HELLOOOOO! :D Ramadhan kareem w mbarik 3leikom elshahar! I've missed you guys, I'm not back yet but I found a way to post, if you read one of my tweets you'd know how. :o)
*IMPORTANT* READ PLEASE: Just a reminder, my stories are for entertainment and not for influencing. Etha taboun tetraboun, la tetraboun men stories w musalsalat w b3dain tiyoun etgolounly (ow to other bloggers) "shfeech tiktibeen/tektib love stories?!" I don't see people complaining about Twilight and how Bella got into a relationship or how from the Hunger Games, how the main character kissed a boy without marriage, adry hathola fiction stories w ajnebeyeen w e7na muslimeen bas think about it, why does our society question us Arabs but don't question stories or movies by the West? And why is it okay for them to write fictional erotic or romantic stories without you guys complaining but when we Arabs write fictional stories, suddenly everyone is questioning us and our principles? So it's okay for you to watch a romance movie (that can have scenes with kissing, things that our eyes shouldn't see at all) but it isn't okay for an Arab to write a love story that is purely fiction and in my sake, appropriate for most age groups? These things are for entertainment purposes, stop using it as if it's a way to get raised by. Want to get raised properly? Go to your family or parents, NOT to the TV, or to the books or whatever else there is to get "influenced" by.
I ALWAYS remind my readers not to copy any of the characters, I do not encourage dating and love isn't 7aram if it's done in the right way, through marriage. Thank you to all who have been patient with me, understanding I have a life outside the blog and have been supporting me nonetheless. I love all of you. :D
I brought back an old character but changed her name, remember Lisa-Anne? (For the people whor read my old 50 chapter story). She's back, in a new form!
-
Previously on chapter 6:
I parked outside a white painted house with a huge garden that had a little fountain in the front of it, a few cars were parked outside such as Porsche Cayenne and a Ferrari but the house seemed dead quiet. I didn't park too close to the house, I didn't want Layal to get into trouble because of my stupid lie of knowing her brother Ibrahim.
"Mashkour." Layal murmured coldly before getting out of the car.
"Layal digeega!" I called out before she could shut the car door, she was in a hurry to leave.
"Shnu?" Layal said, distracted.
"Aklich?" I laughed, grabbing her take away bag out of the back of the Rolls Royce, handing it over to her.
"Oh." Layal bit her bottom lip, grabbing her food hesitantly.
"Layal mnu hatha?" A new voice entered into the picture, startling both Layal and I.
-
"Layal?!" The voice demanded. I looked up and was surprised to find a Filipino lady with wrinkles that shaped her feminine features. She wore a crisp beige uniform, her hair was up in a tight neat bun but her Arabic was broken, yet she continued to speak in Kuwaiti.
"Denny it's Ibrahim's friend, don't worry." Layal tried to reassure the nanny but Layal's face looked fearful, as if she was speaking to her mother rather than a housekeeper.
"Layal enti shnu sawi al7een!" Denny barked, crossing her arms over her tiny frail body.
"Uhm, sorry but Layal didn't do anything, so you don't need to tell her parents or anything." I chipped in, trying to defend Layal. Denny's small Asian eyes drifted to mine, glaring at me.
"Enta mnu?! T3al ana wadi enta 7ag baba!" Denny continued trying to speak in Kuwaiti but I was shocked to find Layal laughing in the midst of Denny being angry.
"Umbay Denny, stop it with the Arabic, it won't scare off guys." Layal gasped in between laughs.
"Layal this is not funny, oki? What is dat boy doin' here? Wait I get my bag and I will hit him!" Denny replied angrily, turning around to walk back into the house.
"Denny wait no!" Layal ran after her, her feet swiping over the concrete floor outside their large house.
I ran my fingers through my hair nervously, waiting for Layal to come back. I waited for around 20 minutes? I took this as cue to leave the house, I didn't want any of Layal's siblings or even her parents catching me waiting around outside their house.
I pushed hard on the pedal, whizzing off. While I was on the way back to our house, completely dismissing the idea of going back to the shaleih since I didn't want to run into the guys again, I heard a weird ringtone. It wasn't my ringtone, it was too jingly.
I flipped my head around and found an iPhone 4S laying on the back seats of my Rolls Royce.
The best and sexiest Abdulrahman ever!:**** is calling.
My nosiness got the best of me, I extended a free arm back and grabbed the iPhone, keeping my left hand over the steering wheel. I pressed on "accept" and muted myself so the guy wouldn't hear my voice.
"Layoulaa 7beebty weinch? Waleht 3leich!" The guy's voice boomed into the phone, full of excitement.
Layoula? And what the hell, "waleht 3leich"?
I hung up on him and turned off Layal's iPhone. It had a passkey so I couldn't check her text messages to know more about this Abdulrahman guy.
Shfeek em3a9ib? Enta shaku bil bent? Kaifha if she has a boyfriend, it's not as if you were purely innocent. You just met her today, you have no right to be angry or jealous.
I ignored the little voice and the word "jealous". I am NOT jealous.
I wasn't.
I can't be.
I parked besides our other cars once I reached home. I raced upstairs, trying to avoid seeing anyone. Jenny, our housekeeper, caught me, she was about to call my name but I was safe in my bedroom, the door closed behind me before her voice could be heard.
That night, my head was filled with endless thoughts about Layal, my father and especially this Abdulrahman guy. As hard as I tried falling asleep, I failed. Even the brisk coolness of my pillow and spread sheets weren't seductive enough. I checked my blog twitter again and the followers numbers were increasing.
I also got a new DM. It was from that blogger, that made up the whole story, aiming the fault of Manal and I's relationship on me. She practically turned the story around, making me the bad guy.
"@forever****: You like to play dirty, don't you? ;) Check out my latest chapter babe!"
She can't be serious, can she? She doesn't sound intimidated or scared, not at all..
I clicked on her blog and read her latest chapter.
"Hello my beautiful readersss:* all of you are asking who the Thari is in my story;)
I'll give you a clue.. he's from a very famous family, I'm sure all of you know the family.
And they sure love the sports cars.
And of course, their eldest son Thari, is the biggest player in Kuwait.
I won't be surprised if any of you girls have been with him in the past or are with him right now, to the girls who are dating him right now, he has more than one girlfriend, he is a very hard man to please this Thari. :(
Don't make the same mistake as Manal."
This girl is ruthless but I 'll find out who she is, a man's reputation isn't as breakable as a woman's. I'll show her.
I grabbed my Macbook, placing it over my lap before opening Blogspot to write a new chapter. My readers were hungry for a new post and I knew exactly what to write.
"Hope you like this new chapter, this story is ALLLLLL true.. even the names and appearances of the characters are true. :)"
I made sure I wrote all of the embarrassing facts of Manal that I knew about. I wasn't ready yet to bomb the readers with Manal's cruelty. I knew that if Manal read the story, she would be shocked. Especially when I described her as the Manal I once knew, she was going to be easy to spot. And not every Manal in Kuwait had a scar on her right cheek and bikini photos of herself on public sites.
That night, I slept like a baby after throwing my anger all into the chapter I wrote for my readers.
-
"Thari, wake up, you have work." Jenny's rough hands were dug into my back, trying to shake me around to wake me up. My body build was too heavy and muscular for her to shake well enough.
"Mmm Jenny no." I roared, stuffing my head back into my pillow.
"YOU HAVE WORK WAKE UP THARI!" Jenny's screeched, causing me to wince.
"OKAY OKAY JENNY!" I shouted back, forcing myself out of bed. Jenny snickered and left my bedroom, leaving me to shower and change into my Armani shirt and Hollister sweatpants.
I grabbed a hoodie and was ready to leave the house. The Rolls Royce was gone, my father probably took it and so, I used the Range Rover.
I had a day off in university so I could use it as a work day. I drove through the crowded streets of Kuwait, many of the cars were rushing, trying to race to work or school. I passed the familiar buildings before I finally reached Chocolate Bar.
"You're late." The Chocolate Bar manager named Ferro said in a stern voice once I entered. He had light sandy skin and his accent was dipped in Italian.
"Really? I thought I was early." I yawned, the bright sun rays blinding my eyes momentarily. The smell of fresh luscious chocolate cake and crisp chicken salads caused my stomach to growl in response.
"It's 8:00 am, you were supposed to be here an hour ago." Ferro's forehead furrowed in disappointment, he pushed the Chocolate Bar apron to my chest and walked off with a "Don't be late next time."
I made my way behind the Chocolate Bar counter, finding Layal and a couple of her girl friends chatting since the restaurant wasn't filled with people.
"Layal." I said in a polite tone. Layal turned around, her colourful eyes were rimmed with light eyeliner and nothing else, she looked fresh and wide awake.
"Na3am?" Layal replied, her girl friends weren't nosy and continued their conversation, not giving Layal and I attention.
"Telephonich." I pulled out her iPhone out of the pockets of my Hollister sweats and handed it to Layal.
"Mashkour." Layal looked at me, looking confused. I couldn't figure out why she was so confused.
But the name Abdulrahman was still stuck deep in my head, hardening my expression and causing my anger to arise once again.
-
-LAYAL-
When Thari walked into the restaurant, his hair a mess but his grin lazily placed on his face, he looked effortlessly good. I was expecting him to throw a few jokes at me or try to start up a conversation like yesterday but he seemed cold, his grin melted away once he was in front of me, his hand extended, handing me over my iPhone.
"El3afu." Thari replied cold heartlessly, turning around to walk into the kitchen where the manager was. I had a tiny bit of hope that he only took this job for me but after today, I thought wrong.
He seemed so different, was it because of our nanny Denny? How she embarrassed me?
I don't get boys at all.
I wrote my iPhone pass code which was 6591 and unlocked it. I scanned through my text messages and checked my missed calls afterwards.
I found something peculiar. I had a few missed calls from my friends but I found one from Abdulrahman.
I smiled to myself once I read the funny nickname.
*A year ago*
"Sim3ay 3adil, bas 3shan ana barou7 London 3shan adris that doesn't mean you can do whatever you want. You better take care of yourself Layal, now you're the eldest one in the family, you are the woman of the house, our mother might be gone but don't forget about how much Dad had gone through because he had to raise us alone." Abdulrahman's voice was serious, it echoed a bit in the deserted airport in Kuwait. I was clutching onto him after our hug, my eyes were rimmed with tears.
"Enshallah." I hiccuped. I felt lost without a big brother, now I had to take care of Yasmine, the youngest in our family alone. I didn't count my other big brother Ebrahim as a "big brother", he was reckless and all he did was either date or go to the diwaneya. Abdulrahman was the only brother who was there for all of us.
"And don't forget, if any guy gets close to you, you better punch him." Abdulrahman tried to joke around with me to push off my tears. We were alone in the airport since it was so early, I decided to go with him since my sister was asleep, Ebrahim was too lazy and my Dad was ill, he didn't have the strength to drive with us.
"I will." I laughed weakly.
"3a6eene telephonich." Abdulrahman demanded. I handed him my phone quickly, not afraid of him seeing my chats or anything. I didn't have a guy on my phone, all of them were girls.
After a few fingers being swiped here and there, Abdulrahman handed me my phone back.
"Egray esmi." He said with a smile, his hair gelled back in a polished way.
"The best and sexiest Abdulrahman ever!:****"
I laughed in response, it was silly, it was Abdulrahman all over.
"Shoufay? 3shan kel ma adig 3leich, ti'97keen, okay? W enshallah I'll visit whenever I can." He continued, letting go of me. I looked into his dark eyes, they didn't resemble mine. I was the only girl in the family with the eyes of my mother's and I hated it.
"Enshallah." I repeated obediently. We hugged one more time before saying our final goodbye, I watched his bare back disappear off into the crowds of people. He was a blurry image for a second and then in the next second, he was gone.
*IMPORTANT* READ PLEASE: Just a reminder, my stories are for entertainment and not for influencing. Etha taboun tetraboun, la tetraboun men stories w musalsalat w b3dain tiyoun etgolounly (ow to other bloggers) "shfeech tiktibeen/tektib love stories?!" I don't see people complaining about Twilight and how Bella got into a relationship or how from the Hunger Games, how the main character kissed a boy without marriage, adry hathola fiction stories w ajnebeyeen w e7na muslimeen bas think about it, why does our society question us Arabs but don't question stories or movies by the West? And why is it okay for them to write fictional erotic or romantic stories without you guys complaining but when we Arabs write fictional stories, suddenly everyone is questioning us and our principles? So it's okay for you to watch a romance movie (that can have scenes with kissing, things that our eyes shouldn't see at all) but it isn't okay for an Arab to write a love story that is purely fiction and in my sake, appropriate for most age groups? These things are for entertainment purposes, stop using it as if it's a way to get raised by. Want to get raised properly? Go to your family or parents, NOT to the TV, or to the books or whatever else there is to get "influenced" by.
I ALWAYS remind my readers not to copy any of the characters, I do not encourage dating and love isn't 7aram if it's done in the right way, through marriage. Thank you to all who have been patient with me, understanding I have a life outside the blog and have been supporting me nonetheless. I love all of you. :D
I brought back an old character but changed her name, remember Lisa-Anne? (For the people whor read my old 50 chapter story). She's back, in a new form!
-
Previously on chapter 6:
I parked outside a white painted house with a huge garden that had a little fountain in the front of it, a few cars were parked outside such as Porsche Cayenne and a Ferrari but the house seemed dead quiet. I didn't park too close to the house, I didn't want Layal to get into trouble because of my stupid lie of knowing her brother Ibrahim.
"Mashkour." Layal murmured coldly before getting out of the car.
"Layal digeega!" I called out before she could shut the car door, she was in a hurry to leave.
"Shnu?" Layal said, distracted.
"Aklich?" I laughed, grabbing her take away bag out of the back of the Rolls Royce, handing it over to her.
"Oh." Layal bit her bottom lip, grabbing her food hesitantly.
"Layal mnu hatha?" A new voice entered into the picture, startling both Layal and I.
-
"Layal?!" The voice demanded. I looked up and was surprised to find a Filipino lady with wrinkles that shaped her feminine features. She wore a crisp beige uniform, her hair was up in a tight neat bun but her Arabic was broken, yet she continued to speak in Kuwaiti.
"Denny it's Ibrahim's friend, don't worry." Layal tried to reassure the nanny but Layal's face looked fearful, as if she was speaking to her mother rather than a housekeeper.
"Layal enti shnu sawi al7een!" Denny barked, crossing her arms over her tiny frail body.
"Uhm, sorry but Layal didn't do anything, so you don't need to tell her parents or anything." I chipped in, trying to defend Layal. Denny's small Asian eyes drifted to mine, glaring at me.
"Enta mnu?! T3al ana wadi enta 7ag baba!" Denny continued trying to speak in Kuwaiti but I was shocked to find Layal laughing in the midst of Denny being angry.
"Umbay Denny, stop it with the Arabic, it won't scare off guys." Layal gasped in between laughs.
"Layal this is not funny, oki? What is dat boy doin' here? Wait I get my bag and I will hit him!" Denny replied angrily, turning around to walk back into the house.
"Denny wait no!" Layal ran after her, her feet swiping over the concrete floor outside their large house.
I ran my fingers through my hair nervously, waiting for Layal to come back. I waited for around 20 minutes? I took this as cue to leave the house, I didn't want any of Layal's siblings or even her parents catching me waiting around outside their house.
I pushed hard on the pedal, whizzing off. While I was on the way back to our house, completely dismissing the idea of going back to the shaleih since I didn't want to run into the guys again, I heard a weird ringtone. It wasn't my ringtone, it was too jingly.
I flipped my head around and found an iPhone 4S laying on the back seats of my Rolls Royce.
The best and sexiest Abdulrahman ever!:**** is calling.
My nosiness got the best of me, I extended a free arm back and grabbed the iPhone, keeping my left hand over the steering wheel. I pressed on "accept" and muted myself so the guy wouldn't hear my voice.
"Layoulaa 7beebty weinch? Waleht 3leich!" The guy's voice boomed into the phone, full of excitement.
Layoula? And what the hell, "waleht 3leich"?
I hung up on him and turned off Layal's iPhone. It had a passkey so I couldn't check her text messages to know more about this Abdulrahman guy.
Shfeek em3a9ib? Enta shaku bil bent? Kaifha if she has a boyfriend, it's not as if you were purely innocent. You just met her today, you have no right to be angry or jealous.
I ignored the little voice and the word "jealous". I am NOT jealous.
I wasn't.
I can't be.
I parked besides our other cars once I reached home. I raced upstairs, trying to avoid seeing anyone. Jenny, our housekeeper, caught me, she was about to call my name but I was safe in my bedroom, the door closed behind me before her voice could be heard.
That night, my head was filled with endless thoughts about Layal, my father and especially this Abdulrahman guy. As hard as I tried falling asleep, I failed. Even the brisk coolness of my pillow and spread sheets weren't seductive enough. I checked my blog twitter again and the followers numbers were increasing.
I also got a new DM. It was from that blogger, that made up the whole story, aiming the fault of Manal and I's relationship on me. She practically turned the story around, making me the bad guy.
"@forever****: You like to play dirty, don't you? ;) Check out my latest chapter babe!"
She can't be serious, can she? She doesn't sound intimidated or scared, not at all..
I clicked on her blog and read her latest chapter.
"Hello my beautiful readersss:* all of you are asking who the Thari is in my story;)
I'll give you a clue.. he's from a very famous family, I'm sure all of you know the family.
And they sure love the sports cars.
And of course, their eldest son Thari, is the biggest player in Kuwait.
I won't be surprised if any of you girls have been with him in the past or are with him right now, to the girls who are dating him right now, he has more than one girlfriend, he is a very hard man to please this Thari. :(
Don't make the same mistake as Manal."
This girl is ruthless but I 'll find out who she is, a man's reputation isn't as breakable as a woman's. I'll show her.
I grabbed my Macbook, placing it over my lap before opening Blogspot to write a new chapter. My readers were hungry for a new post and I knew exactly what to write.
"Hope you like this new chapter, this story is ALLLLLL true.. even the names and appearances of the characters are true. :)"
I made sure I wrote all of the embarrassing facts of Manal that I knew about. I wasn't ready yet to bomb the readers with Manal's cruelty. I knew that if Manal read the story, she would be shocked. Especially when I described her as the Manal I once knew, she was going to be easy to spot. And not every Manal in Kuwait had a scar on her right cheek and bikini photos of herself on public sites.
That night, I slept like a baby after throwing my anger all into the chapter I wrote for my readers.
-
"Thari, wake up, you have work." Jenny's rough hands were dug into my back, trying to shake me around to wake me up. My body build was too heavy and muscular for her to shake well enough.
"Mmm Jenny no." I roared, stuffing my head back into my pillow.
"YOU HAVE WORK WAKE UP THARI!" Jenny's screeched, causing me to wince.
"OKAY OKAY JENNY!" I shouted back, forcing myself out of bed. Jenny snickered and left my bedroom, leaving me to shower and change into my Armani shirt and Hollister sweatpants.
I grabbed a hoodie and was ready to leave the house. The Rolls Royce was gone, my father probably took it and so, I used the Range Rover.
I had a day off in university so I could use it as a work day. I drove through the crowded streets of Kuwait, many of the cars were rushing, trying to race to work or school. I passed the familiar buildings before I finally reached Chocolate Bar.
"You're late." The Chocolate Bar manager named Ferro said in a stern voice once I entered. He had light sandy skin and his accent was dipped in Italian.
"Really? I thought I was early." I yawned, the bright sun rays blinding my eyes momentarily. The smell of fresh luscious chocolate cake and crisp chicken salads caused my stomach to growl in response.
"It's 8:00 am, you were supposed to be here an hour ago." Ferro's forehead furrowed in disappointment, he pushed the Chocolate Bar apron to my chest and walked off with a "Don't be late next time."
I made my way behind the Chocolate Bar counter, finding Layal and a couple of her girl friends chatting since the restaurant wasn't filled with people.
"Layal." I said in a polite tone. Layal turned around, her colourful eyes were rimmed with light eyeliner and nothing else, she looked fresh and wide awake.
"Na3am?" Layal replied, her girl friends weren't nosy and continued their conversation, not giving Layal and I attention.
"Telephonich." I pulled out her iPhone out of the pockets of my Hollister sweats and handed it to Layal.
"Mashkour." Layal looked at me, looking confused. I couldn't figure out why she was so confused.
But the name Abdulrahman was still stuck deep in my head, hardening my expression and causing my anger to arise once again.
-
-LAYAL-
When Thari walked into the restaurant, his hair a mess but his grin lazily placed on his face, he looked effortlessly good. I was expecting him to throw a few jokes at me or try to start up a conversation like yesterday but he seemed cold, his grin melted away once he was in front of me, his hand extended, handing me over my iPhone.
"El3afu." Thari replied cold heartlessly, turning around to walk into the kitchen where the manager was. I had a tiny bit of hope that he only took this job for me but after today, I thought wrong.
He seemed so different, was it because of our nanny Denny? How she embarrassed me?
I don't get boys at all.
I wrote my iPhone pass code which was 6591 and unlocked it. I scanned through my text messages and checked my missed calls afterwards.
I found something peculiar. I had a few missed calls from my friends but I found one from Abdulrahman.
I smiled to myself once I read the funny nickname.
*A year ago*
"Sim3ay 3adil, bas 3shan ana barou7 London 3shan adris that doesn't mean you can do whatever you want. You better take care of yourself Layal, now you're the eldest one in the family, you are the woman of the house, our mother might be gone but don't forget about how much Dad had gone through because he had to raise us alone." Abdulrahman's voice was serious, it echoed a bit in the deserted airport in Kuwait. I was clutching onto him after our hug, my eyes were rimmed with tears.
"Enshallah." I hiccuped. I felt lost without a big brother, now I had to take care of Yasmine, the youngest in our family alone. I didn't count my other big brother Ebrahim as a "big brother", he was reckless and all he did was either date or go to the diwaneya. Abdulrahman was the only brother who was there for all of us.
"And don't forget, if any guy gets close to you, you better punch him." Abdulrahman tried to joke around with me to push off my tears. We were alone in the airport since it was so early, I decided to go with him since my sister was asleep, Ebrahim was too lazy and my Dad was ill, he didn't have the strength to drive with us.
"I will." I laughed weakly.
"3a6eene telephonich." Abdulrahman demanded. I handed him my phone quickly, not afraid of him seeing my chats or anything. I didn't have a guy on my phone, all of them were girls.
After a few fingers being swiped here and there, Abdulrahman handed me my phone back.
"Egray esmi." He said with a smile, his hair gelled back in a polished way.
"The best and sexiest Abdulrahman ever!:****"
I laughed in response, it was silly, it was Abdulrahman all over.
"Shoufay? 3shan kel ma adig 3leich, ti'97keen, okay? W enshallah I'll visit whenever I can." He continued, letting go of me. I looked into his dark eyes, they didn't resemble mine. I was the only girl in the family with the eyes of my mother's and I hated it.
"Enshallah." I repeated obediently. We hugged one more time before saying our final goodbye, I watched his bare back disappear off into the crowds of people. He was a blurry image for a second and then in the next second, he was gone.
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