"Can I try something else?"
"I think you should take it easy," I told her.
"Don't worry Samir. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself," she said and went through the cocktails list.
"Oh, there's one called Sex on the beach!" she said and laughed.
I just smiled, hoping she would not get drunk. It would be tough explaining to Sohel.
"Come on Samir. Are you always so shy? Is this a good cocktail?" Zainab teased, laughing as she glanced at the menu. The alcohol was clearly beginning to kick in.
"Yes, that's a good cocktail," I said and placed the order with the waiter.
"Oh my, this one is even better, " she exclaimed after taking a sip of the 'sex on the beach'.
"Zainab, take it easy. I'm serious," I said, gently pulling the glass away from her.
"Okay, okay," she said with a mischievous smile, taking it back from my hand.
After some time, she asked me, "Samir, I want to ask you something. Please tell me truthfully."
"Okaaaay," I said, wondering what she wanted to ask me.
"Samir, are you really a Muslim?" she asked.
I was quite surprised by her question and asked, "No, Zainab. I'm not. But why do you ask?"
"But, Sohel told me you are," she said, with a surprised look.
"No...why would he think that?"
Zainab shrugged, "No idea."
"But is that a problem?" I asked, cautiously.
"No, of course not. I'm here drinking alcohol with you, aren't I?", she replied.
"So, is it okay for you to drink alcohol?"
"Actually, not. But I'll ask Allah for forgiveness later. They say he is most merciful," she said, with a ghost of a smile.
"But why does Sohel think you are?" she asked after a pause of a few seconds.
"I had no idea. And I never knew he thought I was. Very strange."
We both sat in silence for some time, with me wondering why Sohel might have come to that conclusion.
"You know, your name does sound like a Muslim name, I suppose that's the reason," she said thoughtfully.
"It does?" I asked, surprised.
"Yes. Actually, Sohel has a cousin called Samir. That must be the reason why he thought that way," she told me.
"You know, you asking me this question does explain a lot of things," I said finally.
"Like what?"
"I've always noticed Sohel had a habit of lecturing me on what is halal and what is haram, and that I should focus more on my deen and some stuff--half of which I didn't even understand."
"He did?"
"Yes, but I would always ignore his statements. But why did you ask me that question, in the first place?"
"My turn to confess, I guess. I hope you won't be angry, Samir," she said.
"No, of course not. Unless you tell me your pretty cousin has refused to meet me!" I joked.
She laughed, and said, "No, no. Nothing like that. I will introduce you guys, don't worry."
"The washing machine detergent got over a couple of days ago, so I went to your room to see if you have any more stored somewhere. I saw the Ganesha and Krishna idols kept on your dressing table. I hope you don't mind my going into your room?"
"Of course not, don't be silly. But did you tell Sohel?"
"No, I didn't," she replied.
I didn't say anything, unsure whether I should tell him or not.
"So since you're not a Muslim, I'm sure you wouldn't mind me taking the hijab off?"
"Not at all," I said.
She removed the hijab, and loosened the bun, letting her soft, chestnut-brown hair fall freely around her shoulders. With practiced fingers, she fluffed it and tucked a few strands into place.
She looked ethereal--so breathtaking that I forgot to breathe for a second. My eyes lingered, captivated by her effortless beauty.
"That's so much more comfortable," she sighed and took a sip of her drink.
She noticed my wide-eyed stare and raised an eyebrow. "What?" she asked, a half-smile playing on her lips.
"Nothing," I muttered sheepishly, looking down at my glass, trying to mask the fact that I'd been shamelessly admiring her.
"Then drink..." she said, nudging her chin toward my drink.
"Yes," I said, and sipped my drink, with an embarrassed smile.
"Don't worry, I will introduce you to my cousin," she said playfully, as if reading my mind.
"Is she as beautiful as you?" I asked, leaning into the banter.
"No, I'm the prettiest in the family. Sorry, you missed your chance," she said with a teasing twinkle in her eye.
I clutched my heart dramatically. "Oh no."
"Okay, okay... maybe she's actually prettier than me," she replied.
"I seriously doubt if that's even possible," I said, getting a bit adventurous.
"Oooh, is it?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
She held my gaze for a moment, the air between us suddenly a little more charged than before.
She tilted her head slightly, her smile softening. "You're good at this, you know."
"At what?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"Making a girl feel seen," she replied, swirling the straw in her drink.
"I meant every word," I said, this time without a hint of flirtation. Just honest.
She looked down at her glass, then back at me. "Well... I guess it feels nice. To be looked at like I matter."
"You do matter," I said quietly. "To more people than you think."
She smiled again, but this time it wasn't teasing. There was warmth in her smile.
"I want to thank you, Samir," she said.
"For what?"
"I didn't expect things to feel so easy and relaxed with you," she admitted. "I thought I'd be awkward. Reserved. You know, like some polite guest tagging along. You've made me feel comfortable and at ease."
"To be honest, I thought the same," I said, chuckling. "I thought you would be like an ice queen...cold...distant. I didn't expect you to be... this fun."
"Why would you think of me like that?" she asked, her eyes wide in surprise.
"Well, in college there was this insanely beautiful girl... not as much as you, of course," I added quickly.
"Of course," she said and grinned.
"So she was like this ice queen. If any guy so much as said hi, she'd hit him with this cold-icy stare that could freeze water."
"Oh really," replied Zainab.
"Yes. I tried once, and got such a look that I had nightmares for days," I laughed.
Zainab laughed. "So you just assumed I'd be the same?"
"I mean, with your looks, anyone would expect you to be untouchable. But here you are... cracking jokes, teasing me, ordering drinks like a boss. Total surprise."
"Oh, I'm full of surprises," she said, some of that spark returning.
"I'm starting to believe that."
She smiled. "Well, I guess I hide my fun side until someone's earned it."
"Then I'm glad I passed the test," I said, raising my glass toward her.
"You did," she replied, clinking her glass with mine. "Barely."
Zainab twirled her straw absentmindedly in her drink, her expression softening. "You know... I haven't laughed like this in a long time."
"Then I'm glad I could change that."
"I don't know why, Sohel is always serious. He doesn't like to have fun," she said ruefully.
"Yeah, he's a bit of a serious kind of guy. But he's a good guy," I replied.
"Yeah," she said, taking another sip and leaned back in her chair, her hair catching the soft lights of the restaurant.
"I think I'm going to have one more. This really tastes nice," she said, holding her empty glass up.
"I guess you can go for it. By the time Sohel comes back, you'll probably be fast asleep," I said.
She was already two drinks down and one more wouldn't hurt.
"Samir, are you trying to get me drunk?" she asked, smiling with one eyebrow raised.
"Maybe," I said with a mischievous smile.
"Okay then," she said, gesturing to the waiter. "Let me surprise you. You might just see another side of me tonight."
While she was ordering another 'sex on the beach', I caught myself thinking what it would be like to actually have sex on the beach with her with the sound of the waves in the background, and quickly pulled myself away from the thought.
She was the woman of my dreams, but there was no point in fantasising about something that could not and should not happen.
"So, tell me about your girlfriends. How many did you have?" she asked, narrowing her eyes playfully.
"I'll tell you if you tell me about your boyfriends," I countered with a grin.
"All right. Deal. So, I already have two names: Aisha and Zeenat. Who else?" she pressed.
"That's all. C'mon, I wasn't that bad in college," I said.
"And why didn't it work out with either of them?"
"Well, with Aisha, it was always casual. We both knew from the start it couldn't go anywhere... interfaith and all. You know what I mean."
"I know what you mean," she said, nodding. "What about Zeenat? Were you serious?"
"Yes, we were," I said, not going further.
"So, what happened?" she persisted.
I went quiet, staring into my glass. A part of me wanted to divert the conversation, but something in her eyes made me feel she'd actually listen, without judgement.
"I got scared. One day, we were in a café, and her brother and cousins barged in. They took her away forcibly, and threatened me. I didn't even get to say goodbye. There was nothing I could do," I said, softly.
She reached out, placing a hand lightly on mine. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to bring that back up."
"Its okay. It helped me evolve. I don't run anymore," I smiled.
She looked at me for a long second, her gaze searching. "And you started learning MMA after that."
"Yes."
She tilted her head, her voice a little softer. "So, if you liked someone now... you'd fight for her?"
My smile faded into something more grounded. "Yes. I'd fight."
She held my gaze for a moment. Something unspoken passed between us--warmth, curiosity. Maybe something more.
Then she glanced down, flipping open the menu again with an awkward little smile. "Well then... I'll have to tell my cousin all this. She'll want a full dossier before she meets you."
"Of course," I laughed.
"Okay, your turn," I said.
"For what?" Zainab asked, playing innocent.
"How many boyfriends have you had?"
"None," she said, and laughed loudly.
"Hey, not fair. You promised," I protested.
"I swear! I didn't have any boyfriends. My father would have killed me if he found out. Plus, my cousins were in the same college," she said.
"That's cheating," I teased.
"Okay, okay. I'll tell you," She said, grinning. "So there was this guy, Subramanium in my BSc Chemistry. He was super smart. Like scary smart. He knew everything, and was a whiz in all the subjects."
"Okay..."
"I had this massive crush on him. He wasn't just brilliant, he was also very kind and helpful. Always ready to help. Organic Chemistry, Inorganic, Physical Chemistry, projects--you name it, he knew it all."
"Of course he helped you," I grinned.
"No, not just me. He helped everyone. That's why I liked him so much. And his way of explaining was so nice and comforting," she replied.
"Comforting? Chemistry?" I exclaimed and laughed, to which she made a face.
"Anyway, then what happened?" I prodded her.
"Same story. Interfaith thing. I didn't have the courage to go beyond asking him doubts," she said with a shrug.
"Hmm."
"I still remember him. Always in a crisp white shirt, and trousers. And he'd have this white tikka on his forehead every day."
"Yes, he sounds very Tamil," I replied. "They're known to be super smart. Maybe something about their sambar, or filter coffee."
"Last I heard, he was doing research at some fancy university in the US," she said, a little wistfully. "Sometimes I wonder... if I'd just had the courage to tell him..."
"Well, maybe it's all for the best. Otherwise, I would never have met you," I said gently.
"Yes... all for the best," she replied, her eyes meeting mine. There was a flicker of something--regret, perhaps--in her gaze.
We finished around 10 o'clock, by which time the crowd had really built up. After I settled the bill, we got up to leave--but just then, the alcohol seemed to hit Zainab. She paused, closed her eyes, and slowly sat back down again.
"Oh God, I think I drank too much," she groaned.
"Yeah, maybe a little," I said with a gentle smile, sitting down beside her and holding a glass of water to her lips. "But don't worry. You're going to be fine."
She took a few sips, then looked at me anxiously. "What's Sohel going to say if he finds out I've been drinking? He'll kill me."
"He doesn't need to know," I said, calmly. "Like I said, by the time he's back, you'll be fast asleep."
Zainab didn't reply but stood up again slowly.
I quickly pulled the chair back and stepped in beside her, placing my right arm around her shoulders and taking her left hand in mine to steady her.
"It's okay. I've got you," I said, and we slowly moved out of the restaurant and towards the car.
Once in the car, she leaned back in the seat, eyes closed.
We had been driving for about ten minutes when she mumbled, "I think I'm going to be sick."
I quickly pulled over and helped her out, guiding her across the pavement to a bare patch of land where she bent over and threw up everything she had eaten and drunk.
When she was done, I helped her wash up with a bottle of water that we'd bought earlier in the day.
Back at the car, instead of getting in, she leaned against it for support.
"The water's finished," she said quietly, looking down at the empty bottle.
"Just stay here. I'll get another one," I said, spotting a small roadside shop about fifty metres away.
While I was buying a bottle of water, a bike with two men pulled up behind my car. One of them walked over to Zainab.
"Sirji, is that your car? Please see what is happening," the shopkeeper called out.
Forgetting about the bottle of water, I sprinted back towards the car.
Just as I got there, the other man got off the bike and tried to block my path.
"What happened, bhai? She's not feeling well. My friend's just helping her."
I tried to push him out of the way, but he was ready for it, and we ended up in a scuffle.
As we struggled, I glimpsed the first man tightly gripping Zainab's arm with one hand while clutching her jaw with the other, forcing her face towards his as if trying to force a kiss.
Already unstable from the alcohol, Zainab was struggling weakly, unable to break free from his grip.
Realizing the man blocking my way wasn't going to budge easily, I drove my knee sharply into his groin. He groaned and doubled over in pain.
I lunged forward, grabbing the other man's hair and yanking his face away from Zainab, then kicked him hard, sending him sprawling to the ground.
I used the few seconds of respite to quickly open the car door and pull out a long screwdriver from the glove compartment.
By the time the fellow recovered and came at me again, I was ready, using the screwdriver to keep him at bay.
Just then, the shopkeeper arrived at the scene with a few others, and together they caught hold of the two men.
"You please go sir," he told me. "We will take care of these rascals."
"Thank you, sir," I said, genuinely grateful for the unexpected help. I don't think I would have been also to handle the situation otherwise, especially with the other guy starting to recover from my knee strike.
"I should thank you, sir. These rascals have been creating a nuisance of themselves, molesting decent people like this. Because of them, this area has got a bad name and our businesses have suffered."
I shook his hand to thank him, and then used the screwdriver to stab the front tyre of the bike, deflating it instantly.
Without wasting a second, I helped Zainab into the car and jumped in myself.
Back behind the wheel, I slammed my foot on the accelerator, and the car screeched away. Once we'd put some distance between ourselves and the scene, I eased off and slowed down to a safer speed.
Zainab had tears in her eyes, "What did I do? How could I be so foolish?"
"You did nothing, Zainab. None of this is your fault. There are good people and bad people. It's just our bad luck today that we encountered the wrong kind. But also think about it...we also met some good people who helped us out."
"But I was the one who drank and lost control of myself. If I'd not drunk, none of this would have happened. Even though I know very well that it is haram to drink alcohol."
"I don't know about all this halal-haram stuff, but trust me, nothing that happened today is because you drank, or because of you in any way. It could have happened even if you had not drank."
"Allah will punish me for what I did," she whispered to yourself.
"No one is punishing anyone here, okay? Just get all that nonsense out of your head."
She chuckled softly and repeated what I'd said, "No one is punishing anyone here. You're very funny."
"Seriously," I added, trying to lighten the mood. "I've heard there are gangs out there who even go around molesting guys."
She let out a soft giggle. "Shut up. Now you're just making things up."
A few minutes later, I glanced over and noticed her quietly staring at me. I raised my eyebrows in curiosity.
She smiled, then leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
By the time we reached home fifteen minutes later, Zainab was fast asleep.
"Zainab, we're home. Wake up," I said, gently shaking her shoulder, but she didn't stir.
When I persisted in my efforts, she half-opened her eyes, murmured something like "I'm so sleepy. Please let me sleep," and drifted off again.
Seeing she wasn't going to wake up, I walked around to her side, opened the door, and gently lifted her out. She was surprisingly light. I swung her foot gently to close the door.
Fortunately, the lift was empty, and I made it to my apartment without attracting any attention from neighbours.
Once inside, I laid her down on the bed and carefully slipped off her silver-coloured sandals.
I glanced at the clock -- it was just a little past ten. Still plenty of time before Sohel got back.
Switching on the air conditioner, I pulled a blanket over her and gently stroked her hair.
"Goodnight, Zainab," I whispered.
As I turned to leave, she suddenly caught my hand.
Wide-eyed, I turned towards her again. I thought she wanted to say something.
She didn't say anything, but her grip remained firm. Gently, I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her beautiful face.
After a few seconds, instead of releasing my hand, she shifted onto her side and tucked my hand between her pillow and cheek, nestling into my palm.
"Okay, now what?" I asked myself.
While I waiting for her hold to loosen, my eyes strayed over her body. Though covered by a blanket, I could still makeout the curve of her slim waist, the swell of her hips, and the contours of her shapely thighs.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. My body responded to her proximity and her curves, my dick hardening in my jeans.
"I have to get out of here, before I end up doing something I should not," I thought to myself.
But my hands were not obeying my mind.
I brought my other hand to her jaw, tracing her jawline till I reached her earring. Taking a moment to admire the intricate design, I slowly moved my fingers down her neck, till they reached the top button of her kameez.
I paused a while, contemplating, and then, slowly undoing the button, I moved my fingers slightly inside the kameez.
She drew in a slow, deep breath--her body responding to my touch in undeniable ways.
My fingers hovered over the second button, just about to undo it, when the notification ping of my phone snapped me out of the trance.
"What am you doing? This is your friend's wife! A guest in your house!" the voice in my head thundered.
Resisting the powerful pull I felt toward the woman before me, I slowly rose, carefully sliding my hand from beneath her cheek.
As I turned to leave, I heard her murmur sleepily, "You fought for me."