Meet Taliha, a renowned introverted bookworm with a haunting past and a secret alter ego as an up-and-coming Islamic writer. Her peculiar and unconventional reactions to life's twists and turns have left her questioning her very existence, as the wo...
In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious and Most Merciful, the Seventy-Three chapter of the story begins, please do enjoy it. Good luck!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Taliha's POV: As Tiffany and I entered the kitchen for lunch, we were met with a scene of chaos. Flour was scattered everywhere, and our mothers were covered head to toe in the white powder. Eggs were strewn across the floor, and a carton of milk had spilled on the counter.
It was a mess!
Our mothers turned to us, their faces covered in flour.
"We're okay," one of them said, her voice muffled by the powder. "It was just an accident."
I was quite overwhelmed by the noise and chaos of the kitchen, and the flour and mess were distressing. Eventually, Tiffany and I were eating lunch in the dining room while our mothers were still busy in the kitchen.
As I carried my fork to my mouth, ready to devour my meal, I felt Tiffany's eyes burning into me. My appetite, however, remained unchanged-an appetite that, quite frankly, could only be shifted by the promise of a Big Bang Theory marathon.
"Taliha..." Tiffany whispered, her voice barely audible above the clattering of cutlery.
Ignoring her, I dove into my meal, my attention solely focused on the delicious flavors dancing on my tongue. It wasn't until my knife and fork clattered against my plate that I feigned ignorance.
"Did you say something, Tiffany?" I asked innocently, my gaze fixed on the food still on my plate.
"Yes, Taliha, I did. And if you could spare me a moment of your attention, I would greatly appreciate it," Tiffany replied, her patience wearing thin.
I turned my head slightly, my eyes darting around the room as I struggled to process her words. "Tiffany, there's something I haven't told you," I blurted out, my heart pounding like a drum.
"So it's true," Tiffany gasped, her eyebrows shooting towards the ceiling. Her gaze pierced into me, demanding an explanation.
I shifted in my seat, the weight of my unspoken words hanging over me. "I don't know how to tell you this," I stammered, my mind racing to find the right words. "Arif's wink... it didn't mean anything. It's just that... I've never been good at expressing my emotions, Tiffany."
"Arif told me he liked me yesterday at sch-" I managed to blurt out before Tiffany's reaction sent a sonic boom through the room.
"Bloody... whaaaat? No! Are you serious?!" she squealed, her voice a mixture of confusion and delight.
I nodded slowly, my face a mask of anxiety. "Too bad he didn't have eyes for me," she sighed wistfully, "but hey, I'm ready to be his sister-in-law."
"That's not the point," I interjected, my insides doing gymnastics as I struggled to explain myself. "I don't know what he wants from me. I'm not equipped to handle his feelings-or even my own," I confessed, my voice quavering.
