One Hundred and Thirty Three

As narrated by Sumayya:

Oh my god, he is sooo hot!

Faraaz accepted my Instagram follower request, and, turns out, he’s Mr. Handsome, Hamza’s friend, who was here last week.

I accept his follower request, but not before checking through my own pictures for any cringe-worthy ones.

The other dude, Imtiaz, declined my request and I followed suit, not really interested after having just went through Faraaz’s pictures!

Feeling slightly giddy with happiness, I shove my phone in my pocket and head to the kitchen for supper.

“Sumayya, can you just put this on the table, please,” says mummy, handing me a plate of rolls.

“The table isn’t set yet,” I say, having walked passed the bare dining room table just a few seconds ago.

Mummy turns around with a frown.

“It is,” says Tayyibah, walking into the kitchen.

I shoot her an annoyed look.

Why do smaller sisters think they know everything, little twats! 

“Abba said we should start eating on the floor again now that my foot is fine,” she says, grinning as she takes the plate of rolls. “He said that we have no excuse to miss out on a Sunnah.”

“Oh,” I say, slightly irritated that she is actually correct.

I hear the front door opening then closing.

That must be Hamza back from madrassah. 

A short while later, we all sit down to eat.

“How is Moulana?” Abba asks Hamza.

“He’s well, Alhamdulillah,” replies Hamza.

“Did you know your sabaq?” asks Mummy.

“Jee, I think so,” he replies.

Having passed matric with 7 distinctions, I was quite surprised when Hamza announced that he would like to start Hifdh this year, and not pursue some fancy degree.

In fact, I was a tad bit disappointed..

Nevertheless, he seems to be enjoying it quite a bit.

After supper I help to clear up for a little bit before heading back to my room.

I complete my mountain-pile of homework, change into my pj’s and then get into bed, feeling only a tiny amount of guilt for leaving out my Easha prayer.

My phone vibrates just as I’m dozing off, but, too drowsy to check it, I ignore it.

With a contented sigh, I turn over and fall into a deep sleep.

As narrated by Dee:

“I’m thinking of going to the gym tomorrow,” I say to Amz as we wash up the supper dishes.

“Really?” she asks, surprised. “That’s great!”

“Well, actually, Meez asked me to join him. Said he wants to work on his reflex and someone tipped him off that I’m a good ‘trainer’,” I say, quoting the word in the air with my fingers.

“No guessing who that was,” laughs Amaani.

I roll my eyes, thinking back to the time Zee would keep me company, often holding the defense pads while I would train.

Martial Arts was my favourite extracurricular activity, and still, more often than not, my hands yearn to be covered in padded gloves, my feet long to feel the gust of wind as they slice through the air, and my heart craves the rush of blood pumping through as it pounds vigorously.

I think of Dayyanah, picturing her poised, ready to strike. I remember how light she was on her feet, always sending a perfect kick; strong, precise. Not so much with her hands though; boxing was my forte.


I snap out of my daze, as Amz splashes some water from the sink onto me.


“I asked, what time are you going?” says Amz, splashing me again.

“Ohh. Meez said- Oh my God, did you splash me with water from there?” I ask in revulsion, pointing at the sink with washing water.

“It doesn’t make a difference,” Amz says nonchalantly, trying to hide her grin.

“Urgh that’s disgusting!” I exclaim, opening the tap and washing my face.

“Not in the rinsing water!!” shouts Amz, moving the tap to the other side.

“You just said it doesn’t make a difference!” I say, smirking.

We wash up the remaining dishes, and I pack them away whilst Amz locks up and sets the alarm.

Switching off the lights, we head upstairs together.

“So, when are you -”

“We’re not discussing that,” I say, cutting Amz off, knowing exactly what she is about to ask.

She sighs heavily.

“C’mon, you -”

“Amz!” I warn her sharply. “No.”

“Please?” she begs, kicking off her shoes and getting comfortable on my bed.

“No!” I say again, taking out a set of pajamas.

“Fine,” she huffs, reaching for my phone on my pedestal.

“Wait!” I command, lunging forward and grabbing my phone from her hand.

She raises an eyebrow and I feel my face heat up slightly as I delete my last chat.

“There, you can use it now,” I say, grinning sheepishly as I hand her my phone.

“What are you hiding?” she asks seriously.

“Nothing,” I reply, much too quickly.

She laughs.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t seem like,” she says, looking at me questioningly.

“No,” I say immediately. “I mean, yes. Yes, I’m sure.”

Blimey, I can’t even lie to Amz smoothly!

It’s quiet for a while; I change into my pajamas whilst Amz uses my phone.

“Aha!” exclaims Amz.

“I thought you do know that you can’t hide anything from me,” says Amz.

“I’m not hiding anything,” I say, smiling innocently.

I leave the room to throw my clothes into the washing basket.

“You don’t have to pretend,” says Amz, rolling her eyes as I walk back into the room and flop down next to her.

A moment of silence passes.

“So,” she says, finally. “Are you going to tell me what was so confidential about your chat with Zee that you had to delete it?”

Hey. Hi. Hello. Salaam. Bonjour. Salut. Ciao. Ahoj. Bog. Marhaba. Ola. 

Possibility that I might stop writing at the end of this season, which will end after 7 posts. Still deciding though so let’s hope I find some inspiration to continue.. 

Apologies for the long wait..

Much Love, 

Troubled Illusioner. ❤


12 thoughts on “One Hundred and Thirty Three

  1. Please don’t end the blog, take a break and come back please….
    Wonder who messaged Sumayya and what the convo was between Dee and Zee that she didn’t want Amz

    Liked by 1 person

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