Harry's P.O.V
My eyes shot open and I quickly sat up on my bed. I was panting heavily, and I was drenched in sweat. When I tried to remove the hair that clung to my forehead, I noticed my hands were shaking badly as that sadness and fear I felt at the end of the dream still remained, making my heart pound in my chest.
I got out of bed and tried to drink water to wet my parched throat in the kitchen. My hands were shaking so badly that I couldn't even hold the glass properly. The dream felt so real that I had a sudden need to confirm whether it was a dream or not. So without another thought, I quickly dressed myself before collecting my keys and heading out.
I rang the doorbell to Tahira's house repeatedly and my hands were still shaking. My breath came out ragged while I impatiently paced the porch of her house.
"Marcel? What are you doing here?" Her voice reached my ears. I turned around quickly to find her standing there, safe and very much alive.
As soon as I saw her I felt the sense of relief spread through me. "Oh, thank God! You're alive!" I said and suddenly, for the first time in two years, I cried.
Without thinking about it twice, I pulled her into a tight hug and rested my head against her shoulder. She struggled for a bit but when she felt her wet shoulder she realised I was actually crying. "Marcel? What's wrong? Are you okay?" I shook my head in honesty. She awkwardly stood still in my arms, letting me cry on her shoulder for some reason.
"Tahira? Whose at- what is going on here!?" I heard Omar shout. I quickly released Tahira from the hug.
She took a step back while I wiped my tears before Omar could see but I was a little late for that "I-I'm s-sorry. I don't know what came over me." I said as Omar pulled Tahira behind him and noticed my red, tear-stained face.
I saw his face soften a bit and the anger disappear from his eyes. "Is everything okay, Marcel?" I quickly nodded. "Yes. I just had a terrifying nightmare is all."
I looked down and felt Omar pat my shoulder. "Come on in." I knew he wanted to know what was the nightmare about and why had I come to Tahira out of everyone in the town.
"I hope I didn't wake you up." I said and Omar smiled. "You didn't. We were just having our sehri.*" I nodded. When I followed them into the kitchen, I saw Sara sitting there with a concerned look on her a face when she saw mine.
"She died." Was the first thing I said after Omar had taken me into his study an hour later. Omar had said his Fajr* prayer before taking me there (Sara told me about it before going to her room).
He froze for a second before sitting in front of me. "How?" He asked and I suddenly felt a bit shy to answering that but I cleared my throat.
"She lost too much blood." I said and I guess Omar understood as to how when his eyes widened but thankfully didn't comment on it.
"Do you like my daughter, Marcel?" He asked. I felt my eyes widen and I quickly shook my head.
"No! She's just a friend to me, Omar. I promise." I said and saw him relax a bit. "Marcel, I want you to tell me exactly what happened in your dream. Even if it makes us both feel uncomfortable." I gulped a bit before nodding.
So I told him everything. When I came to the end, I saw him pale a bit. And when I mentioned 'Ameera', he raised his eyebrows in what seemed to me like shock. I finally finished telling him about everything and he stroked his beard.
"Has she ever talked about kids with you?" I felt confused.
"Never." I felt my confusion rise when he paled even more.
"Don't lie to me, Marcel. Please."
"I'm not, Omar. Why would I lie about this?" I asked and he looked out the window.
"Tahira has always wanted to name her daughter Ameera, Marcel."
I felt the blood drain from my face and I understood why he went so pale.
There was an awkward silence between the two of us while we processed everything in our minds.
"Marcel, I don't want to sound rude but I would like that from now on you stay away from my daughter." Omar said and I blinked at him in surprise.
"Sorry?" Omar sighed before sitting in front of me.
"Marcel, you're a good guy. There's no doubt about it but if you keep on spending time with my daughter and vice versa I am afraid that you might... fall for each other. And I would not like it if I have to see my daughters heart break." I slowly nodded.
"Omar, I get where you're coming from but-"
"No." He said firmly as he ran his hand through his hair and exhaled loudly before looking at me straight in the eye.
"Marcel, I have to make you understand this very carefully and for that you have to promise me that whatever I say after this you will not tell anyone."
I nodded "I promise." He took a deep breath before continuing.
"Marcel, since she was four, Tahira has been promised to someone." I felt like someone threw an ice bucket at me. Tahira was promised to someone?
"She doesn't know about it. And neither does Sara. The father of the boy and I were best friends in college and due to some... circumstances that occurred we decided to get them married in the future."
"But I thought that women have a say in their marriage." I asked and he nodded.
"You thought right. But a year ago he started to become the 'bad boy'. That's why I had asked Tahira to marry Zubair. My friend knew this and didn't disagree on my decision."
"When will Tahira get to know about this?" I asked and he looked down. "On her eighteenth birthday. That's next year."
Oh. I guess I should listen to him then... Saves me from a lot of trouble but Tahira?
"Omar, what is your friends name?" I asked and he narrowed his eyes at me playfully.
"You want to break this one off too?" I let out a chuckle and shook my head.
"I'm just curious."
"His name is Desmond, but we call him Des." I felt my breath hitch in my throat.
"Desmond... Styles?" I asked carefully and he nodded.
"Tahira is promised to Harry Styles, Marcel. Your best friend."
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*Sehri - or Suhur is the meal consumed by Muslims before they fast.
*Fajr - the first prayer out of the five obligatory prayers of the day. It is done before sunrise.
AN: I've been thinking of doing a bonus chapter which will be based on Tahira's P.O.V. If you want me to do it then comment 'Yes' and vote on this chapter. Comment, Vote and Follow :)
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No Choice || H.S.
FanfictionHarry Styles didn't have a choice. Not when it came to his lifestyle. Not when it came to how he dressed. Not when it came to how he lived. Not when it came to how he looked. But they say unexpected things are the best for Bad Boys, aren't they? *NO...
