors to close.

Why would they lie to me for so long? Where was she all this time?

I walk into the apartment and look at Leila; as much as I wanted to jump in her arms and say 'mama'; I could not help feeling betrayed. And why isn't she a muslim anymore.

I well remember my mother wearing a hijab and I'm almost certain she used to pray, what changed in her faith that she turned into a totally different person. No wonder I could not recognise her, because I had a different image of my mother in my head.

It took a while for her to notice me back there, she turns and meets my eyes in surprise. My eyes filled with tears, I wanted to say so much but at the same time I didn't want to give her the privilege of hearing my voice.

"You are back?" She says and approaches me. "Where did you go?"

She says trying to touch me and I step back. "Is something wrong dear?"

"yes, there is?" I ask my voice shaky for trying not to cry. "Until thirty seconds ago my mother was dead." I say and she opens her mouth surprised and covers it with her hands.

"Farh, listen to me." She tries approaching but I dodge from her touch.

"Who are you now? Where have you been? Why did everyone just lie to me?" I ask all at once.

"You father kept you away from me. He did the impossible to keep us apart, I will never forgive him for that." She explains. "And when I finally got the chance to at least talk to you, I was afraid I would lose you if I told you who I really was. For a moment I thought you would recognise me, but for you I was dead."

I observe her for a while, I can see pain in her eyes. "Let's just sit and talk through this." She suggests, I only shake my head in disbelief and taking my bag from the couch I leave without letting her say another word.

I didn't want to hear, there was no excuse for what she did; what they all did.

*Ilhaam POV.*

I patiently waited for one hour outside that tennis court as Fahmy kept him self busy hitting the tennis-balls that the machine was reliesing.

He was definitely mad, out of the mind mad; with the violence that he is hitting the balls I definetly feel sorry for the racquet.

Looks like therapy for me.

"Fahmy." I try calling, he doesn't even look at me. "Don't you think it's enough. I have the feeling that it's making you even more angry. You know neither the racquet or the balls blame for it." I try and he hits the next ball even harder. I flinch on that.

I'm kinda scared.

"Ok." I say opening the gate to the court, I walk towards him. "Okay, just stop it."

"Step away." He says and strikes another ball.

"Fahmy, please talk to me. Anger is not good, if you don't want to talk to me pray, talk to Allah." I try.

"I said step away." He says and I move standing in front of him to at a distance so that he doesn't hit me with the racquet.

"Fahmy, I can't see you like this." I utter and he keeps on his business. I really want to help. He's not making it easy at all.

Suddenly I feel one of the balls hit on my back. I groan in pain and kneel to the ground as my spine felt to be cracked open.

"Ilhaam, are you ok?" He says kneeling next to me and observing me.

"More than in pain, I'm worried about you." I say glaring at him.

"You know I'm not worth that worry. You know better that I'm not that good guy that Farheen pictures me. Why are you even still here?" He say already laying on the ground.

"What are you talking about?" I ask frowning in a scolding tone. "You just have to stop making the wrong decisions, stop joining the enjoyment of deception that our youth is emerged in. Forget that woman, don't go that way."

"I can't stand her, I really can't. As much as I try to forget her I can't forget her last words to me." He silences for a while. "She shook me and told me I was the reason for her unhappiness, I was the reason she was stuck in a marriage with my dad. I had my hands around her waist and begged her to not go, and she hits me with that."

"Forgive and forget."

"It's not easy, having your own mother telling you that you are a hindrance. But, anyways." He says sitting up right. "Thank you. Before, I would find myself in a private party with alcohol and girls, but now I know better."

"Oh." That's all I got to say. Man, did I break through him. Is he just being frank? "So, I guess the tennis balls violence is a progress." I say and we giggle.

*****

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