Ch-7 (Mis)understandings

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       In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

'Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon our beloved Prophet and Master Muhammad (s.a.s), all his blessed descendents and noble companions.'

- Aameen.

Chapter Seven

(Mis)understandings

London, U.K.

There was a knock on the door. Sophia paused in her packing.

"Come in!" she said without turning. "I'll give a call, please book me a cab for the –"

"Sophia!" said the voice softly.

She turned towards him, her heart thumping in sudden joy.

"I thought you had left," George said with an unsteady smile. It did not reach his eyes as they gazed at her almost pleadingly.

"What do you want George?" she asked quietly. Her face looked tired with a bare hint of makeup; her usual reserved mask was not in place as her eyes seemed to tell him so many things and he was unprepared, so unable to decipher what she was saying.

He came forward despite himself, "That's the first time you've called my name, now when you're leaving..."

"Why have you come?"

"I don't know," he shook the blond head. "I thought you'll tell... why you have such a hold over me,"

Sophia's lips curved slightly. "Because I was the first woman to refuse your advances?"

He laughed, but it was a bitter note. "So that's the attraction?"

"And it will disappear when we get together?" he came closer and Sophia was forced to move back.

"Won't it?" her heart dipped at his harsh tone yet she gazed back at him fearlessly. "We've nothing in common to keep us tied and I don't do casual things."

"You could have at least given a try, given me a chance to show that I," he swallowed and her eyes fell on his nervous throat, "...can be sincere too."

She moved away abruptly, her movements jerky as she tried to finish her packing.

He stood there, fighting the feeling of stupidity, of rushing anger, of crushing hopelessness... he wanted to touch her, to ... but George knew she won't welcome it. His hands clenched and unclenched, he gazed around the room and saw the wilting flowers that he had sent.

"Sophia," was it his voice that begged? George wondered dully.

"I have nothing to say or give to you, wasn't my meaning clear? That's what I've been telling you these past days. Will you leave now?" she stopped her unsteady movements, forcing to gaze back at him. She regretted the next moment seeing his fierce expression.

"No godda** it," he swore softly despite himself. "I won't go now. Not until you say you give me a chance to prove!"

"Prove what?" her face slipped on the mask yet her voice was soft.

"That we could be together," he said so low as if afraid that she would refute his words.

"I'm leaving soon," she pointed out, disregarding his intense statement.

"I can come there," he said and added, "I will."

She slowly sat down on the couch, her eyes searching his face for this sincerity. "Isn't this better? That we go our separate ways?"

"Why are you so afraid?" he sat down on the chair opposite her. "I won't... I won't hurt you," he promised seeing the mask fall and her eyes flashed,

"Don't make promises that get broken," she blinked, wrapping her arms around her stomach to stop the swirling mess of feelings inside. "Do you see anything common between us?"

"We work –"

"Not professionally," Sophia sighed tightening her arms, digging the nails at her sides. Yes, now with some physical pain her softening mind could see beyond his handsome appearance and persuasive words. "Religion is one of my main standards. I believe in God... do you?"

He remained silent, his eyes eloquent in their derision.

"I abhor what you freely indulge in," she continued, hinting at his sexual escapades and he flinched visibly.

"You seem to understand me well," he said his manner turning cold.

"I'm sorry; it's the truth isn't it? To you, every woman is a catch,"

"Let me correct you," he drawled, flashing a brilliant fake smile. "Not every woman, only the beautiful ones."

Sophia stood up, and felt her body tremble. "Now that we are clear and know that this won't work out, will you leave?"

He sprang up, reaching out a hand as if to touch and assure that she was for real. "Now that we are clear and know that you are so good and pure, keeps to morals and ethics in this century, especially in our work ... should I call you a prude or just pathetic?"

"Go, please," she shuddered at his unkindness trying to keep her breathing normal.  And she knew that he was trying his best to hurt her.

George was already at the door; he opened it with unnecessary force then stood in turmoil, unable to move.

"I'm sorry," his voice was quiet, all the harshness gone. 

He looked back against himself but her face was turned away, George dragged himself out hurrying away, an unusually bleak expression settling on his attractive features.

Moments later when the floor-attendant entered the open door, she found Sophia sitting curled up on the couch, knees pressed to her forehead.

She raised a white face with dry burning eyes, "Will you call a cab, please? I must go to the airport soon."

***

A/N :)

The next would be an update of IHL of course, in shaa Allaahu ta 'Ala.

Both these, IHL and FOL would intermingle each other, read accordingly.

Jazak Allaahu khair.

With Duas and Salaam,

abdurRahman.


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