They were seated comfortably in front of the TV, with their pizza feast spread out over the coffee table. Ben and Charlie were practically huddled together, grinning as they ate their dinner. Farrah and Richard sat next to each other with the plates between them as they ran out of space on the coffee table.
"Farrah," Ben spoke breaking the silence, "How come you can eat non-Halal pizza? I mean, Rich made a pretty big fuss â "
"Ben," Richard said, a warning laced his tone.
A blanket of quiet settled over the group until Farrah cleared her throat, "Well, I'm not eating the meat. I'm just having the vegetarian pizza."
"So, it doesn't matter that we are eating meat that aren't halal?" he questioned again.
"Well, to be honest, some Muslims are extremely particular. But I guess, growing up here I just adjusted. Plus, my parents were pretty relaxed, when we travelled and we couldn't find any Halal food, we'd just have the vegetarian option," Farrah explained.
"So, the word, Halal; it's Arabic?" Ben asked as he munched on his pizza.
"Yes," Farrah answered as she gulped down her water.
"You speak two additional languages; Arabic and Urdu?" Ben looked at her with wide eyes that Farrah couldn't help but chuckle.
"No, I don't speak Arabic per se. I use it in my prayers, and the terms that sometimes relate to everyday life, like the word Halal. I do speak Urdu though, my mum taught me," She answered smiling.
"Oh my god babe, I just had such a random thought," Charlie said suddenly.
Groaning, Farrah shook her head, "Do I even want to know?"
"Mr. Khan getting freaky all the while speaking Urdu," Charlie blurted without a care of who was seated with them. As a result, both Richard and Farrah choked on their pizza and looked at Charlie with eyes wide with shock.
"What? They spoke Urdu right?" Charlie asked, seemingly oblivious to what she just said.
"Charlie! Just...please...stop talking!" Farrah said, almost raising her voice. "Astaghfiruallah," she added in a whisper, she knew she was flustered. Ya Allah, Charlie and her big fucking mouth, Farrah though with a frown.
The rest of dinner passed as smoothly as possible, keeping in mind Charlie and her tendency to blurt the weirdest things. Once their stomachs were full, the four of them started on decorating the tree. And even then, Charlie saw how Richard's eyes were glued to Farrah's every movement. It was like he was saving every movement, every expression, every look, every smile of Farrah's in a memory bank; as though he was afraid he might never be given this chance to be this close to her again.
She couldn't help but notice all those small ways that he found to touch Farrah. How he would graze her hand, and the touch would linger. The way he placed his hand on the small of Farrah's back to draw her closer to him. But he never succeeded to bring Farrah any closer to him, Farrah pulled away as soon as she realized how close they were. This continued up to the second before Richard and Ben left the flat.
Now, being Farrah's roommate for almost four years gave Charlie the right to be able to call herself as her best mate. She would like to believe that she knew her friend well enough to decipher what she feels just from the expressions of her face and her body language; there was no denying that Farrah was equally attracted to the Prince.
There had been many late-night chats, in which they had both spilled their secrets over pints of ice cream and non-alcoholic beer. Charlie knew that Farrah experienced her first kiss when she was 14, it was a stolen kiss in a playground full of children, but it was her first kiss nonetheless. She had crushes and felt butterflies flying in a frenzy in her tummy when she was a girl. But the stories seemed to lessen when her mother passed, and it absolutely stopped when her brother passed.
Omar was this beautiful boy, who was on a teaching aid summer camp to Pakistan when terrorists invaded the school and opened fire. He died trying to protect his students; he was 22 then, Farrah was only 18. It was as if when her brother passed, she just stopped feeling. Sometimes I wonder why is it I'm the ones who's depressed and Farrah isn't? Charlie mused as she watches Farrah rinse the plates before arranging them in the dishwasher. One could suppose, that after all she had been through, boys were just a frivolous thing to spend time on. It was then that Farrah had found solace in Islam, and she had started practicing her faith to the best of her ability.
"Farrah?" Charlie said, watching her roommate and her best friend, move gracefully as she picked and rinsed of plates.
"Hmmmm..." Came a distracted reply.
"Can I ask you something?" Charlie asked, her back against the kitchen counter as she stood facing her friend.
Looking at Charlie's serious expression, Farrah gave a tired sigh, "No, Charlie. I do not like Richard. And he doesn't like me. Not like that anyways." Saying that Farrah continued with the dishes.
"Hypothetically, if he did; would you...I don't know, try?" Charlie asked.
"Even hypothetically, I would still say no." Farrah answered so sure of herself.
"Why?" Charlie dug deeper, genuinely curious to know the inner workings of her friend's mind.
"Because, Charlie, because...Princes don't marry the Pakistani girl, with the super dark skin," she said exasperated by her friend as she picked up the knives to rinse.
"See, that's funny. I would have thought you would have said that it was haram to have romantic feelings for someone who is not Muslim, or not your husband but-"
Farrah shrieked as the knives slipped from the hand and lightly scraped her palm. Quickly rinsing off the soap, Farrah turned the tap off and applied pressure with a tissue on the cut to stop the bleeding. Gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut, Charlie's words were on repeat in her ears. Haram. Haram. Haram. The word blared like an alarm in her mind.
"Hey, you okay?" Charlie asked with a tube of anti bacterial cream in her hand. "Come on, open up." With light gentle touches, Charlie applied the cream on the wound. It was a light scrape and it would be fine by tomorrow.
Looking at Farrah, Charlie saw how tense her friend was. She knew her friend was affected by her words. "There, all done," Charlie said.
"Thanks babe," Farrah said in a very quiet tone.
"You go ahead to bed, I'll finish this up," Charlie said as she rubbed her friends arm.
"Thanks," Farrah mumbled distractedly.
"Oh, and Farrah," Charlie said calling her friend back as she was about to leave the kitchen, "if Richard being a prince is the only thing that's stopping you, my humble opinion is that you should just fuck it and do whatever it is that makes you happy, makes you content."
Both women looked at each other, with the water running in the background. One having said her piece, and the other was slowly losing her peace thanks to clear blue eyes. Nodding, Farrah turned around and continued walking towards her room clutching her palm to her chest.
Numb, Farrah walked into her room and lay on the King sized bed. As her hand automatically reached out to switch on her bedside light, she winced in pain as her palm pressed against the table. The walls in Farrah's room was painted a rich olive color. She loved that it was dark and so cosy. But to add some dimension to it, she had added bright furniture to the room. The wooden pieces like her bedframe, bed side table, were all natural pine, anything else was a stark white. To soften it up a bit, she had throw pillows scattered on her bed in shades of pinks.
The best feature of her room though, if she had to pick over everything was the hammock swing chair that she had to get professionals to install. It was a thing of beauty. More often than not, Farrah found herself sitting there reading, or working on her laptop, or just sitting and relaxing unwinding from her day. But now as she looked over, she saw her jaanamaz folded neatly with her white praying garments folded above it â all stacked on her favourite spot.
Charlie's words were still blaring in her ears. Haram. How did Farrah not even for a second realise that whatever that she felt, was indeed haram? And the worst part of this realization is that, she didn't feel any guilt. She had hugged a man who wasn't her mahram, although granted she was trying to calm him down, but she didn't feel any guilt. All those small touches between them, and she didn't feel any guilt. Shaytaan, she thought shaking her head. She picked herself off her bed and headed into her ensuite and took her wudhu, deciding that she would zikir before sleeping tonight. That by remembering The Almighty right now, that He would remember her in her time of need.
***
dun dun duuuuuun
Character development alert! We can now see the more religious side to Farrah. And hopefully it explains a lot in regards to her as a person.
Anyways, I would love to know what you think of this chapter. I am beyond exhausted so I am off to bed (probably after reading a chapter or two on Wattpad) hehe
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