The drive to the unknown destination was quiet and very awkward. Nobody said anything. Imad stayed still, looking outside the window. I was texting my best friend — Hudaa. She freaked out when I told her who I was with.

Hudaa: I can't believe your going out with your boss. Is he cute up close?

Me: I am not going out with my boss, Imad insisted that he takes me. I wouldn't know, it's not like I stare at him.

Hudaa: Of course you don't stare, you're too shy. Instead you dream about him, so nobody knows your crushing on him. Admit it Layla...

Me: Oh please 🙄. Why do you have to be so immature?

Hudaa:Because your 24 and you're not yet married. That's like 40 in your mums eyes, she literally calls me everyday asking if Walid has a cousin who is looking for a wife.

Me: Seriously? My mum is something else.

Hudaa: Can you blame her? She only wants to see her grandchildren before her time comes. I don't know when you are going to decided to get married, but make it soon.

Me: Insha allah.

Hudaa:Talk to you later. Walid just came home.

Me: Say hi to my brother-in-law.

Hudaa:Okay, I will.😃

Me: Haha. Azhak Allah sinnak ❤️ (May Allah keep you cheerful).

Hudaa: Ameen.

I kept my phone in my bag, the car stopped. I suppose we have reached our destination. We were outside the Acadia, a five star rated restaurant. Imad looks at me and smiles. Not wanting him to see how nervous I am, I smile back. We got out of the car and I held Imad's hand — walking behind Mr Ahmed. The restaurant is so luxurious, I have only seen it on the television when they are advertising it. I never anticipated that I would actually eat here one day.

The waiter lead us to our table and Imad sat next to me, and Mr Ahmed sat across me. I tried to discreetly make myself comfortable on my seat. This can't be happening, I thought as I picked up the menu. Mr Ahmed ordered for our drinks without even asking us, so nice of him. He got Imad sparkling water, as if a six year old knows what that is and for me a Pepsi. I hate Pepsi. He also ordered sparkling water for himself. I mean how is it even possible to be so ignorant? A tall lady, wearing a tight black dress with black strapped heals, came over our table. Her Natural blonde curls bounced as she walked, she had shocking blue eyes - that anybody could notice from a far.

"Mr Ahmed it's nice to see you again," she spoke, flaunting her British accent. He didn't even look at her, until I cleared my throat.

"What is it Amanda?" He spoke in a croaky tone.

"I just came to say hello. We still do have that meeting on Monday don't we?" She spoke and then smiling at him. "Oh what a cute little boy." She bent down kissed Imad on the cheek, leaving a red imprint of her lips on his cheek. She then turned to me and glanced at me - she didn't smile at me, nor did I.

"Yes we do," he said not even looking at her.

Amanda finally walked away. Do you know how curious I was to find out who she is... Mr Ahmed's personal life is a secret to even his relatives. I took out a tissue from my bag and wiped Imad's cheek, it annoyed me. He whispered in my ear that he was so bored and wanted to go home. I looked at Mr Ahmed and I gulped.

"Uncle Ahmed do you know how to play Soccer?" Imad asked abruptly. He looked up from his phone and looked at Imad.

"Yes I do," he replied.

"My favorite player is Messi. You know him?"

"Yes I know him," he replied barely paying attention.

"Did you play soccer with my dad? Uncle Talal told me my dad was the best soccer play in the family," Imad said. Mr Ahmed remained quiet, I am sure he didn't expect this.

"That's enough questions for today. Why don't you play on your ipad," I told him and removed his ipad from my bag. After a while the drinks arrived along with the food, he had already ordered for the food too. I so badly wanted to take a picture of the food, it looked so good. I just wanted to show Hudaa, she loves seafood. But I immediately removed that thought from my mind. I am sure my boss would just glare at me.

I reached out for the lobster and so did Mr Ahmed, I quickly retrieved my hand. My cheeks felt hot — out of embarrassment. This can't be happening, I started fidgeting with my fingers. Imad enjoyed his fries, I didn't dare touch anything on the table. "Layla," Mr Ahmed called out my name.

"Na'am (yes)?" I looked up. He didn't say anything else, he just stared at me for a second, his eyebrow arched. My hands started shaking. "Excuse me," I stood up. Why is this happening? It's ridiculous. I found my way to the girls restroom. I washed my face and fixed my hijab.

"Hi there." I got startled and placed my hand on my chest. It's Amanda. I looked at her through the reflection on the huge mirror in the restroom.

"Uh hi," I replied.

"You are so lucky," she said.

"What do you mean?" I asked confused.

"I have tried so hard to convince Mr Ahmed to go out with dinner with me. But he just doesn't budge. But he takes you? A poor muslim maid. It's pathetic," she said and walked away. Tears streamed down my cheeks. Why am I even crying? I am not even sad, I am enraged. I wash my face, and took a deep breath in. At least I'll never see her again.

I went back to the table where we were sitting, Mr Ahmed was now paying the bill. I took my hand bag and headed outside. I didn't want Imad to see my eyes, I hate it when I cry. My eyes always turn red, and my cheeks flush. Waiting outside in the cold, wasn't one of my best ideas. But it wasn't long until Imad and his uncle walked out of the restaurant.

❤️