His Hafizah and her Hafiz

His Standards

"Whoever seeks the pleasure of Allah by the displeasure of people, Allah will suffice him against the people. Whoever seeks the pleasure of people by the displeasure of Allah, Allah will leave him to the patronage of people." -- Prophet Muhammad.

***This is a continuation from Abu Hurairah and Safoora's POV, from their previous chapter 'Confusion'.

Abu Hurairah POV:

Life was just hollow and empty.

There was nothing interesting. 

Like a living corpse, I just moved on with the beat of the hour. 

It was just a continous trip back and forth from university to home, but home was a place where I could enjoy with my friends like a booze, a form of alcoholic numbness to the brain. A toxic freedom. 

However, everything had crashed down now since Safoora had implemented her stupid ground rules, even that tiny pleasure of freedom to the heart was snatched away. How annoying could she get? I mean literally all I've ever asked her was to mind her own freaking business and stay away when my friends were over... I guess some people just can't respect other's needs and wants.

"Why do you let Safoora wear that thing?" Paxton pestered for the third time. We were all again sitting in my living room having a civil conversation... or maybe not that civil. Due to Safoora's annoying Paxton phobia, I had promised myself that I'd kick him out as soon as Safoora set her foot in the house. Her daily annoying tantrum was getting very irritating now, out of hand, I didn't even understand how Knox saw her point and rooted for her out of all people in the world. All I wanted was to play a fair game with her, nothing more-- she does whatever she wants and I do whatever I desire without crossing each other's paths.

"Ray, snap out of it!" Paxton snapped his fingers in front of my face.

"Huh?" My deep trance of thoughts broke and my attention was now full back on him. 

"Why do you let her cover her face? I mean... her entire self to be exact." Paxton repeated, leaning his head on his propped up elbow as he sat on the couch next to me waiting for an explanation.

I scowled. "I don't let her. She wants to and does it. That's really not my business!"

Paxton raised his brows, "She's your so called 'wife', a woman who marks your reputation. Most Muslim girls just shove on a piece of cloth on their hair and that's all, does anything happen to them? Nope. Many just cover their hair and that's literally all, wearing tights and a shirts--"

I rolled my eyes with an annoyed grunt, "Dude just... she deserves to dress however she wants."

"You're her husband, Ray. How she dresses does mark your reputation. Do you force her?" Hexley asked, wearily running his hand through his white and red dyed hair.

"Of course not, she's her ownself. She dresses however she want." I growled with a frown, slipping my hand through my tousled raven hair. Why did they care about her anyway?

"There is more hatred from society for those girls who cover too much." Paxton sighed heavily, "Don't you think... she does too much? I mean what's the point of all that-- "

"Bro, just leave it." I mumbled emptily. One thing I feared about Paxton was that he was very good at convincing his part of the debate and at the end you were forced to fall for his argumented point.

"I am just watching out for you." Paxton answered sincerely. "Safoora is just too mad, crazy and aggressive. How do you put up with her anyway?"