Through The Dark (Al-Ameen Family #1)- An Islamic Love Story

Near-Punches and Full Heartbreaks

“Apaa, can we meet up somewhere?”

“What’s wrong?” I instantly sit up, paying more attention to my youngest brother’s voice over the line.

“I just wanna chat. I’ll pick you up around four yeah?” he says in the cheerful voice he always has but I can hear the little worry underlying it.

“Alright. Allah hafiz,” I hang up. Ali was never one to “chat” or have a conversation about much besides food and video games.

“Salam,” Ayaan says, entering the house. I put my prayer mat away and take off my scarf.

“Salam Ayaan. Hey I’m going out for coffee with Ali later. Is that okay?”

“Yeah of course, you don’t have to ask. Do you need a ride?”

“No but if I need you to pick me up, I’ll call you,” I tell him. He gives me a kiss on the forehead and then heads up to change. I call Mannat and lay out lunch.

“Bhabhi, you made biryani!” she squeals, jumping up and down and then right into a seat.

“Fish biryani. I didn’t have time to make it with chicken,” I apologize.

“I love it! Everyone in the house are fish lovers,” she grins.

“Well then I’ll have to make it when your parents are around,” I note. Ayaan joins us and I spoon some onto his plate.

“This is really good,” he compliments me. I smile, opening my bottle of cranberry juice.

“Bhai can we go out for dinner tonight?” Mannat asks him.

“Sure. Saf, you good?”

“Ace.”

“Alright then. Italian good?”

Mannat and I nod.

We clean up after lunch and I head upstairs to get ready. Ayaan chooses a black blouse for me and I wear even though I had my heart set on a green one. Ali comes right at four.

“Call me,” Ayaan reminds me before giving me a kiss and sending me off. I get into Ali’s car and give him a disapproving look. It was my car. My baby.

“It was just sitting there,” he smiles sheepishly. I give him a solid punch on the arm that he takes unwillingly.

True to him, he switches to Hindi music and starts singing at the top of  his lungs.

Ni gori tera thumka bada kinky kinky type da. Ni gori tera jhumka bada funky funky type da. Kateeli teri ankhiyaan,jaise nok nukeeli knife da. Ni gori tera nakhra bada hanky-panky type da

I missed this.

“Ali, mate, shut up!” I pinch him when he reach a light. He turns it down a bit, whining about my crab claws.

“How’s the new life?” he asks as we pull into the parking lot of our favourite café.

“It’s good. Different, but good,” I shrug.

“So I don’t need to beat up any brother-in-laws yet?” he smirks.

“Not yet,” I chuckle, reading over the menu. I order a mango smoothie and a slice of pecan cake for us to share.

We grab a table by a window and sit down. “So brother. What’s going on with you?”

“I need some advice apee,” he sighs, getting serious. It hurts my heart a bit to see my usual idiot of a brother without a smile.

“Advice about what?”

“Dad asked me what my plans were for next year. I’ve applied to some place but,” he stops.