Clueless Love

I can't believe how much my life has changed in three months. It still feels like it was last week I graduated from University. I have been living with my sister and her family for the past three months. I am 21 years old, and I work at an IT company, where I was lucky enough to get a contract and my own office. I have been working there for the past two months. I have a substantial allowance but have always been taught to work for the things I value in life. My life is pretty simple, but I can feel something new is going to happen soon. I don’t know if I like the feeling or not but let’s see what life holds in store for me. I am brought back from my musings when I feel someone pull on my trousers. "Aunt, Aunt," my cute niece calls, pulling on my trousers to get my attention. Eman is the female version of her father, except for her skin tone. She has curly black hair, large grey eyes, a heart-shaped face, and beautiful light skin. She is six years old. She is

The next morning, I wake up at 4:38 a.m. I pray Fajr, go back to sleep and wake up a little later to do a few workouts and take a shower. I walk downstairs to make breakfast, but today there is a significant addition. I have to cook for that man, Ismail. I can’t still believe he is living with us. Today I am making pancakes for the kids while I prepare coffee, eggs, and French toast for Waheeda, Aazim, and Ismail. Everyone comes down after getting ready. “Good morning, aunt,” Aayan and Eman say, coming down the stairs looking cute in their school uniform. My sister has her kids in a private school, so they wear a uniform. Aayan is four years old, has Afro black hair, a light skin tone, hazel brown eyes, and a round face. “Good morning,” Waheeda and Aazim say while coming down the stairs. “How was your night?” I say placing their breakfast in front of them. “It was fine. Won’t you get ready for work?” Waheeda says. “I wi

The next morning I wake up and I do my morning routine of prayers and exercise. I am wearing a white crop sweater, grey and white plaid pants, white converse sneakers, a black hajib, and carry a black satchel bag. I am eating cinnamon French toast sticks with coffee for breakfast in the kitchen when Ismail walks in, looking handsome and as arrogant as ever. ‘I wonder what he is doing here?’ “Umit, here is the contract. I just need you to sign it and then we are fine,” Ismail places a piece of paper in front of me. “Why did you not give me these last night?” I ask, grabbing a pen from my bag so that I can sign it. “I forgot to give it to you last night.” “Here, I have signed it. But I wanted to ask, what will happen if I breach the contract,” I ask because I didn’t bother to read the whole contract again. “You will pay me $10,000!” Ismail grins. “I will pay WHAT!” I yell in disbelieve. “$10,000 and also pay for dry cle

The week has gone by so fast. I can’t believe how much has changed. Living in the same house as Ismail is easier than I thought. We hardly fight, but when we do Aazim is always there to break it up. He kept to his word and had my laptop fixed. I was surprised he did, but it made me understand Ismail is a man of his word. Something I find good about him, even though I dislike him. Today is the day of the presentation of the project I have been working on for the past week. I have been pacing up and down the kitchen this morning making sure everything I need is ready, but I can’t seem to cool down because the way Ismail is looking at me is not helping. He has this boyish smirk on his face as if he can’t wait for me to mess this up so he can rub it in my face. I am so going to prove him wrong today. “Will you stop looking at me like that!” “How am I looking at you, Miss,” Ismail says, smirking more knowing he is getting to me. “I don’t know! Just stop!”

Today Fatima and I are meeting up after work to talk about her and Udar’s almost marriage. I am still shocked she almost got married and I am just finding out about it now. Today I am wearing white high waist wide leg trousers, a black top, white swing coat, black stiletto heels, a black hajib, and a black handbag. I perform my Asr (late afternoon) prayers before going to see Fatima. I just finished at the office, and I am on my way over to her place.  I park my car and walk out to meet Fatima. The home has a black cast iron gate with lovely flowers all around the front porch. It’s a two-story building. I ring the bell three times before the maid opens it for me. I make my way straight to Fatima’s room. The entryway is as lovely as the front porch; there are grand staircases with black bannisters leading to two separate parts in the house, and a big crystal chandelier. “As-salamu Alaykum,” I say walking into her room after knocking. Fatim