As narrated by Meez:

The weekend has finally arrived! It had been an agonizingly slow week and I had found myself slowly slipping into a familiar, dark place.

I blamed myself for Daanyaal being in hospital and Dee’s sadness hurt me more than I thought it would.

A month and few weeks ago, I had overheard dad telling mum that Uncle Riaaz, Dee and Daanyaal’s monster of a father, had demanded his kids come back home. Some shit about him finally realizing his mistakes and correcting his behaviour. That idiot! It bothered me and I checked up on Dee more often. I knew for sure that she wouldn’t go back willingly, but I worried that her father might get to her somehow. She obviously noticed my sudden over protectiveness and questioned it. And being unable to give her an answer without telling her what was going on, I backed off… too much.

As far as I could, I stayed away from my main squad. I ignored their texts and assured them that I was fine when they confronted me in school. I hung out more often with Faizy and his gang, spent more time with Nabz and even got to personally meet Noor; the chic who hosted her birthday party at a club. Thinking back now, that was the first time I’d ever been in a club…

Now, laying on my bed, when I should be asleep, I try calling Dee for what seems like the millionth time. And once again, it just rings. Even though she told me it wasn’t my fault, even though she told me to stop blaming myself, and even though I know that mines are not the only calls she’s ignoring, with every unanswered ring, I become more and more miserable. If only I had told Amz what was going on that night she asked.

Sighing I rub my eyes, frustration overtaking me. My mind is a war zone, contradicting thoughts battling for control.

I will my body to calm down, to get the rest it needs. And just as it begins listening to me, just as slumber slowly sets in, my phone rings.

Deeyanah! Please. Please let it be Dee.


Dammit, why?!

Angry, I reject the call.

The last thing I need right now, is Faizal calling me. Hanging out with him more often obviously means being at home less often and hiding more things from my parents. And it is becoming more and more difficult getting Zee to cover for me, unsuspectingly. But the most difficult part, no doubt, is telling Faizy no.

“No, I can’t join you for Noor’s third party this week.” “No, I’m still recovering from last night.” “No, I’ve never done that before.” “No, my parents won’t allow that.”

I can’t tell him no, I just can’t. And I hate myself for that. I hate myself for being unable to stand up for myself. I hate myself for how easily others have influence over me and how little influence I have over others. I hate how I easily I have become a ‘crowd follower’ when I’ve always been a ‘crowd leader’. I hate how quickly I’ve changed. And I hate who I’ve become.

Faizal calls again and not long thereafter, I find myself in an all too familiar place. The thrill of hitting cloud 9 for the third consecutive night rushes through me, pushing all thoughts of reality to the back of my mind. I light a cigarette, close my eyes and inhale deeply. My foot taps in sync with the music as I wait impatiently for Nabeelah.

And when I see her entering with a group of regular chics, I’m reminded once again that she’ll always be worth the wait. She walks up to me, her strong, feminine perfume hitting me before her lips do. My hands on her hips, my mouth at her ear, I whisper-yell, above the music, “Missed me?”

“You bet,” she whisper-yells back, wrapping her arms around my neck.

Staring into her midnight black eyes, I feel a strong feeling of possessiveness.

And when the music changes, I stub out my cigarette, grab her slender waist and, together, we hit the dance floor.

Allowing the lyrics to control me, my body moves with Nabeelah’s.

The night is still young, my feet still steady when suddenly, unwanted thoughts make their way to the front of my mind. Again.

Daanyaal’s comatose state, Deeyanah’s depression, Amaani’s worry…

I close my eyes tightly, willing them to go away.

And when I open my eyes again, I gasp in surprise.

No, you’re not seeing right, open your eyes.

I blink furiously but my eyes are not playing games.


I look at Nabz, holding her questioning gaze, in hope that when I look away, what I just saw will be gone.

But when I shift my gaze, she’s still there. Her back against the wall, her face inches apart from a dude I’ve never seen before.

Oh my God! It’s her.. it’s Deeyanah! 

But what the hell is she doing here? And why is, oh my God, he’s touching her. Some stranger is touching Dee. Move, Rameez, move!

Snapping out of the paralysis of shock, I let go of Nabz and start moving.

“Meez, babe, what are you doing?!”

Ignoring her, I rush towards Dee.

“DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HER!” I scream, nearing them.

Heads turn but his face only moves closer to hers, their noses now touching.

Rage pulsing through my blood, I grab him roughly, pushing him aside. He is much bigger than me and my strength barely moves him. Standing in front of him I throw a punch at his face. He ducks, easily. Too easily.

“And who the hell are you?” he asks, his voice low, dangerous.

“Don’t you dare put your filthy hands near her,” I threaten, anger solidifying my words.

He pushes me aside roughly and crashes his lips to hers.

Lifting an eyebrow, he looks at me mockingly, “And what’cha gonna do if I don’t listen?”

Frozen with disbelief, I stare incredulously.

Taking a step towards me, he smirks, “Lost your tongue?”

How did Dee just allow him to do that? How is she even here?! What the hell is going on?!?!

I turn my gaze to look at her.. and do a double take.

Oh shit, shit, shit, shit!

This is not Dee.

But- Oh my God… No way!

Those are Dee’s arched eyebrows, but she never fills them in.

Those are Dee’s thin lips, but she doesn’t even own bold red lipstick, let alone wear it.

Those ears have an extra curve identical to Dee’s, but why do they hold so many piercings?

No. No, it can’t be. 

And when she speaks, something inside me snaps.

“Got the wrong chic, dude?”

Oh God, I know that voice! I know a younger version of that voice…

I search her amused eyes. Bright blue, exactly like Dee’s.

But.. how.. no, it isn’t her. 

No way, no frikkin’ way!


8 thoughts on “Fifty

  1. MashaAllah so far your story has been clean ..but today was very disappointed…so many dirty parts..had to stop my students from reading it. Will be really grateful if you could please continue like before and not include intimate parts…Jazakallah khair

    Liked by 2 people

    • Shukran for your comment, sister. I am fully aware that nothing of this post is in hand with the requirements and rules of Shariah and Islam. Regardless of whether we choose to accept it or not, this is the reality of life. Out of our cocooned environment we find too many a Muslim girl and boy wasting their lives in this way. I cannot promise that there will be no more posts like this, as this is the character Rameez portrays. However, I urge you to continue reading as the outcomes of a life of displeasing Allah will soon prevail. I have no intention of glamorizing sin and I hope it has not come across that way. But, to show the consequences of such actions, the actions have to be done! I request that you please read this with an open mind and try to understand where I wish to go with this. JazakAllah again for your comment, much appreciated. ❤
      Have a fantastic day! 🙂


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