The Untainted
Chapter 30– Lines That Cross
The get-together ended on a calm note.
At least… on the surface.
Laughter had filled the living room. Plates clinked. Polite exchanges were made. Du'as were offered. But beneath it all, something tense pulsed quietly — especially whenever certain gazes collided.
Basit.
Qazeem.
Farouk.
They had tried. Truly.
No raised voices. No childish comments. No open confrontation.
But their eyes?
Their eyes betrayed them.
The heat in those silent exchanges did not go unnoticed.
Some guests whispered discreetly,
"It seems Rihannat's godbrother doesn't like Basit."
Others — the older, more experienced ones — exchanged knowing glances.
Ah. A triangle.
Then Qazeem dropped it.
On behalf of his parents, he formally invited Rihannat's family for a dinner visit to their home.
A welcoming dinner.
A proper one.
Not casual.
Intentional.
Most people in the room already knew whispers of it — so it didn't cause chaos.
But for Basit?
It was news.
Fresh.
Heavy.
And for Balkis, it was confirmation of something she had hoped wasn't true.
"So it's true…" she had muttered under her breath.
Faridat, sensing the shift in her brother's aura, began to say, "I really don't like where this is going, it's like—"
She stopped mid-sentence when she saw Basit's expression.
The words died on her tongue.
She felt bad for him.
Ridwan leaned toward Basit quietly. "Why do I feel strong rejection vibes from both brothers toward you? Are they truly just brothers?"
Basit didn't answer.
Because his mind was louder than any conversation around him.
Godbrother.
A formal family dinner.
Welcoming dine.
It sounded too structured.
Too serious.
They left for Maghrib prayer at the nearest mosque before heading home.
Inside the mosque, the world shrank.
The noise in his head softened.
The carpet beneath his forehead felt grounding.
In sujood, his heart spoke what his lips could barely form.
She was the du'a.
She had been for months.
"Ya Allah… if Rihannat is meant for me, she will surely be mine."
His voice trembled softly within his chest.
"Ya Robbi, make it easy for me and for her. And if she is not written as my companion in this life… take her love from my heart without causing me pain."
That last part almost broke him.
But he meant it.
Later that night, during tahajjud, the prayer left his soul exposed and honest.
He would not fight Qazeem.
He would not compete recklessly.
He would not force destiny.
He would hold onto Allah.
Because love without tawakkul becomes desperation.
And he refused to let it turn into that.
Meanwhile…
Balkis paced her room.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Her phone was clutched tightly in her hand.
Her conscience whispered,
Don't do it.
But another voice argued,
If you don't act now, you'll lose control of everything.
Her fingers trembled.
She typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
Paused.
Then finally —
Sent.
The message left her screen and traveled into the unknown.
Her breathing became shallow.
"Forgive me," she whispered to no one in particular.
But whether she meant Allah, Rihannat, or herself… she didn't even know.
At Basit's House
"Ridwan, wait!"
Faridat hurried after him just as he was about to open his car door. Basit had already gone inside without a word.
The evening air felt heavy between them.
"Dad and Mom aren't home," she began softly. "Can't you stay for a while? You can see Basit isn't himself."
Ridwan avoided her gaze.
"I… I can't. I need to be somewhere."
She stepped closer.
"Why have you been avoiding me?"
His heart skipped.
She noticed.
"You don't even come inside anymore. Before the holidays, whenever you saw me with Basit at school, you would turn around. Did I offend you somehow? Because I genuinely don't understand."
He swallowed.
"I'm not avoiding you, Faridat. A lot has been going on."
"And now school has vacated," she pressed gently. "Are you still… busy?"
He still wasn't looking at her.
That hurt more than his words.
"No," he exhaled. "I'm not avoiding you. I just… haven't figured out what's going on in my mind. Please. Give me some time."
And before she could respond, he walked away.
She stood there, watching the tail lights disappear.
Throughout the entire conversation, he hadn't looked at her eyes once.
Not once.
"What is going on?" she whispered to herself. "Is this another version of Ridwan?"
Her frustration lacked anger.
It carried hurt instead.
Inside the house, the silence felt too loud.
Not wanting to disturb Basit — who had locked himself in his room — and having no one else to speak to, she went to her sanctuary.
Her drawing room.
The space that smelled of paper, graphite, and dreams.
As an architect in training, like her mother, she had a separate room dedicated to her sketches and models. Her mother's studio stood opposite hers — a quiet symbol of legacy.
She sat at her desk.
Opened her sketchpad.
And began to draw.
At first, the lines were straight.
Controlled.
But gradually, they began to curve, overlap, cross each other.
Messy.
Complicated.
Unresolved.
Just like her thoughts.
Why was Ridwan pulling away?
Why was Basit hurting silently?
Why did Qazeem's presence feel heavier than it should?
And why did everything suddenly feel like it was moving too fast?
Her pencil pressed harder.
A sharp line tore through the page.
She paused.
Exhaled.
Maybe life wasn't about straight lines.
Maybe it was about intersections.
Where feelings collide.
Where intentions cross.
Where decisions change direction.
That night, three different hearts lay awake.
Basit — surrendering his love to Allah.
Ridwan — running from emotions he hadn't named yet.
Balkis — waiting anxiously for a reply to the message she had sent.
And somewhere, quietly unaware of the storm forming around her…
Rihannat slept peacefully.
Or at least, she tried to.
********>>>>>>>>
What message did Balkis send?
Why is Ridwan truly avoiding Faridat?
And will the upcoming family dinner solidify something… or shatter it completely?