A Diamond In Islam: A Romance Novel

by S. Nahar

  I can’t do this. I can’t tell him.

  It would only cause Damon more pain in the end realizing that we couldn’t be together. I wasn’t stupid to believe that we could be together just because I liked him. It felt like a knife stabbed me in my chest, a familiar pricking of a tragic love story too soon to take flight.

  Our mutual affections were like clouds on a stormy day, reckoning chaos everywhere it went, and not caring whose lives would be spared. It was dangerous, vigorous, and most of all, breathless to be a part of until it ended, and all that was left were the fragmented pieces of a once secured heart under locks.

  With a shaky hand, I picked up my phone. I didn’t want to hurt Damon. I couldn’t let myself do that to him. Each word caused a swelling of grief on my wounded heart.

  Me: Damon u shouldn’t like me.

  Damon: Don’t u get it? It’s feelings and not an object that’s easily gone. I really like u Amira. I’m serious.

  His words made me feel even guiltier.

  Me: We can’t be together. I can’t date u.

  Damon: I know.

  Me: Y do u like me? I’m not hot or pretty.

  I felt regret staple itself to me, biting my nails nervously as I waited for his response.

  Damon: Ur right, ur not pretty.

  Ouch. He didn’t have to be so blunt.

  Me: I know.

  Damon: Ur beautiful. That girl I was talking about, was u.

  The butterflies in my stomach grew stronger for calling me ‘beautiful.’ Not hot or sexy, but beautiful. I stared in awe at my screen. For a high school guy, calling a girl ‘beautiful’ was a whole new ball game, a new uncharted territory.

  Me: Y are u telling me this?

  Damon: Because I needed u to know. I can’t keep these feeling inside anymore.

  I bit my lip. I had to stop this thing with Damon before one of us got seriously hurt. Allah came first. Just because I had a crush on him didn’t mean that I should disobey Allah, and secretly be with him, but that thought alone didn’t stop my scandalous imagination.

  My fingers typed on their own accord, desperate to know why Damon felt the need to tell me. There was more to the story, but he kept it hidden and locked like he was afraid of fully trusting me. He guarded himself carefully, and the more that he slowly opened up to me, the more I pushed against his defenses.

  Me: That doesn’t explain why. U know we can’t be together. U know that there is no future for us, so why even confess?

  I tried my best to be harsh, to repel him from like I was a flame sent to burn his skin. If I could keep him at arm’s length, then I wouldn’t have to worry about disobeying Allah or following through with my desires.

  Damon: I’m not sure.

  Me: People don’t spontaneously confess.

  Damon: Y can’t you just accept my feelings without question? Y does it have to be a reason for me to like u?

  Me: Because I know you, Damon. You don’t trust easily. You’re weary of me. You’re afraid to love anyone because you don’t want to be like your mom where you forgive everything for the sake of love. I know you, and I know there’s more to all this.

  He was silent for a moment, letting the words sink in before the typing resumed.

  Damon: U really do pay attention to my stories.

  Me: We are friends.

  Damon: I’m not sure if I want to be ‘just friends’ anymore.

  My cheeks heated in a blushing ember, burning up to my ears. The sizzling sensation on my face refused to cease. His effect on me was unmatched. It was solely Damon’s ability to make me stumble over my words and to worry for him whenever something went wrong in his household.

  Me: What?

  Damon: The real reason I had to tell u was because it felt wrong to hide how I felt. Don’t ask me why, but for some reason, u appealed to me. U were there for me when no one else was. U stood by me even when I was a complete ass. When I needed comfort, u were there, Amira.

  Me: U needed someone. That’s y.

  Damon: I needed someone when Luqmaan allowed his friends to jump me, but he wasn’t ever there for me like u are.

  Me: I’m not him.

  Damon: I know.

  Me: Then y do u keep bringing him up?

  Damon: Sometimes I can’t help but compare. I still don’t understand why u two are so different but follow the same religion. Maybe that’s why I like u. Ur different from other Muslims.

  I began to feel slightly annoyed. He still compared me, and believed that I was what the media labeled “terrorists.”

  Me: Damon, u can’t claim to like me, and then compare me to a guy who physically and mentally scarred u. He and I might share the same religion, but we are two different people. Not all Muslims are the same. They are people just like u and me. They’re capable of their own mistakes.

  Damon: I know. It’s just that, it still hurts sometimes. I told u that I trusted u, but I’m afraid to be hurt by u or betrayed in the same way.

  He kept bringing up betrayal, yet I had no idea what had happened. All I knew was that Luqmaan and his friends fought with Damon at his previous school, and no other details were given. Only Damon and Luqmaan knew what happened that day, and Luqmaan was expelled according to the rumors.

  Me: What did Luqmaan do? U keep bringing up this betrayal, but u never say what it is?

  Damon: He jumped me.

  Me: Why?

  Damon: Because he was using me the whole time. Luqmaan didn’t care for our friendship. He needed the connections that I had, the bad connections I had to be exact. When I refused to keep his little business going, he planned for an attack.

  Me: He didn’t hold onto ur friendship. That hurt the most, didn’t it?

  Damon: Yeah, it did. I had put everything into our friendship, stood by him through every type of trouble, yet he left me when I needed him the most, and he never looked back.

  Me: What happened to him afterwards?

  Damon: Expelled. Never saw him again.

  That confirmed the rumors. I felt sympathy toward Damon. This one Muslim had completely deterred Damon away from the Muslim community. This one man’s action shattered his perception of an entire religion, making him more vulnerable to the misconceptions that the media had fed.

  Damon knew that not all Muslims were horrible, but the stigma was deeply rooted in him, planting its seeds right where his wound opened. The root of his problems was the trauma of a heartbreaking betrayal. No amount of physical pain could hurt more than losing his best friend.

  Damon: Amira, ur more than my best friend. Ur a girl who I can’t live without. I don’t even care about our differences; I just need u in my life. There’s so much shit going on, and if I lost u too, I don’t think I could ever trust anyone again.

  Me: Damon, u can’t like me. We discussed this.

  Damon: I want to learn about the real Islam. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t want to keep doing this to u.

  He was tortured by the past, trapped by it in every way where he was chained to his memories. Damon was a prisoner to himself. In a way, we weren’t that different. I, like him, was also trapped by the vortex of time.

  Me: Then maybe u should start by opening ur mind.

  Chapter 22

  Awakening of Inquires

  Damon Winters

  I desperately wanted to tell her. I wanted Amira to know how badly she made me want her, how her smile brightened up my day and how her eyes seemed to beg me to hold her and lavish her. She was too irresistible.

  I sighed as I leaned back against my headboard. She was a Muslim and I was an atheist. She couldn’t have a date with me.

  Religion had no meaning to me; especially that I found the idea of a religion stupid to begin with. My parents weren’t religious either and I had never grown attached to the idea of God or spirituality. I preferred to live in the moment, in the absence of all chains of restrictions that religion imposed on helpless souls.

  Islam had always been a religion I was w
eary of, unsure how anyone could follow a religion where terrorism reigned like a second nature, where anger overtook humanity. How Amira became a part of that religion, I had no idea.

  Me: Why does Islam allow terrorism? Why are u part of such an oppressed religion?

  Amira: Islam doesn’t allow terrorism. Islam is totally against it. Also, women are not oppressed. I speak from experience.

  Me: Doesn’t jihad mean terrorize? And how are women not oppressed?

  Muslim women had to cover everything, hidden by layers of clothes in order to oppress them from society, keeping them away from basic social interactions. It was saddening to see. They didn’t even get to marry four husbands unlike their male counterparts. That wasn’t even fair.

  Amira: Jihad means struggle like this is my jihad right here. It’s my jihad (struggle) against ignorance. There r some Muslims that twist up the truth for their own advantages just like in any other religion. It’s not just Islam that has people like that. There are a lot of serial killers that are from other religions, but they get to hate like Muslims do because they are told they have mental illnesses. That’s the same with the other terrorists. Some have mental problems while others just use religion to cover crimes.

  Me: I see ur point but u still didn’t answer y women aren’t allowed to have multiple husbands, but men are? Islam sounds like a religion that only fulfills men’s need. It’s filthy.

  As I sent the message, I felt a little bit of fear in the pit of my stomach. If there was one thing that I learned about Amira, it was that I should never underestimate her knowledge. Why did I have a feeling that she’s about to put me to shame? Considering how long it was taking her to type this I knew that I was doomed.

  Amira: Damon, don’t say anything about a religion if u don’t understand it. When learning about Islam, don’t listen to the crap that the media says cause there is a lot of falsehood behind their words.

  Secondly, in Islam, it is believed that women and men have different roles that they fulfill. Men are the protectors and sustainers of women. Their role is to provide and protect their families. Women are the ones who help raise her family, and support them. She also is the one that keeps her husband in check from doing wrong as her husband does the same for her. Men and women are like puzzle pieces that fit together to create a loving family.

  Since men are the protectors and sustainers of women, how can a woman fulfill that role if she marries more than one man? That creates more stress for her. As for men, it says specifically in the Qur’an that if the man is not capable of taking care of another women, yet he still decides to marry a second wife and is bad at taking care of his wives, Allah will punish him because Allah warns us in the Qur’an about it. You don’t believe me? Check Surah #4 A Nisa is about women and men’s rights.

  She totally just won this debate, but I was not about to admit that.

  Me: But still...

  Amira: Actually, a lot of girls convert to Islam compared to men. They’re not oppressed and if they were these women, wouldn’t be converting. Also, Islam limits the number of wives one can have while other religions don’t.

  Me: Really? I didn’t know that.

  Amira: It’s true.

  Me: And u wonder y I like u so much;)

  Amira was quickly becoming so much more to me. I never felt so affected by a girl, especially one who didn’t show anyone her beauty. It was so unlikely of me, but Amira somehow crawled her way into my heart, breaking all my previous standards with a mere smile.

  Me: Do u like me?

  It was quiet for a while with no response from her.

  Amira: it’s complicated. Let’s just say that u don’t want to like me Damon. I don’t want to hurt u.

  Me: Ur gonna hurt me more if u don’t tell me.

  Amira: U won’t understand these feelings.

  Me: I could help u go through those feelings. Amira, what are u so afraid of?

  Amira: Of this. Damon please.

  I didn’t understand. Was she afraid of her feelings for me as well? It couldn’t be just due to religious differences. There were tons of people who dated outside the constraints of traditional beliefs.

  Me: Are u ashamed of me?

  Amira: No! It’s religion. I don’t know what to do right now. I don’t want to hurt anyone.

  My heart broke into tiny pieces, shattering around me in sharp shards. She didn’t want me like I thought. My chest felt tight, squeezing my heart, and making it beat out of rhythm.

  It was getting hard to breathe as I let the rejection set in. The girl that I thought was perfect didn’t want me. Why? She had to have liked me. She acted like she did. I was the first guy she ever texted, something she’d never done before. I was her first.

  Me: I just wanted to tell u I liked u. It’s okay if u don’t like me. We can still stay as friends. Nothing will change.

  Amira: No, Damon, that’s not it. It’s just I can’t like u. We can’t be together. I want to, but I can’t.

  If only she knew how much I wanted her. Surely, there had to be a way for us to be together. I couldn’t lose her. I couldn’t suffer the same fate as before.

  This time, I wouldn’t be able to survive another tragedy.

  Chapter 23

  Snow Drugged Emotions

  Damon Winters

  It was finally March. Sunlight poured from the sky, touching the soft ridges of branches that were covered in a blanket of snow. White specks of dust fluttered towards my window as I squinted my eyes on the road.

  The shimmering snow glittered, untouched and begging for attention. The air was frosty and freezing to the point that I could already see my breath, but nonetheless, was a sight for sore eyes. Bits of green peeked through their winter caps, a sleek glaze of white frosting the suburban roads as fur-lined coats populated the streets.

  Every time I stopped by a red light, I found myself admiring the crystal flakes that drifted with the wind, following a gentle wind through denuded trees. I found comfort in the soft bits of snow we had received, relishing the peace that came with a gentle storm.

  As I drove through lanes, all that was on my mind was Amira. I couldn’t get her out of my mind anymore. It was not just attraction toward her, but it was so much more. She wasn’t perfect, but she was perfect for me. Just like the flurries outside, Amira eased my worries away. She was the calm to my chaos.

  She was smart, sweet, caring, had strong morals, modest, and had the most beautiful eyes. A strong string pulled us toward each other, where everyone else became a blur. It was only Amira who consumed my thoughts and mind like a drug. I sighed. Oh Amira, you have no idea how much I want you, I thought.

  After parking my car, I walked to my locker before heading towards my first period class. As I walked into history, I saw Amira’s maroon colored head scarf elegantly wrapped around her head. Her fingers vigorously scribbled something down, her head bent low and face twisted in concentration. Without realizing, I walked toward her. She didn’t notice me as she was so engrossed into what she was writing.

  “Hey,” I said softly.

  Amira jumped and looked up at me. Her warm brown eyes looked so welcoming like they were beckoning me towards her, tempting me with an aching need to be loved. She quickly averted her eyes to the ground and muttered to herself.

  “So, what are you writing?” I asked as I leaned over her desk to look.

  Her body tensed, clenching her hands into fists. Breathing in deeply, she sighed, her long eyelashes covering the eyes that haunted me in my slumber. I couldn’t help but want to wrap my arms around her and pull her closer to my chest. I was just about to do that when my eyes landed on her writing, and I froze, suddenly catching every word.

  Whisper, whisper,

  In through the ears,

  Right to the heart,

  Quiet as can be,

  Lips that never tell,

  A fragile girl,

  Covered in another’s tale,

  Acts as if she is at ease,

 
; But it’s a lie,

  Worries surround her,

  Pain chases after her,

  She has no idea how to escape,

  Secrets cover her,

  Her soft lips seal them away,

  No one knows,

  What’s hidden inside.

  I stared at Amira in shock. She looked away from me, almost embarrassed at the pure masterpiece that she created. This girl in her poem reminded me of her. There were so many secrets to Amira that I had yet to discover. Could it be that Amira’s past was really rough? What were the secrets that she concealed so easily?

  “I know it’s pretty bad writing, but this is the way I escape from the troubles in life. This and praying,” she said with a faint smile that reached her eyes.

  “Bad? Are you nuts? This is heart touching, Amira. Why have you never shown me your writings before?”

  “I thought they weren’t that good,” she muttered.

  I chuckled deeply, and pulled out a chair next to her. “Sweetheart, you’re excellent at so many things. It’s one of the many reasons why I admire you.”

  She looked up at me, and gave me a breathtaking smile that made my heart stop. Her soft lips were tempting me to taste them. They were begging to be caressed by my lips and tongue. Her sun-kissed skin was making me clench my fists to refrain from pulling her head toward me, and smashing my lips against hers.

  Amira’s lips were moving, but I couldn’t pay attention to what she was saying. All I could think of was how she would feel against my body and how she tasted. I could already imagine her cuddled up next to me as we watched a movie or just talked.

  I wasn’t after Amira for sex. Something that other girls never could give me. It was the love and care she provided me with. She made me feel protected by her warmth. It felt as if I could do anything with her by my side. She made me feel euphoric. When she wasn’t around to talk with me, I felt restless and unable to function without her attention on me.

  I needed Amira in my life. Whoa, I thought. This girl hit me way too hard with shivers.