Namal By Nimra Ahmed Novels & Stories

Allah had blessed them with four beautiful children, it wasn't an easy task raising them though, but she couldn't ask for more. Over the years Nabeel and Nadir had grown into young responsible men, Nadir was named after her father Sulyman, he was Fifteen, While Najma was named after his mother Rukaya but was called Najma (star), she was thirteen years, and finally, Ira, named after Nasreen's mother, Hajara, but called Nadira, everybody called her Ira, the chatterbox, of the house, the trouble maker, the spy of the house, and the replica of Nasreen, she was her spitting image, it was like watching herself grow up again, just that she was girly, and a fashionista, unlike Nasreen that was a tom

The Presence of Nargis and Rashid Khan and their little son Ahmed gave the much needed emotional anchor for Damini and Reshma in their new home. Slowly, Reshma began to get accustomed to the new school and friends in Varanasi. Even though Reshma hadn't embraced Sanjay's presence in their lives, she wasn't hostile towards him either.

Nimrit said stammering, "Bhai...I am sorry....I was always jealous of Bhabhi being so beautiful and perfect...everyone always praised her making me insecure...that day when I saw her going towards Sir's coaching & him holding her hand,I wanted to use those as an opportunity to insult her in front of you so that her image destroys. But When Kolhapure Sir told all those, I thought he was right so I supported him as he was our respected professor. I just wanted to enjoy her being insulted....but trust me I didn't want your divorce bhai...I am sorry." I slapped her hard for doing all these. Flashback ends When we decided to meet you and searched for you,Nimrit told us that you are here. So we bo

I didn't care to know but I did like it when she talked. "Her name is Hadiyah—but everyone calls her Haadi for nickname. She is Moalima's daughter. Her parents run the Madrasah. She is from Kashmir but lives in Gulf— Do you know Kashmir, Naveed?" Her voice clashed with my ears but I sufficed to respond with a Nop, popping the P.

"Yeah, I am. I'm looking for em...Zainaab Abdulkareem?" Zainab liked how he called her name with a drawl, with the touch of British accent. When he spoke was to die for, she thought. "Oh, there she is Zainab Abdulakareem." Jamila said. "By the way I'm Jamila, and this is Aisha." She then pointed Aisha with her thumb. "Nice to meet you two. I'm Isma'il Mahmoud." He said looking at Zainab. He then sat down on the chair opposite her.

“I.....I....I... Guessed. Your voice and your face reminds me of someone I considered a mentor and a teacher. Ana Asif (forgive me) if I offended you.” La! La! La! La binti. No such thing. May I sit on the bed? Naam. (Yes) Shukran (thank you).what is your name habibty? Ismi Humeyra bint Ibrahim bin Talha Ibrahim bin Talha? The late mufti. ? Naam she answered with tears in her beautiful eyes. The same eyes she inherited from her father. Which is my favorite surah and Ayah binti?

Everyone on the other side of the camera lens could probably feel the tension in the room as much as we can. "Crystal Jones, Devotion Pack," he announces, his gaze finding the girl who was going home. When I first see her, I don't remember her. Having kept to herself didn't get her anywhere. Malik looks back at his feet. "Aleah Neil, Discipline Pack." Another girl I didn't recognise from first glance. She just clenched her jaw and nodded as she accepted the fact that she hadn't made it past the first round of elimination. As a member of the Discipline Pack, she wasn't about to show anywhere here weakness.

“Olivia, we need to get you out of here.” I was stunned, but I was too scared to show it. I spoke back to the voice in my mind. “Who are you?” “I am the ghost of your conscience,” the voice rang out again, dripping in sarcasm, My face twisted in confusion, and my assailants looked at me equally confused. “I'm your wolf. What did you expect me to say? My name is Nima, and if you keep asking me stupid questions, these ruffians are going to make a savoury meal out of you. I need you to do exactly what I say."

She settled her hands on her hips. "Damn it, Nami, you better get up!" I spit the dirt from my mouth. "Who's "Nom Me"?" Karma rolled her eyes. "You, of course. Nameless chick that's too good to choose a god damn name. I gave you one. Happy? Now get the fuck up!" Mila continued her chant, oblivious to our conversation. I wondered if she even knew Karma was behind her. "Why do you care?" The sentence came out garbled as I fought the rising dirt my body was being pushed down into.

Then Isma Jamal, a hijabi, and a very beautiful girl, she is 25 years old and then it was Amal Abrar, a very modern girl with a lot of makeup plastered on her face and she was 26 years old. Then Musa Khan's eyes moved to her and with a smirk, he nodded at her to speak. Gulping, she looked at him and jerk off the fear. Plastering a smile she started. "Hello....my name is Nayyab Rehman... I am 25... I love to read novels and paintings...I was really excited to begin my job." Her "was" didn't go unnoticed by him and his amusement perk up. "Nice miss Nayyab. But are you not excited anymore?" He asked tauntingly. She looked at him with so much fire in her orbs and then smiled. "I am...."