Protection

Nice Zayan

"What are you going to wear at the Christmas party?" I heard one of my colleagues ask amidst all the chaos and chit-chat.

"I bought this lacy black dress; it's very pretty."

"I am thinking about wearing a red silky dress," the other one said.

Everyone in the canteen seemed fixated on the Christmas party, forgetting everything else. Mr. Awan assigned me the task of choosing a suitable menu. I don't understand how he could entrust me with such a significant responsibility, but as time passed in this office, the responsibilities grew larger and larger.

Glancing at my smartwatch, I realized that my break would be over in 5 minutes. I stood up, tossing the leftovers of my baguette into my bag after wrapping it in a small paper bag. It felt strange to have lunch without Ahmed; he was probably just sick today.

Taking the elevator up to Mr. Awan's office, I popped a mint into my mouth, letting it dissolve and freshen my breath.

I hadn't even decided what to wear to the party tonight. Maybe a long and simple black dress? Or perhaps pairing one of my abayas with a belt and some stylish heels?

I found myself wishing I were a man; they could wear whatever they wanted and get away with it.

The elevator doors opened, revealing the corridor leading to my office and Zayan's.

I opened the door, and the instant smell of alcohol hit my face, causing me to scrunch my face in disgust.

"Sir, this one is the best of them all," a man with an Italian accent said, holding a cup of a burgundy red drink. Mr. Awan and Hassan took sips.

Do they know it's haram to drink?

They do; they aren't dumb, two very mature men.

As I walked inside, they all glanced at me before returning their attention to the wine.

"My personal favorite is this one, perfect for the party tonight."

No wonder they are tasting the alcohol; it is for the Christmas party, haramis.

"Lady, would you like to try?" The Italian man asked me.

"No thanks; I don't drink."

"It's very tasty; I promise you-"

"I don't drink because of my religion."

"Mashallah, sister," Hassan said as he sipped the drink, making weird sounds with his mouth, as if he was chewing the wine.

"So you have never drunk before?"

I shook my head.

"Mashallah, stay that way. Do not be like us."

"Do not worry about that, love," I said to Hassan. In the UK, it's relatively normal to make such comments. However, I realized these kinds of jokes might not be suitable in front of Mr. Awan, who was looking at me as if I had done something illegal.

Hassan, on the other hand, didn't seem bothered at all. Mr. Awan was such a weirdo sometimes; I swear.

"What are you guys going to wear tonight?"

"I am thinking about wearing a navy blue tuxedo. What do you think, Zayan?"

"What a revolutionary idea, Hassan. Instead of a black tuxedo, you will wear a navy blue one that will look black in the dark regardless," I said sarcastically, acting as if I were gasping in shock.

"And what are you going to wear, a clown costume? Oh wait, I would not even notice the difference," he said, surprising me.

"Ha ha, very funny, Hassan. I am wearing an abaya, but stupid people like you would see it as a dress."

"I know what an abaya is; I lived in Dubai for many years. Good choice," Mr. Awan interjected. I had forgotten he was sitting in the room with us for a second.

"Thank you, Mr. Awan."

"You see, Hassan, being nice does not cost anything. You should learn something," I said without thinking. Zayan is nowhere near kind; my mouth just has to say words without letting my brain process the information first.

Hassan aggressively put his crystal glass full of drink on the table. The glass shook but surprisingly didn't fall.

"Did you just say I should learn to be kind from Zayan Daniyal Awan?" Hassan said, visibly and genuinely shocked, his mouth open and eyebrows raised.

"His middle name is Daniyal?" I didn't know that. That is so weird.

"I mean, yes?" I knew it wasn't true; Mr. Awan was the biggest jerk in the world, but I could not back down now. I still remember the time he asked me to sleep with him for money, and when I slapped him, he slapped me back, sending me back to freaking Pakistan.

"Yesterday he took his half-brother Arthur by his sweaters and was about to throw him off the balcony for scratching his car with the electric scooter."

"Zayan Daniyal Awan, his cousin Hassan Awan has a half-brother named Arthur?" I learn something new every day about these weird men.

"Half-brother," Mr. Awan clarified.

"Okay, that makes sense."

"Besides the point, he was about to throw his brother from the 5th floor. You're telling me to learn kindness from him?" He said pointing at Mr. Awan in clear disgust, making my lip twitch upwards.

"Listen to Zahra; she is a smart one. Learn kindness from me, brother; you will never find someone kinder than me," he said with a big grin, showing off his dimples and pearly straight white teeth to Hassan. That's a rare sight; he looked too handsome when he smiled. It's a good thing he keeps his poker face most of the time.

Hassan had his mouth open in clear shock, making it even harder for me to not burst out in laughter.

"Zahra, he is only nice to you; do not be fooled."

There, my smiles all went away. Ruined it.

"This is probably the first time in my life he has ever given me a compliment, and that is 'good choice.' I was joking; relax."

"In the 27 years I have known Zayan, he never gives out compliments. You should consider yourself lucky," Hassan said while looking at Zayan. They both were giving each other those looks friends give, but I couldn't relate, which I didn't mind. They are my colleagues, nothing else, and good eye candy. I just mind my business.

"Relax, Hassan," Zayan said.

"Am I lying?" Hassan said, grinning at him. He always has to make it awkward between me and Mr. Awan, shipping us every chance he gets when the guy literally hates me.

Zayan rolled his eyes as he flipped open his shiny laptop. How would they be able to work while being tipsy?

"It smells absolutely disgusting in here; how do you guys even drink this without puking?" I remarked, standing up and opening the window. The symphony of car horns outside immediately filled the office room, the bustling streets of New York loudly declaring their identity. The cold wind hit my face, forcing my features to adjust to the chill. The scent of polluted yet somehow fresh-smelling air was far better than the stench of alcohol.

Author's Note:

Hi, I'm back, I guess... thanks to the people who DMed me, I got my motivation back, yes, you Elsa. Anyway, as you can see, I have changed the style of my writing a little. I added some spice to our scared and honestly a little boring personality of Zahra. She has also worked for a lot longer at the office, so it does not make sense to be scared all the time around Hassan and Zayan. As you can see, she is way more comfortable around her coworkers, at least Hassan. Zayan, on the other hand, ahem yeah. They can work together, strictly coworkers. Will that change, though? 

I know the chapter is short, I am working on it but I just wanted to publish this to show ppl that I am alive and writing. 

Until next time...