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'Summer Breeze' - SF9

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It was after college. Zayn was getting ready to meet Syra at the mall. He was standing in front of his wardrobe, debating on what to wear. Yes - the same person who wouldn't even look twice in the mirror after pulling out some random shit. He barely wore jeans - the boys in London didn't seem to know what they were - unless there was a special occasion. He only owned hoodies and T shirt and bottoms - but he had a nice range of those so his fashion sense wasn't so shit.

In the end he opted for a black Balenciaga hoodie with light blue jeans, and his black Adidas zx flux with the smoke design on them. He even switched up his jewellery - his normal chain replaced by a thicker base choker chain, matching bracelet one on hand and the monogrammed bracelet on the other. He decided to keep his plain silver rings on. On his left hand he wore one on his middle finger and one on his pinky. On his right he wore one on his index finger and one on his ring finger. When he got married, he planned to switch them around so he wore his wedding ring on his ring finger on his left hand - but no one needed to know that.

Now for his hair. Normally he just rubbed in some leave in conditioner and mussed it up, but this time he combed it back, still keeping it a bit messy with a few strands here and there, like the signature Zayn Malik style with the one strand in his face. He rubbed on some nice smelling beard conditioner too. He shaped up his beard every day anyways - it grew so quick.

He wasn't one of those boys who thought doing skincare was gay - his mum gave them all cleansers, moisturisers and sunscreen - but that's where he drew the line; his skin was fine he didn't need no sticky shit on his face for fifteen minutes. A quick spritz of cologne and he set off downstairs to go wear his shoes, not before grabbing his wallet and lighter. He looked at his dirt bike keys longingly.

"Well well well. Itni tayaari kiske liye?" asked Ammi after she saw him putting on his shoes. (So much preparation for who?)

Great. He was trying to quickly leave to avoid confrontation. He was out all day alone or at his thingy so his parents didn't get to question him but it had been a while since he went out dressed properly. He definitely wasn't going to admit the truth, however.

"Just to meet someone. Nothing special," he replied. Yeah right, he scoffed mentally.

"Well I assume it's no girl as you so vehemently rejected the idea of getting married young before." said Aboo.

"Umm, yeah," he said, unsure. Before he'd scoffed at the idea of love - he imagined settling down with a decent woman in the future but now he only saw Syra. And he knew the only way to keep her in his life was the proper way, the halal way. (Permissible).

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Zayn exited the bus which stopped just a few shops ahead of the mall he was going to meet Syra. He saw her walking down just as he got off. She wore a navy silk slip dress, reaching her ankles with a black shirt underneath, along with her signature black scarf. She wore laced up black ankle boots and a shoulder bag. Ma Sha Allah, he thought. They met each other at the entrance.

"Salam," she greeted, smiling, pulling his gaze down to the curve of her luscious lips, the pointy cupids bow.

"Walaikumasalam. You look... really good," he answered. She looked way more than just really good but he didn't want to scare her off.

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