Halaal Love

Chapter 38

Assalamualaikum!! I'm extremely sorry for not updating quickly :/. I just feel bad after getting some rude messages about this story.

I just want to tell you, again, that I'm a student. I'm a daughter and a sister too. I'm very much busy, everyday, so I apologize if I don't update as per my schedule. Sometimes I run out of ideas or I'm not in the mood. You can ask other authors too, they must've had times when they run out of ideas and when they're not in a mood. So those who can't wait, then don't. If you want to stop reading because I don't update regularly, then you may stop, I won't stop you. And for those who are still waiting, thank you :) Barakallah.

Here's a special, long chapter for you all :) Hope you enjoy!

Habibah's POV

People usually wake up due to their alarm, but I'm not in the same case. I jolt up, not only in surprise, but in amazement too. The sound of adzaan can be heard through the whole flat.

I rub the both of my eyes and stretch out my arms. Oh, did they finally built a masjid near to this area—the question to my inner-self is interrupted by a yawn.

I glance at my left to see Omar who has just woken up from his sleep. His usual tousled hair, is more messy and his eyes are still half-open—not to mention how snores are still escaping from his lips. I have the urge to laugh, but decide to hold it back in.

“Oh, they have a masjid?” He mumbles, perhaps unconsciously. I stifle a laugh.

I cough, reviving myself from stifling a laugh, “Yes, perhaps.” I hop off of bed and pull my hair into a bun, swiftly and messily. I turn on the light before entering the bathroom to perform Wudhu’.

“I'll see if they have the women side for the masjid, okay? For now, you can pray at home.” I nod at Omar who's fixing his thobe. He flashes a smile before leaving the flat.

I grab the praying cloth and mat from the drawer and lay the mat on the floor, facing the qiblah while wearing the praying cloth. The praying cloth is actually a hijab—a massive, long hijab and a skirt, a long one too. It's purpose is to cover our body parts, which is supposed to be covered while praying. It's usually used in case when you're wearing jeans, skirt which doesn't cover your feet, or even at home when you're not wearing hijab.

As soon as I raise my hand for takbir and my lips pronounce the words, “Allaahu Akbar,” everything around me becomes a blur and I focus on my Creator, Himself.

I'm washing the dishes when I hear the door open and then shut—which is definitely Omar, or if not, I should be getting a hold of the tupperware or the pan instead.

“Oh you're cooking?” I breathe out a sigh of relief at Omar's voice. I wipe my hands with the towel before turning to look at him.

“Yeah I am. Why? Wanna help?” I smile innocently—which is of course a sarcasm. He chuckles, feeling defeated I guess.

“Gosh, you're so sassy.”

“I'm usually good, try not to annoy me in a day that ends after twenty-five hours.” He luaghs louder. “You could've told me properly okay? Don't annoy me early in the morning.”

“Fine, miss sassy. Make me breakfast? Please?” He places his arm around my waist which I push away.

“Now, don't get all touchy okay? I'll melt and I won't be able to make your breakfast. So move away! You can watch the T.V, I can help myself, thank you.”

“You're the only person who doesn't need help.” He mumbles while leaving the kitchen.

“I will ask your help once you learn the meaning of the word 'help'!” I yell.