Forbidden | Haram

ier than I'd ever felt it. I hadn't realized how much I'd come to rely on their presence-on the comfort of Kashifa's family bustling around, the familiar s

one. The warmth of his touch had become an anchor, something I'd grown so used to that now, without it, I felt unsteady, restless. I could almost feel his hand

ments alone, my longing sharpened, became something undeniable. It was more than just his touch that I missed; it was him-his calm presence, his quiet laughter, the w

o examine too closely. It was strange, this feeling stirring inside me for Kashifa, like a quiet pulse I

r my breath, almost laughing at

d settled into me, filling gaps I didn't know were there. Yet the truth lingered, a stubborn whisper at the back of my mind. Kashifa was Musl

ound myself sitting here, my heart already reaching out in ways

the doorway, framed by the soft morning light, his presence filling the space with a quiet strength. His hair was still damp, neatly combed back, and glistening slightly, giving him a fre

seemed so put together, his calm expression softened by that familiar glint in his eyes-the one that always seemed reserved just

e, one corner lifting in a way that made my heart skip. He said it lightly, as if it were only a pas

nding in the doorway behind him, giving me a cheerful wave before ushering Kashifa along. I waved back, trying to keep my smile steady, even as I felt Kashifa's ha

e steadiness he brought with him every time he walked into a room. His parting smile, the soft, teasing words he'd left me with, all

ort he brought, the ease of our friendship. But deep down, I knew it was something else e

I started to realize, maybe for the first time, just how deeply I was beginning to care for hi

en I spoke, his gaze attentive and unwavering, as if every word I said mattered. And he shared parts of himself, too, letting me in on his thoughts, his worries, and his quiet laugh

a... he made me feel like I mattered. With him, I didn't have to pretend or perform; I could simply be. He provided the quiet underst

ly different worlds. He was Muslim, raised with traditions and values that were so different from my own. His life was tied to his family, his faith, and the n

ers, who treated me like one of their own. How would they look at me if they knew what I

ould be not just unacceptable-it would be forbidden. It would be a betrayal of everything they believed in, everything they had taught him to honor. An

But as quickly as the thought came, I pushed it away. I couldn't bear the idea of losing him, of losing the warmth and connectio

se feelings to myself, to hold on to them quietly, no matter how much they ached. Kashifa might nev

n was unyielding, its heavy, burning rays filling every room. This was only my third day here, and already I'd fallen into a routine of changing clothes twice a day, the damp cloth clingi

just the sun, just the overwhelming heat that was making me feel this way, but I knew there was something else I was trying to shake off. Kashifa's smile, the quiet strength in his gaze, the way his hand

told myself, feeling the droplets trickling down, cool and grounding. If I let myself fall for him, if I clung to this feeling, it could ruin everything.

let him go, even if it felt impossible in moments like this. It was safer to keep these feelings at bay, to let them was

oulder, his face close to mine. His eyes glinted with a familiar mischief, an energy that was both

s so close, his expression open and unguarded, his face lit with that easy, handsome smile that had a way of catching me off gu

es. "Later, we'll go out with my friends," he said, his voice filled with excitement. "They

than just the invitation; it was the way he was sharing it, the enthusiasm in his voice, like he genuinely wanted me there beside him. Mo

hidden. Because as natural as it felt, there was still a part of me that knew this wasn't something I could let go unchecked. Still, for now, I allowed myself