“Oh, God.” As always, he pulled me into his arms for a tight, comforting hug. Rolereversal. “Don’t cry for me.”
“Then don’t stay upset like this. You’re the reason I always cry,” I complained, making him feel guilty, as usual.
He should better get used to it.
“I’ll try not to make you cry again.” A false promise. He always says the same thing.
“Stop giving fake promises, Siddique.” Using his full name signaled that I was hurt.
“What can I do to make you happy then?” he whispered in my ear, desperate.
“Just—”
“Cute couple,” The Uber driver said, earning a death glare from Siddique. “Sorry, sir.”
“Mind your business, idiot,” Siddique muttered under his breath, making me smile.
He never cursed, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. And I got the perfect chance to tease him.
I broke the hug, smiling. “You cursed.”
“No, I didn’t.” Liar. He rolled his eyes and moved to his corner. “Are you sure you want to come?” He smartly changed the topic.
He wanted to go, and I can't deny him knowing he needed me there. “Yes, I can’t leave you alone.” I assured, squeezing his hand.
“Thank you, Naaz. You’re a great friend.” He said, then teased, “Hope you know how to perform wudu. Or I can teach you.”
‘Don’t mock me.” I’m not that religious person like him, but I know the basics. “I know how to do it.” I shot him a glare, pointing my finger at him.
To my surprise, he grabbed my hand, put my finger in his mouth, and sucked it.
What the fuck?
“You’re so gross.” I pulled my hand back and wiped his saliva on his dress shirt sleeve.
He laughed like an idiot.
Okay, idiot was not a curse.
“You’re so mean and evil,” I chided, but deep down, I was happy to see him laughing. I know he did it intentionally just to make me believe he was okay now.
Typical Siddique Khan.
Don’t cry again. I remind myself quickly.
“I love teasing you, you idiot,” He laughed more.
“Stop laughing, or else I’ll push you out of this car,” I warned him. “I’m serious.”
I wasn’t.
He was bigger and stronger than me.
“I’m not your student who’ll get scared. Do whatever you please.” he smirked.
I am gonna slap that smirk out of him.
Evil bastard. Wait.
“Please stop the car. I need to throw this man out. He’s harassing me,” I told the driver.
The driver literally stopped and glared at Siddique.
I smiled.
“Seriously?” Siddique looked pissed.
“Tsk, tsk. Have some shame, brother. Your girlfriend is so nice and beautiful, yet you are doing this.”
Okay, that was over the line. He had no right to pass such a comment on Siddique.
“Mind your tongue, Mister. You have no right to talk bad about him. Now drive quietly, or I’ll complain about you to the police and give you a low rating for invading our privacy.” I said, glaring at him.
The man looked at me in shock and muttered something under his breath making faces.
“Did you say something?” Siddique asked, harshly.
“No,” He looked away, mumbling something and started driving, not before giving us a weird look.
I am sure he called me a crazy person. As if I cared.
From the corner of my eye, I could see a victory smile tug on Siddique’s lips as if he had won an Oscar or something precious.
My support.
“Shut up!” I snapped.
“But I haven’t said a word.” he smiled innocently.
“Fuck off.”
“Don’t curse.” He warned. “I don’t want to be alone in heaven.” It was a wish.
“Who told you, you are going to heaven?” I mocked.
“My heart,”
“Your heart lies.”
“Never,” he said confidently. And, I wish he was wrong.
“I’ll be happier in hell,” I lied.
Who loves to be in hell? No one. It’s a horrible place to live. Forever.
“Another sin. I’m wondering what will happen to your husband. He’ll be alone in heaven enjoying the company of beautiful angels, while you’ll be in hell, burning in fire. Just imagine, Naaz. You, hot fire, black smoke—”
I cut him off, “Okay! Enough. I won’t lie or curse. I mean, I’ll try to avoid them.” I quickly corrected myself, seeing his glare.
“Good girl.”
I shouldn’t have blushed. Or smiled. Then I looked away. But I did all three of them. And I definitely shouldn’t have felt butterflies in my stomach. But I felt.
What the fuck!
Half an hour later, we were outside the graveyard gate.
I stood there frozen for a moment, looking at the dark green metal gate. I still remember, I was ten the last time I came here. After that, I never returned. Back then, I had cried a lot–terrified by all the graves. I’d heard some ghost stories and tales of jinn right before the visit. So, no one forced me to come here. And now, after all these years, he’ll be the first to bring me back here.
“Are you okay?” He asked, getting concerned.
“I’m okay. I’m not a child anymore.”
“Let’s go in then,” He said, grabbing my hand.
We walked inside, side by side, hand in hand, as he guided me to the place where we would do wudu.
I appreciated the place. There was a line of water taps with concrete seats. Beautiful red rose trees lined up along the wall. It was a serene place.
We quickly finished our wudu. Then, I handed him some tissue paper to dry himself off. He laughed but took it anyway. I did the same and covered my head with my dress veil; and he used his handkerchief, having not brought his white cotton cap.
Coming here wasn’t in his plan then.
“Where is he?” I asked, already emotional.
“Come with me.” He grabbed my hand and led me across a few muddy paths and many unknown graves.
While following him, I was busy observing the place. There were tall coconut and date trees, beautiful flowers, and fruit trees. I read some nameplates. The ages of the deceased made me realize that death can come at any age.
A woman died at 86, a little girl at 5, a young boy at 16, a man at 30, a woman at 40, a baby at 6 months, and a man at 57. One grave upset me a lot: a whole family, possibly from an accident. The man was 35, his wife 32, and their baby boy was just 4.
How cruel!
Siddique noticed my sad face and asked. “Naaz, are you okay?”
“Hmm.” I lied, and he knows.
“It’s life Naaz.” That’s all he could say, as we reached his father’s grave. It was well-maintained by him. A rose tree over the grave was covered with big red roses. Fresh petals lay over the grave, making it look beautiful.
“It’s beautiful, clean, and peaceful,” I said.
“I know. I feel close to him when I come here,” he whispered. I smiled sadly, but his next words angered me. “When I come here someday, I hope I can hug him and complain about leaving us alone. Especially me. I miss him a lot.”
How can he just say that?
“You’re not going anywhere, Siddique.” I held his arm tight. “I won’t let you come here soon. I’m gonna fight with Allah SWT.”
He smiled at my reaction. “Everyone will die one day, Naaz. Me, you, our parents. Everyone. No one can escape death.” His words made me angrier, so I held his arm tighter.
“I don’t care. You’re my only friend, Siddique. I don’t want to lose you.” I choked on my words and started crying again.
For the second time in the last hour, he made me cry.
Fake promises.
He pulled me in a hug to comfort me. “I never knew you love me so much.”
“I don't love you,” I argued, crying.
It was a lie. I do love him. He’s my best friend.
“Yeah, right,” he knew I was lying. “Enough now already.”
“You make me cry.” I accused him.
He broke the hug and wiped my tears. ‘Let’s do what we came here for,” he said, kissing my forehead.
These are the reasons people assume we’re a couple.
“Yeah!” I nodded, smiling slightly.
“Your nose is red.” He pulled my nose lightly, making me smile genuinely.
We silently prayed for Razzaq uncle, then we left, still holding hands.
I really should let go of his hand.
I was about to, but he held my hand tighter and pulled me closer to him, crashing me into his chest. I stood still, moving away a little but not daring to pull my hand away.
“Don’t you dare leave my hand, Naaz.” It was a warning.
“But—”
“Ever.” It was an order.
Do I have a choice? No. “Okay.”
“Good girl.” This made me blush again, but I hid it by looking away. “You okay?”
No. I am not fine. Your good girl is making me feel funny. So stop it. “Yes.”
“Okay,” He didn’t look convinced though. “I’ll look for a ride.” He pulled out his phone and got busy.
Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind. What will happen when he gets married? Will his wife like it? Me? Us? Would I like it if I were his wife?
Never, my heart replied.
“Siddique?”
He hummed in response, still busy booking a car on Uber. It’s hard to get one sometimes.
“What will happen in the future?”
“What do you mean?” He didn’t bother to look at me. And it was pissing me off, somewhere.
“Your wife.” This time he looked at me. “Will she like it?” I eyed our interlocked hands.
He laughed, “Definitely.”
He has gone mad. Which wife would like this kind of behavior from her husband, who is so close to his female friend? No one. At least, no sane woman.
“Don’t overthink. Your small mind might burst,” he mocked, changing my mood and the topic.
“Ha-ha-ha. Very funny.” I mock-laughed.
“Cute,” he pulled my nose.
“Don’t,” I pushed his hand away, irritated. “Anyway, are you feeling better?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Naaz, you want to eat something?” he added, still looking at his phone.
“How long?”
“Three minutes.”
I nod. “I want butter naan with spicy grilled chicken, salad, chilled lemonade, cold water, and something sweet. Maybe an ice cream.”
He looked at me in shock. “Very selective food choices. But I wonder how this much food will fit into your small tummy.” he mocked my weight.
I’m just 50 kg, almost half of him.
“Body shamer.”
“Truth is bitter.” he smirked.
Asshole.
“Fifty is perfect. Zero figure.” I said proudly.
“Whatever!”
Our car arrived, and that asshole literally pushed me inside, making me fall on my knees. I lost my temper. “Did you just push me?”
“Did I?” He acted innocent.
Asshole.
“You’re so fu- annoying,” I said, controlling myself from cursing him as I sat comfortably on the seat.
He got in the car, sat beside me, and closed the door. “Good that you’re trying.”
Only if he knew.
“Huh!” He didn’t say anything but gave me a “don’t show attitude, or else it won’t go well for you.” So I became quiet. I don't know why I was always so submissive to him?
Our car stopped outside a kebab restaurant named Rafiq Hotel & Restaurant. He paid the fare, got out, and came around to open my door. I grabbed his hand and got out of the car.
It’s a tradition, started by my father, which he now follows.
My father loves him a lot. So does my mother. They treat him like their own son. Does that make him my brother?
“Ew! Gross.”
“What…” he couldn’t finish, as a butler dressed in a typical black and white waiter uniform welcomed us in. The man guided us to a corner table.
The butler left us alone.
Siddique pulled out a chair for me, and I quickly took my seat while he sat across from me. “What were you saying?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on.”
I couldn’t hold back anymore. “I was thinking, my parents love you like their own child, right?”
“Yes.” He nodded, smiling and signaling to a waiter to come and take our order. “So?’
“Doesn’t that make you my brother?” I almost laughed at my silly thoughts. It was funny. A joke. But he didn’t seem okay with it.
His smile faded, and a frown crossed his face. His hazel eyes darkened with anger.
“Don’t talk nonsense, Naaz. Just because they love me doesn’t make you my sister. They’re not my biological parents.” He was disgusted. “You’re so gross.”
Honestly, the thought of him being my brother was disturbing and disgusting. I myself felt like throwing up. “Sorry.”
“You better be.”
Soon a butler came to our table with menu cards. He got busy placing our order, and I got busy using my phone. I hardly get time for it. The butler left taking our orders.
Suddenly, he snatched my phone. He hates it when I use it in front of him. According to him, I should focus on him and talk instead of scrolling through social media. But I still do it just to irritate him. I love to irritate him as much as he loves irritating me.
Friendship goals.
“Siddique,” I fake-whined.
“How many times do I have to tell you, keep that devil away when I’m with you?” He was, as always, pissed.
“Argh! You’re so irritating. And demanding.” I groaned and quickly put my phone back in my handbag. “Happy now?” I faked a smile.
“Don’t fake it.” He smirked.
I fu- hate him.
I can’t believe I’m controlling myself even in my head.
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