Crown Of Laws

Chapter 8: Temptation

This is beautiful....

   'He watches her, sees her and desires her'

___________

The soft, melodic call of Fajr prayer threads through the stillness of dawn, carrying into Hanan’s room. The call coming from the mosque in the palace grounds.  She groans lightly, stretching her limbs beneath the smooth cotton sheets, before rolling over to see Khalida still asleep, her face buried against the pillow.

“Lida,” Hanan murmurs, patting her friend’s shoulder. Khalida groans, swats lazily. "It's time for fajr Lida" Hanan reminds Khalida though she knows it'll be hard to wake up since she'd slept late but then Khalida blinks awake, her eyes adjusting to the pale light seeping through the curtains.

The two girls rise quietly. They take turns at the sink, performing their ablution, the cool water sliding over their skin and refreshing their senses. Hanan spreads out two crisp white prayer mats on the polished marble floor just as the door creaks open.

Sameera slips inside, a mat tucked under her arm. She says nothing, simply joins them. Side by side, they bow, rise, and lower their foreheads to the mat, their voices soft in whispered supplications.

It was almost like a routine and the girls felt nothing but peace at that moment.

When they finish, they remain seated, each taking turns reciting verses from the Qur’an. The cadence of their voices fills the room—soothing, grounding. When they close the mushaf, Khalida lifts her palms high.

“Ya Allah, grant me a billion dollars,” she declares dramatically.

'Kai Khalida and money' Hanan sighs internally.

Hanan and Sameera dissolve into laughter. Between their giggles, they chorus an “Ameen!”

They collapse onto the bed afterward "I'll have the middle" Sameera racing to claim a spot in the middle and plopping down with triumph. The three girls snuggle close, chatter fading, until sleep carries them away once again.

By the time the sun rises higher, the soft glow of morning fills the room. Hanan stirs first.
Lazy humans see how they are sleeping like dead fishes.

Her gaze drifts to Khalida and Sameera who are in weird sleeping positions and she almost clicks a picture to show Sameera who brags about 'Perfect princess sleep'

Hanan yawns, stretches her arms, and pads into the bathroom. The sound of water running follows as she showers, steam curling under the door.

When she emerges, her skin glistens, her hair swept into a neat bun. She slips into a fitted black sports bra, a t-shirt slipped to cover her body and grey joggers, then rolls her yoga mat out onto the balcony. The morning air is cool, carrying the faint scent of blooming hibiscus from the palace gardens.

Her phone plays a recording of Mufti Menk’s gentle voice, words of reflection weaving into the rhythm of her movements. She stretches, bends, breathes deeply, her body flowing through her morning practice. A faint trail of Bakhoor Oud Al Qasr drifts from the incense burner she left inside, mixing with the fresh morning air.

Halfway through, she pauses. The sensation prickles at her—a weight of eyes on her. She doesn’t turn, doesn’t flinch.

It's him.

This is more like a routine.

When she'd come to Makarfi Emirates a special
CCTV was always there.

Hanan doesn't falter Instead, she straightens with a small smile curving her lips and resumes with more vigor, stretching further, bending deeper.

No man is going to make her not act herself.