15 ??Welcoming party?? (2/2)

I still had half the money Ammar had sent in my account. But I knew we'd run out of it soon.

I trusted in God, though. When He had given me provision from places I couldn't imagine, I was sure He'd find something else from me after my divorce as well.

Once again, my stress was eased.

. . .

As promised, I took out the worst dress from my closet. Inspecting the black robe, I clicked my tongue. It wasn't plain, it had a trail of sequins down one arm and the entire length of the left side. It was Ammar's choice and simply horrible.

I hung it back inside and moved onto the next option: a black and beige silken robe with cute little flowers protruding from the waist up. It was cute and always suited me.

And I thought, what the hell. Why should I look bad when everyone would most definitely be looking pretty. I liked dressing up and wearing nice clothes and our religion didn't completely disregard that. Women liked to look pretty and as long as we knew our limits, we could work things out.

There was no doubt about the fact that I felt the most covered and comfortable in black. But since I went to a school with people like that, I knew wearing different colours was a better option. What if someone was struggling to wear what I wore and seeing me helped them out. What if I was the reason someone got influenced?

I stared at the robe for a minute straight.

”Well, then,” I spoke to myself. ”I choose you, oh beautiful dress.”

”I can't believe you're talking to yourself.”

I was surprised at the sound of Ammar's voice, forgetting momentarily that he was on call. He was in his office, lounging back in his chair and silently staring at me.

”Shouldn't you be working?” I queried.

”What can I say? You're distracting.”

An involuntary emotion tugged at my heart. No matter what, compliments were always flattering.

I grinned. ”Thanks,”

”Go get ready, now. Show the world how strong you are. Show them your defiance.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. ”I don't wear a niqab because of defiance—it's for obedience to Allah.”

”You know what I meant.” He said.

I nodded. ”Should I end the call? I have to get ready.”

”No. Get changed and show me how you look.”

I bit my lip. Wasn't it wrong knowing we'd get divorced next week and still letting him see me without coverage? It felt wrong.

”Okay,” I agreed with him. Just a week more.

. . .

I arrived at Leroy High with my head held high and well . . . with my eyes trying not to bug out of their sockets.

With scantily dressed girls and guys having trouble keeping their hands to themselves, I was pretty sure I had stepped into an alternate universe. I considered turning on my heels—well, in this case, my Nikes—and leaving. I'd deal with Zayn, give him puppy eyes and tell him I wasn't going to pay fine. Because this excuse for an event wasn't worth three freaking thousand.

As if he'd care.

”You're here.”

I whirled around to the sound of the voice and my breath caught in my lungs.

Zayn looked beautiful in a dark, sinister sort of way. His hair was gelled towards one side and his stubble looked darker than usual. Perhaps it was due to his three-piece grey suit. I had to literally force and beg my eyes to look away. Crap, I was crossing my bounds.

”Take a picture; it'll last longer.”

I cleared my throat, glad he couldn't see the flood of colour that I was certain was on my face. ”I . . . didn't pay yet,” Great. Just change the subject, why don't you? ”Who's collecting the money?”

He took a few steps towards me and to my utter surprise, he kept a proper distance. I couldn't have been more relieved. I was sure it was my way of dressing that didn't allow him to get too close.

”Whoever it is, you don't have to pay.”

I was beyond confused. ”What?”

He sighed. ”Nothing. You just . . .” He pointed to the money I was clutching in a fist. ”Put that away.”

Just as I opened my mouth, music burst from the loudspeakers. Ouch. My ears.

”You've got to be kidding me,” I muttered, not at all liking the sound of the constant thud thud thud. It had been a long time since I'd listened to any form of music. Ammar liked to put it in his car but when I changed, he respected my choices and didn't play it in front of me. It was weird how people thought you couldn't live without music and now I felt like I would pass out just listening to it for two seconds. Kill me already. While the Qur'an calmed me, music simply stressed me out.

”I'm leaving,” I announced.

”What?” Zayn shouted. ”I can't hear you!”

”I AM LEAVING!”

I spun around and hunted for the doors I came in from. They were closed and two boys stood on guard. By the looks of it, they were students. They were there when I had entered, then why hadn't they taken money from me? They were clearly taking it from others.

I looked at Zayn, biting my lip in contemplation. Did he pay for me?

I really didn't want to think this way but damn, that was sweet. My insides melted to goo and I was sure my eyes were two big red hearts.

Time to leave.

I pushed my way through the crowd, not at all bothered by the fact that people were staring at me. I didn't know who looked and who didn't. I had the ability to blur out people and do what I was doing. It made life easier and you didn't have to constantly worry about what people would be thinking about you.

”Leia!”

I think I heard Zayn but I wasn't going to stop until I was in my car and away from this disgustingness. The longer I was in here, the more I felt myself withering away. I simply couldn't bear the music, the people, the air itself.

When I reached the gates, I signaled for the guys to open the door. When they didn't budge, I placed my hand over the handle and—

”Where are you going?”

Without turning back, I said, ”Home. I came here and you paid. I guess that means everything's good. See you later.” Or never.

Whether Zayn was surprised by the fact that I knew he paid for me or not, he didn't show. There was complete silence.

Ugh, why wasn't this door opening?

”Hassan,” Zayn's voice was pure authority and it sent a shiver down my spine. ”Unlock the door.”

With a quick nod, Hassan did so and the humid yet clean air helped me breathe again. I strode toward the parking lot, feeling a little freaked out all of a sudden. It was dark and there was nobody I knew here. I quickly averted my eyes when I saw a couple making out. Suddenly furious, I felt like smashing one of the pretty cars to pieces. To think that these people were the future of this so-called Islamic country made me feel drained. I unlocked my car and sat inside, shutting the door. I think I actually breathed then, after what felt like years.

I inserted the keys into the side of the steering wheel and turned it on. The car buzzed to life but then it . . . unflared. It wasn't working. My car wasn't freaking working.

I stared at it in disbelief and then prayed for help.

A knock sounded on my door and I jumped out of my skin, screaming. It seemed my prayers were answered. I just wished it was someone other than Zayn.