🔥 Hijab didn't flinch in front of Bilal — but hours later, the unease still clung to her like perfume she didn't choose. 🔥
The car ride home felt heavier than usual.Mr. Ahmed drove in silence, eyes fixed on the road ahead. The faint tapping of his thumb on the steering wheel was the only sound breaking the quiet. Beside him, Ammi shifted in her seat, opened her mouth as if to speak, then stopped.
"Bilal… he's different," she said finally, her voice low. "Too polite. Too smooth."
Mr. Ahmed's grip tightened on the wheel for a second, then relaxed. "Maybe you are overthinking. Bilal is young. He grew up abroad... perhaps... he is just... confident."
"Maybe."Ammi didn't sound convinced. Her gaze drifted to Hijab in the backseat.
Hijab sat still, her expression unreadable as streetlights washed over her face in quick flashes of gold and shadow.
"You didn't say much," Ammi ventured softly. "What did you think of him?"
Hijab didn't answer right away. Her fingers traced the stitching on her handbag.
"He's… courteous," she said at last, her tone careful, neutral — the kind of courteous that hides more than it reveals.
That was all she gave.Ammi exchanged a brief look with her husband but said nothing more. The rest of the drive passed in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts.
At home, Hijab woke to faint voices drifting from the lounge. Afternoon light cut across her room in soft lines, warming the floor. She sat up slowly, adjusted her scarf, and stepped into the hallway.
Sameer was there, standing near the sofa in a black button-down shirt and grey trousers, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. His watch caught the light as he shook her father's hand, a small polite smile on his face.
"Assalamu Alaikum, cousin," he said when he noticed her.
"Wa Alaikum Assalam."
"You didn't come to university today."His tone was casual, but his eyes sharpened slightly as he studied her face.
"I went to Shan Uncle's house," she replied evenly, taking a seat near her mother.
"Hmm."Sameer didn't push the subject, but his gaze lingered for a moment too long.
When the conversation in the lounge shifted back to family matters, Sameer excused himself and followed Hijab as she stepped into the hallway.
"You've been quiet since I came in," he said softly. "Something happened, didn't it?"
Hijab hesitated, then nodded toward the verandah. "Let's sit outside."
The air outside was cooler. Hijab sat on the edge of a wooden bench while Sameer leaned casually against the railing, arms folded.
"So… Shan Uncle's house," he said after a moment. "And?"
"I met Bilal."
"Bilal...?"
"Shan Uncle's only son. Just got back from America."
Sameer's eyes narrowed slightly, though his tone stayed light. "First impression?"
Hijab thought for a moment before answering.
"He's… charming," she said finally. "The kind of charm that feels practiced. Smooth words, polite smiles, nothing out of place."
Sameer giggled. "Sounds harmless enough."
"That's the thing," she murmured. "It didn't feel harmless. It felt... staged — like I was walking into someone else's performance."
He tilted his head. "How so?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "It's hard to explain. He's the type of person who watches everything—and not in a curious way. It's more like he's assessing. Calculating."
Sameer's smirk faded. "Hmm. So not the 'golden boy' everyone says he is?"
"Golden, maybe," Hijab said quietly. "But gold can still have sharp edges."
Sameer nodded, but Hijab didn't miss it — that flicker of doubt in his eyes. Something had shifted.
"Well… you've always been good at reading people. If that's what you felt, I won't question it."
Hijab's lips curved faintly. "It's just an impression, Sameer. I could be wrong."
"Maybe. But I'll trust your instincts over his reputation any day," he said.Neither of them knew it yet, but Bilal had already begun turning his gaze toward her — and he didn't play fair.