The atmosphere in the room had shifted palpably after Jamal's words, leaving a stillness that even the movie's; softer moments could not dissolve.
The scent of puff-puff still clung to the air. Faint. Almost sweet enough to mask the shift in the room.
Laughter, which usually flowed freely through their evenings, had been replaced by a heavy silence that lingered through every scene: whether heated, lighthearted, or awkwardly funny. Though, nothing illicit played on the screen. The air still hummed with unspoken tension.
An hour and a half later, the film finally faded to closing credit, leaving only the low hum of jazz trailing through the room.
Jamal exhaled, half-humming an old tune. Part poetry, part resignation. "Hmpph... finally," he scoffed. "See why Jamila wanted wings from Allah." He turned to Jamila. "So... what exactly did we learn from this film?" His words dripped with deliberate sarcasm.
Jamila rolled her eyes. "I liked it. I bought it with my own money. Is that what's killing you?" she shot back, sarcasm matching his.
"Yenyenyenyen, See her mouth." Jamal mimicked, pulling a mocking face. His brows arched. " Why would I even like something that pulls me closer to disobedience? Moreover, what's so thrilling about watching strangers kiss on a screen? At our age, we should be feeding our souls with intelligence and purity, not temptations."
"Fine. Tomorrow bring your own educational cassette, Professor Jamal." Jamila shot back, a smirk playing on her lips.
"I'll do exactly that, Ma," Jamal retorted, grinning as he mirrored her formality.
Almeida rose quietly. "I'll get the tuwo now," she murmured, slipping toward the kitchen without meeting anyone's eyes.
"BarakAllahu," Jamal replied, his stomach already rumbling softly.
Moments later, Mariyah's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, smiled, and rose to her feet. "I'll be back in five." she whispered, picked up her phone and made for the door.
"Oookkaaay..." Jamila teased, stretching the word like taffy. "They've started calling you already."
Mariyah turned at the door, smirking. "And who's calling you?" she asked rhetorically. "Our grandmother's parrot," she added, half-joking.
"Our grandmother's peacock," Jamila shot back with a grin. "Just be mindful of who you follow in Nur Afiya at this hour. Kidnapping cases have been flying around lately."
The door clicked shut, leaving the room wrapped in the kind of quiet that feels louder than noise.
Now only Jamal and Jamila remained in the parlor. Then Jamila stood abruptly. "I'm going to check on my phone."
"Alright. Don't be late," Jamal said, sinking back into the couch. "Tell Almeida to hurry, please. The worms in my stomach are already preaching." He tapped his belly three times. "I might as well stay a little longer and greet your mom when she returns."
"Very well... Be right back." With that, she turned toward the main door.
Jamal smiled faintly, rolled on the wide couch, and exhaled a deep sigh. The tension from the movie, the charged exchanges, the heavy silence now enveloping the house... all left a restless unease in him. It felt like a trap dressed as comfort, but he was too weary to question anything. After all, the food would be here soon.
And like a man lulled by warmth and weariness, he drifted. Not quite asleep, not fully awake either; somewhere in between. Eyes shut. Mind clouded. Chest rising and falling like waves against a stony shore.
Some unmarked minute later.
The television now hummed low. The jazz from the movie had long faded, as the screen now flicker like a restless eye.
Outside, Nur Afiya had stilled; Isha(night prayer); had long past, the night; now crossing into that stranger hours when the world feels thinner.
Then.. a jolt. A pressure shot up in Jamal's spine.
Something stirred inside his underwear. Not accident. Deliberate. Fingers: slender, cold, soft.
His breath caught, as his eyes flew open.
And there was Almeida, face to face with him.
Too close. Four inches, maybe less. Bent over him, shoulder bare, her sleeveless top slipping past modesty. Her thigh pressed against the couch. And in her other hand dangled his tasbih: the prayer beads he had wore like armor, now stolen from his neck.
He thought it was a dream, until, the cold, sharp reality cut through. No dream ever felt this visceral. This was too real. His vision cleared slowly, as if emerging from a deep trance. "Almeida... Wh.." The rest of the word caught in his throat.
She withdrew her hand before he could finish, but her gaze held firm: steady, deliberate, utterly intentional.
Jamal forced the words out as he sat up, voice cracking, "...what are you doing? I thought you went for the food."
"You're awake," she whispered, her breath warm against his skin as her knee brushed his thigh. "I needed to warm the soup."
He shot upright, shoving her back. "I'm awake," he snapped, sarcasm cutting sharp. His heart hammered. Not from desire. Not even fear. But from the cold shock of someone once familiar; turning strange.
"What's come over you, Almeida?" he quipped, eyes narrowing. "You said you want the soup to warm, and your hand is in my underwear. Is that the kitchen?" He shook his head pitifully, voice thick. "Wallahi, I never expected this from you. This is ḥarām, and you know it."
She tilted her chin, unmoved. "Why are you pretending, Jamal? You want this more than I do and you know it." A faint, defiant smile touched her lips. "I felt how your body reacted when I touched you."
He scrubbed his face with his palm, as if he could wipe this moment away. "Don't twist this. That's not consent.. it's reflex. You don't get to pull me into your fantasy."
Her laugh was soft, bitter. "Fantasy? You're just afraid.."
"Afraid of Allah-yes." His voice grew clear, edged with irony. "Afraid of Jahannam(hell)-yes. But not of you. What you're after can't happen." He stretched out his hand. "If the food was a lie, give me my tasbih. I'm leaving."
Her smile sharpened as she stepped closer. "Isn't this food enough?" She hooked her finger under her top and tugged it lower, exposing bare skin. "We're alone, Jamal. No one will know. We've barely started anything, and you're already shaking. Just this once." She swung the tasbih lazily between her fingers and winked.
He reached for the beads, but she pulled them back, baiting him to lunge. He held still. He knew that trap.
Straightening, jaw tight, he said, "Understand this, Almeida. I see where this is headed, and it's wrong. I trusted you. Will you really trade Allah's trust for five minutes of pleasure?"
She rolled the beads in her palm as if they belonged to her. "Just once, Jamal. Allah will forgive this one. Give me what I want, and there'll be peace." Her hand slid toward his jallabiya, tugging at a button.
He slapped her hand away, pulse roaring.
"If not for my tasbih, I'd have left the moment I realized you're sick in the head."
Almeida only winked, tauntingly holding up the beads as if daring him to come get them.
He lunged forward but stopped just short of touching her. He understood her plot very well. That tasbih(prayer bead) was his most cherished possession after his Qur'an. A gift from his mother at his walimah, worn like spiritual armor ever since.
"Listen, Almeida." Jamal said, his voice unsettlingly calm. "You're only blinded by desire. Do you really think this is just about you and me?" He asked, raising a brow. "It isn't. It's about guarding the divine light Allah placed inside us, and growing up without letting the world's noise dim it, so we enter adulthood with our souls still pure." His tone deepened, carrying a prophetic weight. "Don't you know... There is more honor; and a greater reward from Allah, in this life and in Jannah.. in protecting your purity until marriage, than trading it for a moment's thrill or money."
He paused, studying her face.
Even as she stood exposed, she still listened intently, unnervingly focused.
He continued, eyes locked on hers.
"But think beyond tonight. What if one of us died in the act? What will I say to Allah? That i died during the same fornication he warned against? What would become of me then?" He shook his head, gaze steady. "And we're still too young to indulge in such acts. Do you really believe this would end with me if you went through with it today?" He scoffed softly. "Nope, It won't. It would only lead you from one person to the next, and to the next, until the divine light within you shatters completely. And the path of purity you were meant to walk; to fulfill your divine purpose early in life, drowns in the fog of a broken world."
He let the silence linger for a moment before continuing. "As for me, I know who I am: a follower of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ. I will guard my sacredness until I am worthy of a blessed union." A soft, knowing smile touched his lips. "Yes, Allah forgives. But should we willingly run toward sin when we know the full weight of its consequences? Especially when we also know the profound reward for those who guard their chastity. This is written clearly in His books... both the Qur'an and the Christian Bible."
His expression settled into a quiet resolve, as if giving voice to a truth long held within. "Remember... when the time is right, Allah will guide you to the union meant for you. That time has not yet come, for we are still too young to build a life together or shoulder the responsibility of marriage." He let the words settle gently between them. "Marriage is the sacred foundation for this intimacy you're jumping at, as Allah has decreed. So we wait. We tread carefully, and we trust in His timing."
Jamal thought his words might calm her. But what came next struck him to the marrow.
Her voice lowered, like velvet wrapped around a blade. "If you keep refusing me, I'll scream. I'll say you forced yourself on me." And in one sharp motion, she gripped her top and tore it, baring her upper part. "I'll tell everyone you ripped my clothes when I said no."
Jamal's chest tightened at her last word. The truth occured to him clearly now. This was no mere seduction, but pure cruelty. A betrayal clearly planned.
"What?!" he gasped. "Me? How?" His voice frayed at the edges. "Why are you doing this, Almeida?" he muttered, the question edged with a low, pitiful tone. "So, i've been advising the wind ever since?" The words were rhetorical, desperate. "If this is a prank, end it now. And If it's a jinn possessing you, then fight it." His hand trembled as he reached for the couch, his eyes burning with disbelief. "I took you as family. Look how you misuse the privilege."
He snatched a pillowcase from the couch and flung it at her. A desperate attempt to cover the body part she'd bared. Anything to shield his own crumbling restraint. "Just give me my tasbih and let me go. Why hold onto another man's possession so stubbornly? when you're not pharaoh."
Almeida stepped closer, clutching the beads with slow, deliberate ease. Her movements were steadier now, almost rehearsed. Jamal flinched, his heart hammering.
She lifted the tasbih just a fraction farther, baiting him. "Here you go'ooo..." She drawled, stretching the word like a dare. Her eyes glittering with mischief. She shrugged off the pillowcase and stood bare once more. "You say it's because we're like family?" she scoffed. "Stop pretending Jamal, It's all lie. I know my brothers, and my brothers know me. Look, we could be together forever if you wanted. Why can't we have this just once? No one would ever know."
A scorching heat climbed Jamal's spine. Something like; shame, fear, and disbelief coiling into a wordless knot. "No one would ever know?"he whispered. "But Allah knows. Isn't that fear enough?" He lifted both palms, surrendering them to the unseen. "Who's to say one moment of lust won't derail a lifetime's journey? Or Redirect what Allah has written for us?"
He forced a faint, sorrowful smile. "It's not in my hands, Almeida. And besides..." His gaze flicked toward the kitchen. "Shouldn't the food you left be burning by now?" He shook his head. "I see it now. This was your plan all along." He paced to and fro, tapping his forehead. "I don't even know where your sisters are. Who'll save me from this madness?" He paused, his eyes scanning her from head to toe as she stood unmoved. "Do you think your mother would be happy with this?" His voice cracked against the walls. "Give me my tasbih. Now, or I'l..."
At that moment, the door swung open, and Jamal's gaze swept toward it.
Mariyah stepped in first, her eyes scanning the dimly lit room. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice sharp.
Jamila followed, confusion etched across her face. "What's happening? I kept hearing voices... I couldn't even concentrate on my phone."
A wave of relief washed over Jamal upon sighting them. "Please, come to my rescue," he pleaded, his voice shaking. "It's Almeida." He gestured toward her barely veiled body. "I don't think she's herself anymore!"
Almeida remained composed. Unbothered by her state, her body scarcely covered by the black bum short.
Mariyah stepped forward rhythmically, her gaze flicking between them, and for a moment, Jamal thought he saw something shift in her eyes. Maybe this is it, he thought. Maybe they'll finally see. Maybe she's the savior he's been praying for.
But instead, Jamila closed the door softly behind her.
Mariyah sighed and moved closer to Jamal. "You're overreacting, Jamal. It's not like we're strangers here."
He dug a finger into his ear, scratching hard. Had he heard her correctly? "Overreacting?" He feigned surprise. "Is that what this is to you?"
"Don't act like you don't feel things too," Mariyah protested, circling the couch and tugging at his jallabiya. "You're not a robot. Moreover.."
"I'm not a robot?" Jamal cut in, flipping her hand away. "Does that mean I can't make my own decisions? What has come over you all?" he retorted bitterly.
"You stayed," Jamila pressed, snapping him back to reality. "It's something you'll enjoy too. Let's just cut through the chase. You knew this was the plan all along."
What!? What plan? His brow shot up. Even Jamila? The thought ricocheted through his mind as his eyes darted between the three of them. The confusion twisting tighter in his chest.
Then the truth struck him, sharp and merciless.
This wasn't Almeida's idea alone.
The lingering glances during the movie, the teasing, the strange coordination... it all clicked into place now. This was their plan all along on. All three of them were in on it. Had he become so vulnerable that they thought they could simply have him at their will?
He stepped back, fists clenching at his sides. "But you... you invited me for food."
Almeida laughed, a cold, sharp sound. "And I offered you... something better." She gestured dismissively at her exposed body, her expression a clear dare. "Isn't this what you really wanted? Isn't this food enough?"
A silent scream for escape tore through Jamal's soul. No hunger could justify this; no loneliness could excuse it.
And in the void that followed, Mariyah's tone shifted. The flirtation vanished, the teasing fell away, replaced by pure, calculated ice.
"If you don't want us to scream rape," she said, each word slow and deliberate, "and spread it through every corner of Nur Afiya that you came here to defile Almeida..." Her eyes swept down his body, then back up, sharp as a blade. "...then you must sleep with the three of us tonight."
Jamal's eyes widened. 'Defile.' 'Must.' Had he heard her correctly? The words struck him like a slap. He blinked, feeling dazed. This couldn't be real. He had thought they were the help Allah had sent, yet they all wanted the same thing.
"Are you serious?" he rasped, his voice adrift in a fog of disbelief.
"Of course." Mariyah retorted. Her voice stern and unfamiliar, stripped of all its former playfulness. "Is anyone smiling here?"
Jamal's gaze darted from Mariyah's cold stare to Jamila's silent compliance, to Almeida's unnerving calm.
No one was laughing.
They can't be serious... can they?
His mouth went dry. His throat; tightening as if the very air had conspired against him. He looked at Almeida... the girl he had placed on a pedestal for years, convinced she was incapable of such harm. Now, that illusion lay shattered at his feet.
How did we get here? Is it because I have no one else to run to? Or because they thought I was safe enough to prey on? He thought to himself.
His eyes burned, not with tears, but with something deeper: the scorched earth of shock, fury, and total heartbreak.
"So... what say you?" Almeida's quipped. Her voice; jolting him back to the present.
He remained silent, his fingers clenching at his sides, legs coiled with tension.
His eyes swept across the dimly lit corners of the room; before darting to the door, where Jamila stood posted like a bouncer, blocking his only escape route.
Finally, his gaze returned to Almeida: bare, smirking, the stolen tasbih still looped around her wrist like a perverse trophy. The very beads that had been the alibi for keeping him there, until everything spiraled into this.
His pulse thrummed in his ears. Three of them. All eyes fixed on him. Every angle cornered. No way out.
"Ya Allah," he whispered, the words barely audible. "You saved Yusuf. Now save me."
He let out a heavy sigh and turned his gaze toward Jamila. "Okay. Fine," he said finally. "If we're doing this..." A faint, calculated smile touched his lips. "Then we start with Jamila... since she's the youngest."
"Me?" Jamila scoffed. She turned and bolted the door before looking toward Mariyah, who merely shrugged. "I knew it!" she exclaimed, a triumphant smile spreading across her face as she moved toward the center of the parlor.. the very stage of the scandal. "I knew Jamal had a thing for me all along. He was just pretending."
Almeida let out a sharp, sarcastic laugh. "I thought you were holier than Isa himself. Guess all it takes is a little pressure to make you break."
Jamal only raised a brow, stunned by her words. Is this the same Almeida I trusted? She had shed her familiar skin tonight, revealing someone entirely foreign.
He turned to Mariyah. "Are we doing this or not?"
Mariyah glanced at Jamila, who was now steps away from them. "Make it snappy. Can't you see my boy is all ready?"
But as Jamila drew closer, her fingers moving toward her hijab, Jamal burst into motion. He dashed past her like a gust of wind.
"Wallahi, Jamal! Come back here!" Mariyah shouted as Jamal unbolted the door with frantic speed, slamming it open with a force that shook two picture frames from the wall. And then he was gone... swallowed by the strangely dark night of Nur Afiya, vanishing into the unknown. Left behind was only his tasbih, still wrapped around Almeida's wrist, glowing like a stolen relic.
Moments after his escape, Almeida's mother entered with a stern look. "Why did Jamal run past me like he's being chased by demons?" she demanded, her voice sharp with anger.
A stark, heavy silence answered her.
The three girls averted their gaze, studiously looking anywhere but her direction.