Struggling with the language of French,the protagonist's mother decides to hire a French tutor for her only daughter.
What happens when, 𝐴𝐴𝑌𝐴𝑇, an ordinary girl is mentally and sexually harassed by her male tutor? Is it her imagination? Or is...
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Constantly stalking his profile was a bliss. He looked so gorgeous in the pictures. There were 78 photos, 167 friends and 3 follows on his profile. Yes! I have mentally noted everything. I literally got so obsessed with this man already.
School had been a mess today, with three continuous French classes , that means double the homework.
Currently, my whole room is so untidy with rolled pages on the ground, becoming a victim of my futile efforts to complete the French homework.
Today's homework was to write an essay on the importance of French. Like what the hell? Is he a French teacher or English professor? Well I highly doubt his capabilities.
My fingers have become numb from writing the essay for an hour. I can feel a stinging pain on it creating a reddish swollen on the upperside of my middle finger. Laptop was kept beside my lap with the google translation displaying on the screen.
I have been trying to get my hands smooth in French essay but all in vain.
This is so unfair. How can I write an essay in a language I never learnt before? I can't really blame the teacher, as I was the one to opt for it and now I am highly regretting it. The only desirable thing French has given me is my tutor Maaz Qureshi, whom I will be visiting today for the tuition at sharp 4 pm.
Thinking of him itself makes me blush ostentatiously reddening my cheeks.
It striked me to check upon the time. It was 3:40 already.
I closed my laptop, threw all the rolled papers in the trash bin and barged into the washroom before taking a modest dress from my wardrobe.
Quickly I got changed into my chestnut shirt, stiffing my legs into my skinny jeans. The shirt was a bit loose and transparent, so I draped a white shawl over my neck.
I graced my countenance with winged eyeliner and nude lipstick which was hardly visible to the naked eye.
Scouting into the mirror, I blushed wounding my cheeks into rosy tint. Placing the palm on my face, I started daydreaming.
"You are getting late. Come fast Aayat." My mom screamed to the top of her voice. In a jiff, I gushed myself.
I hurried my pace downstairs and stomped out of the house where my father was waiting for me in his grey Landrover.
I greeted him and he gently smiled looking at me.
"You look pretty Mashallah." My heart flustered listening to those words. He certainly has to be the best father.
"Thanks Abbu." I snapped putting seatbelt around my waist.
He placed a kiss on my temple and we drove to Maaz Qureshi's house.
All the way to his house, he kept explaining me to study well, complete the homework's properly, pay attention to the teacher's words etc. Asking me not to disappoint my Ammi.
