***Flashback***
11/02/2016
For some time now, Mahmood had been noticing numerous changes in the way Maimuna interacted with him. It seemed as though she was determined to prove her maturity, regardless of whether her actions were legal or illegal. As he was in the middle of explaining how horses are tamed, she suddenly held his hands, pretending to examine his ring "How come I've never noticed this ring, Hamma?" she asked, bringing his hands closer to her face in an attempt to get a closer look.
Alarms were blaring in Mahmood's head at that moment. Throughout the week, he had struggled control himself as Maimuna seemed to be everywhere, constantly touching him as if it was normal. Just two days prior, she had snuck up behind the chair he was sitting in, holding a comb in her hand. He hadn't even noticed until he felt her hand on his hair, combing through it as if it was a regular occurrence. He had to find a polite way to stop her, claiming he had a headache, just so he wouldn't hurt her feelings.
Maimuna had been making everything seem innocent until yesterday when she brought food into Mahmood's room. She had never entered his room before since she knew it was against Islamic etiquette, her intentions were clearly not innocent. The way she looked at him sent a wave of chaos through his already disheveled mind. Regret started to settle in about the decision to have him stay with them until the situation at his grandfather's house calmed down. The chaos she was brewing now was even bigger. She was determined to see him as more than just a brother, and his defenses were weakening due to her antics.
"Is this Azurfa?" she asked, examining the his hand more closely and he could feel her heated breath on his hand
In his mind, he sarcastically remarked, "Wow, what a great question, Maimuna." They were seated inside the gazebo at the far end of house, and he couldn't understand how she had managed to find him there.
Mahmood's focus wasn't on their hands; it was on Maimuna herself, his 17-year-old maimunatu attempting to trick him. He could sense the seriousness in her actions as she circled his palms, as if it was the most important in her life. He wanted to ask her how many times she had practiced this, how much thought she had put into it, because the idea of her doing it with someone else was unbearable for his heart to accept. He also wanted to stop her, but he found himself unable to do so. With each circle she traced on his palm, she broke down his defenses and infringed upon his self-control.
She looked up at him, and that same look was in her eyes, the one he had seen the day before in his room. Suddenly, his senses were betraying him.
"Mims," he managed to say softly his words barely audible over the pounding drums and echoing heartbeat in his chest. The kohl on her eyes seemed to collide against him, along with her scent and whatever concoction of perfume Maimuna was wearing that day. It was clear that she had prepared herself for whatever she intended to do with him. Very well prepared.
She continued to smile coyly, refusing to break their gaze. Her response, a simple "Ummm," echoed Mahmood's mind, sounding seductive or perhaps he was overthinking.
"Stop it!" he wanted to shout at her, as she casually intertwined their fingers. She needed stop this behavior. He hadn't taught her these things. The only things he had taught her were lessons from the Qur'an, particular parts of Tajweed, and some Hadiths. He had plans to recite more to her after the Maghrib prayer, in her uncle's parlor under his watchful eye. But how could he continue with those lessons if he allowed her to win?
Yet, he is a 22-year-old who is madly in love with her. She had an effect on him in every forbidden way possible. Sometimes, he had to deliberately avoid her for the sake of his peace of mind, constructing a tall and sturdy wall between him and his desires. He had made a resolution to control his unconventional desires until she reached a suitable age for marriage, He wanted her to understand love and its complexities before proceeding.
But now, she was breaking down all the walls he had spent considerable time building, with her unwavering patience. His two-year resolution seemed to be crumbling just within a week.He had really underestimated her.
Instead of telling her to stop, his voice barely managed to mutter a faint "why?"
"Why what?" she responded with an innocent tone.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, desperately trying to evoke his protective brother instincts.
"What am I doing, Hamma?" she replied, feigning ignorance.
"Have you been influenced by bad friends?" he questioned, attempting to bring forth a sense of guidance. His signature big brother vibes. But Maimuna had other plans for her Ustaz Hamma, the one who made her feel less like a woman every time. She wanted to have a story to share with her friends too. She grew tired of listening to their tales of leaving their boyfriends speechless with just a touch. She wanted to prove Yusra wrong, to show that even Hamma Mahmood was not too much for her to handle. She had read books on seduction, browsed the internet just for this. She wants to make him understand that she understands his twisted words and she is ripe enough to hear them Raw. Undiluted. Unrefined.
She wants to hear him say 'I miss you' instead of 'you look bigger than the last time i saw you' or 'wow mims its been long i saw you'. She wants to replace his 'take care of your little self Maimuna' to 'I love you Maimuna'. She wants him to say 'I have been thinking about you' instead of 'you were on my mind little maimoo'
"You are my only friend," she uttered sincerely, removing Mahmood's cap and affectionately running her hands through his hair.
A sensation of unease washed over him. "Anyanka ta tashi..." he thought, his mind raced as he struggled to ground himself.
"I love your hair Hamma. I want to take out my braids later. Will you help me? Like you used to when I was younger. I miss that part of you Fah. I remember how you would buy me tuwon madara just so we could comb my hair peacefully without any shouting," she whispered, her words drawn out slowly. Mahmood couldn't help but conclude that this was not Maimuna's usual voice. She must be possessed.
His sense of self wavered, as he questioned his own sanity. Whatever she was doing to his hair, to him, it felt deeply unsettling. And yet, she continued to hold his hand, running her fingers through his hair.
"Now I can't see your hair, Maimoo. You've grown up now, and it would be haram for me to see your hair," he managed to say, his voice strained. He couldn't help but feel lost.
At that moment, she moved closer to him, her presence almost melding with his. It felt as if she was about to dissolve into him.
"How haram can it be? Umm?" she whispered seductively into his ear, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. Then, she gently placed a kiss on his cheek and left him stunned, unable to move or respond. With her held high, she walked out of the gazebo, deliberately letting down her veil to reveal a glimpse of her beautifully arranged black hair.
She left him breathless.
As she departed, he found himself chanting, "La ilaha illa anta, subhanaka inni kuntu mizzalimin"
Mahmood left the house that day. He had better gone back to face his family problems, because this problem maimuna is trying to create for him is bigger than his grandfathers tantrum.
****
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