love shades ( Major editing)

why me?

I put my favorite song on my Beats, and it was too loud. Huh, who cares? It's a day off for me. So I'm cleaning my room, and the music makes it easier. I was swaying my hips and doing all these weird moves. This is the real Anan. I pulled all my books and placed them on my bookshelf. My room is quite spacious now that Yara is no longer here. I own it all. I glanced at my phone. Hmm, it's strange; usually, someone messages me when I'm busy, but when I have no work, there isn't a fly to bug me.

After finishing my work, I took a seat on my windowsill, looking at my neighborhood. There are a few trees surrounding the area, but all I see are blocks of houses and a few cars. As I gaze at my surroundings, I remember what Omar told me the other day. He was acting strangely. I mean, during the school event, he seemed to be talking about me, but could it have been about another best friend of his? Why did he ask me to pay for his car when it was barely damaged? He was behaving as if we were enemies. I don't know what's getting into him.

He used to be the one who never liked to see me cry. He always cared about me no matter what. Just then, something popped into my mind. I can check my bank account. Hmm, Omar, here I come. I quickly ran to the washroom, took care of my business, changed into long loose pants and a white top, and matched a gray hijab with my gray sneakers. I'm not a fashionista, so this will do. I grabbed my wallet and my phone and stepped out. Oh geez, I forgot my keys. I grabbed them from the key holder and hurriedly made my way to my car, my "baby." I turned on the radio, listening to my favorite songs. Today, I'm feeling daring!

I turned on my GPS and found my location. Technology makes it so easy. I never thought this building was this big. Like every other company, there's a nice-looking girl at the reception. I prayed she wouldn't be like the ones everyone talks about, but I'm not judging her by her looks.

"Hey, how can I help you?" she beamed, but it's not the typical receptionist attitude I expected.

I returned the smile but didn't know what to say. "Umm, miss, can I meet... umm..." I paused, realizing I don't know what I'm about to say. It's absurd.

I turned around, leaving her perplexed. "Anan, just ask her where Omar is," I muttered to myself. Oops, he's not just Omar; he's the famous Omar Amir. I grasped my hijab nervously as I spotted him walking into the building. He didn't pay attention to me or anyone, walking casually with his hands in his pockets. Instead of waiting, I decided to approach him.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, curiosity overcoming my shyness. I reached into my bag, pulled out an envelope, and extended it to him. He looked at it with a puzzled expression.

"That's for the damage. You can fix your car with this," I told him, trying to sound calm and assertive. However, he seemed indifferent and suddenly grabbed my hand, placing the envelope back into my palm. Then, he glanced at his wrist.

"You don't want this?" I asked, flabbergasted. I came all this way to give him the money, but he's rejecting it.

"No," he replied coldly.

"But you wanted it. I had to come all this way to give this to you," I said, half-yelling. I can't believe his behavior; it's infuriating.

"Well, I don't want it. I have enough of those," he declared, then stepped into his car. I'm shocked by his response. What's wrong with him? Urgh! That day, he desperately needed money for his minimally damaged car. Now he's acting as if it doesn't matter. I turned on my heels and headed back to the bus stop.

My mind raced with frustration as I thought about Omar. He was the one who, in the past, couldn't stand seeing me cry. He always cared about me, no matter what. So, why is he acting this way now?

As I sat at the bus stop, the street was eerily empty and dark. I'm uncomfortable with silence and darkness, fearing something sinister might happen. I remembered all the horror movies I've watched, imagining myself as the helpless girl in a dangerous situation. My heart raced, and I couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. Suddenly, I saw a car flash by and heard someone scream my name. Unfortunately, it was too late, and I felt myself losing consciousness in someone's arms.

When I woke, I was on a bed, and panic surged as I realized what had just happened. I started to scream, but someone hugged me.

"Shhh... everything is okay, Anan. It's me," Yara hugged me tight, and for a brief moment, I was scared, thinking I might have been captured by a psycho. Yara pushed my locks of hair behind my ear and planted a kiss on my forehead.

"Yara, where am I?" I looked around, only to realize I was in her home. I wondered if my mum knew about this. I quickly jumped to my feet.

"Don't panic, Anan. Please don't start with your..." She couldn't finish her sentence as my phone rang, showing my mum's name. I looked at Yara with wide eyes, and she gave me a reassuring smile, encouraging me to answer it.

"Hello... Salam."
"Umm, no."
"Yuh... uh... sleepover... um, yuh."
"Ok... Allah hafiz."

I glanced at Yara once I ended the call and then sat beside her on the bed.

"Yara, yesterday, I... I was..." I hesitated, unable to find the right words. How could I explain to her that Abdul's boss is Omar? My family is strict, and I couldn't mention a male friend, only girls. I chose Omar as my best friend because he was better than my girlfriends. We rarely sneaked out or hung around physically, but thanks to technology, we stayed in touch. Yara knew about him and my other friends, but my parents had no idea about this.

Yara remained silent, waiting for me to share more.

"Yara," I began, and I held her hand.
"Hmmm," she raised an eyebrow, grinning.

"Remember Abdul's boss..."
She nodded, and I scratched my head. She seemed cool and composed, as if she knew what I was about to say.

"It's Omar... it's him... I couldn't recognize him with all the changes in him." Yara's hand shot to her mouth, not in shock but to stifle her giggles. She burst into laughter.

"No, stop it, Yara... he's not the same... I really can't believe him. Remember I got into a car crash... it was his car. It was barely damaged, but he was practically threatening me to pay him. Can you believe it?" I threw my hands up, feeling the frustration build up inside me. Yara stared at me for a good two minutes before bursting into another fit of laughter. She found it amusing.

"It's not funny, Yara," I scolded.

"Okay, okay, baby sis. And then what happened that you ended up in his arms?" She asked, smirking. My face flushed as I covered my mouth.

"What... what did you say? I was in his arms?" My eyes widened as I realized what had happened. Yara held her hand up.

"Can you stop with your shocked act? Tell me what happened next."

"Actually, I wanted to give him what he wanted... but he just said he didn't want it... and some freak tried to drug me..." I told her, and she gave me an amused look.

"So, Omar rescued you and brought you here. In his arms. He was so nice to do so. He told Abdul everything that happened, except for the money part, and he even got a doctor to check on you." Yara's words made my heart flutter slightly. Does he still care for me?

"Oh, and Abdul was so surprised at how worried Omar was for you. He even asked me if Omar knows you because it wasn't typical of his boss. Not that he'd ignore something like that for another girl in your place... but I think he sensed something about Omar." Yara's words left me perplexed. I knew Omar cared for me, but I couldn't quite grasp what Yara was trying to convey. I spent the day with Yara and left her home after lunch.

Mum bombarded me with numerous questions, as usual, expressing her concern. Thanks to Yara, who settled everything for me. Upon opening my room, I shut the door behind me and flopped down onto my bed, deep in thought. What's up with him? Why is he acting so strangely?

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Please note : This story is purely based on my imagination and some of the content might be misleading but do read it as just a story and not real.
I don't want you thinking or get offended by any of the content. Thank you.

Published in 2018
Edited in 2023

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