Chapter 5

10.9K 416 23

{ A/N Eid Mubarak :) }

2 years ago



"Adeel, dinner's ready!" I hear my older sister-in-law scream from downstairs. The wooden doors were good enough to block out any sound, except for my sister-in-law's rambunctious voice; add screaming to that equation, then you have to make sure you're at least in the different side of the house then her.

My office sat in complete darkness, due to the drawn curtains; the only light source slapping me in the face was coming from my laptop in front of me. Since my concentration broke, I start to notice the stiffness in my back. I stretch my arms over my head, while arching my back. I take notice of the vigorous bulge of my arms. A proud grin stretches onto my face, all the while yawning my ass off.

I get up from my revolving chair and make my way to the door. My thighs feel like a thousand pound brick had just been lifted off of them. Being a young business man is damn hard!

I open the door, not caring when it bangs against the wall hard. At least the peircing sound woke me up a little.

When the endless set of stairs come in my view, I mentally groan. My legs aren't strong enough for that kind of excercise! So, the only possible solution to my problem was for me to ride down the banister.

I smile, remembering the last time I rode on it. I had landed on my 3 year old nephew; since he was taking after my laziness, we both stayed and played on the floor until his parents came home.

A frown takes place on my face once I remember that was only last week.

Shrugging, I take a seat on the banister, situating the right way, and pushed my way down. During the landing, I made sure that my body waist-up was straight, before strecthing my feet out and landing perfectly. Well, almost perfectly; I stumbled a bit, but I managed. I proudly begin to smile when I notice my nephew clapping with a toothy grin on his adorable face.

His unusual grey eyes, sparkled when the sunlight hit his face. I don't know how he inherited those eyes since basically everyone in both of his parents' side of the family all had brown eyes.

Ignoring any topic that required thinking in my brain, I picked my nephew up and headed towards somethings I couldn't take my mind off; food. Especially Eid food, it's a great way to spoil your normal habbit of eating. And, no better way to have a professional chef as a sister-in-law!

My nephew squirms in my left arm, when I tickle him. His giggles echoed off the living room. I continue to blow air-bubbles on his neck, making him laugh harder, all the while, a silly grin gets glued onto my face.

When we neared the kitchen, I heard my sister-in-law giggle, and my brother whisper and chuckle. I take two more steps, arriving at the doorway. Bilal, my nephew, notices me quiet, so he stays put, too. I lean on the doorway; on the different side of Bilal, so he's resting on my jutted hip.

"You know you're beautiful," my brother, Abbas, says quietly to Aneeqa, "even your name means 'beautiful'."

My sister-in-law, Aneeqa, giggles and throws heard head back, a thing she does when she she's giddy. "Yeah, right," she rolls her eyes, "you only married me because it was your dad's descision!"

Abbas scoots closer to Aneeqa, "and who agreed to that descision?" Abbas now stood completely next to his wife, slightly, yet happily smiling at her. Aneeqa chuckles again and shakes her head. She pecks his cheek before nudging Abbas out of the way of the fridge.

At that moment, Bilal decides to sneeze, breaking all of us out of our moments. Aneeqa speedily turns around, and rubs her cheeks, thinking that she could rub off the blush. Both Abbas and I smirk at her knowingly, causing her to glare while she takes a sqealing 3 year old out of my hands.

Aneeqa starts to feed Bilal after he sits in his high-chair. Abbas sits in his usual chair, just watching lovingly at his family.

Instead of eating my food, I sit back in my own chair, just enjoying the view.

Someday, I'm going to be this happy with my own wife and kids.



As soon as the key's in the lock, I hurriedly push my shoulder against the door and shove the main door open, leaving the chilly wind behind me. My home delivers a wonderful aroma of home-made delicious food. I grin and rush upstairs, completely forgetting to greet my parents.

I push the door of my room open, and throw my bag on my bed, while reaching for the night clothes. In the bathroom, I change in to them, washing my hands after, and splashing water on to my face; refreshing me after hours of listening to pointless lectures.

As soon as I'm done, I rush downstairs to the kitchen where I'm sure my mom would be; the kitchen is like her second room, she might as well put a bed in it. Then, all she'd be lacking would be a T.V., and she'd never set foot in her own room again.

Just before I was about to enter the kitchen, I heard yelling. My heart started beating loudly, while I strained my ears to listen to what was happening. But, even if I was deaf, I would've recognized my dad's loud voice.

"He had no right!" I could hear my dad scream at my mom. I diagonally walk backwards, until my back hits the hallway wall. I close my eyes, forcing my angry puffs of breaths at bay. Just as I get ready to push myself off the wall to leave, I hear my mom respond, louder than her normal tone of voice.

"He's your son!"

That was the last straw for my dad; I, then, heard something crash on the floor; it sounded like it was glass. I flinch involuntarily, while trying to keep quiet. I press myself farthur back in the wall; wishing to disappear.

Couldn't they do this on some other day then Eid!?

Today's suppose to be a happy day, but, is it for us? No. Of course not. My dad always somehow manages to find a way to yell at me or my mom. He's shunned my brother a long time ago, and they're probably arguing about him right now, but, now it's only me or my mom he can take his anger out on. I shake my head in disgust, a stray tear slipping on the smooth surface of my cheek in betrayal. I wish I could hate him; it'd be so much easier, but, he's still my father after all. He's still the same person who's raised me, and made me who I am.

But, I know for a fact that my mom doesn't deserve this shit. I guess that's what happens when you agree to an arrange marriage; you ruin your life.

It'll be hell before I agree to one.



Love, or Arrange Marriage?Read this story for FREE!