HER CRUSH

Chapter22

Zarah...
"I quickly wipe away the tears that slip from my eyes, trying to clear my mind. I'm so lost right now, I can't even think straight. The question lingers in my mind - is Abdul using me, just like Asma's said? His family will never approve of me, and his father will never let him marry me. Am I just wasting my time waiting for Abdul to marry me?

"For once in my life, I think getting into a relationship with Abdul is a bad idea. Slowly, my mind starts to drift back to the signs I ignored. He always complimented Asma excessively, telling me they've been together for a long time. I thought he was trying to annoy me or make me jealous, but now I realize I was wrong. Maybe he has been using me, just like Asma's said.

"I'm not after Abdul's wealth; Allah knows that. Perhaps breaking up with him is the best decision I can make to protect my dignity. I don't want anyone to tarnish my family's image or mine in the public eye."

My phone shrilled, and I rejected the call, just like I have done with all his calls since yesterday. He even got Sufyan to call me, but I refused to answer. I pushed the thought away and stood up, hearing Aunty Ramla call out my name.

"Aunty, I'm here," I muttered, looking at her.

She instructed You have a guest in the parlor, go and meet him." I knew exactly who it was - Abdul. I didn't say a word and walked back to my room, lying on my bed and wiping away my tears. God knows I love him, but I have to do this for my own good. I can't just sit back and hear insults about me and my family.

After a few minutes, Aunty burst into the room, scolding me for leaving him alone. So, I picked up my hijab and walked out. I spotted him on the couch, busy with his phone, looking handsome as always in his grey jeans and red tee, his Patek Philippe watch gleaming on his left wrist. I think he heard my footsteps, which made him look up immediately. I bowed my head down, avoiding eye contact.

I settled in, looking down at my feet, while he stared at me for a while, studying me before tearing his gaze away. After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke up, "Zarah, are we fighting?" I was surprised he initiated the conversation.

I ignored him, looking down, fiddling with my fingers.

He called out again, "Zarah!?" I looked up, and he repeated, "Are we fighting? I told you I'm sorry yesterday, and if it's about Asma, I swear I've taken action on that. Trust me."

He started to apologize again, but I cut him off, "I don't think this relationship will work out, Abdul."

His eyes widened in surprise, "What happened? Did I do something wrong? I apologize, please, Zarah, I'm sorry."

"I just think it's better if we go our separate ways. I explained,I'm tired of this relationship; it's become a burden."

But why, Zarah? We've built a beautiful relationship; why try to ruin it now?"He protested

"Because I don't think having a relationship with someone like you is a good idea.

"Why someone like me?" he asked, hurt evident in his tone. "What did I do to you, Zarah? If I've done something unknowingly, then I'm sorry."

I raised my voice, you're broken, Abdul. Your mental illness makes you unpredictable and toxic. I deserve better than someone who's constantly on the edge."

His face paled, his eyes widening in pain. "You think I'm toxic?" he whispered.

"Yes, I do, and I won't waste my time on someone who needs to be locked up in a psychiatric hospital. You need someone who's equally messed up, not someone like me who's sane and deserves a normal relationship. I instantly regretted my words, realizing the hurt I had caused. "This isn't right, I shouldn't have said that, ya Allah. Abdul isn't okay at all; he's suffering from IED, intermittent explosive disorder, that's why his mother doesn't like him to get angry at all."