Forbidden | Haram

The plane's wheels landed with a jolt, jolting me awake. I woke up panicking from the sudden movement. I would have stood up if it weren't for the seat belt still strapped around my waist. Then I heard the voice of the flight attendant over the speakers. I let out a series of sighs as I calmed down.

It was 8:00 AM when we arrived at the airport, which meant it was already 9:00 AM in Pakistan, an hour ahead of Dubai time. I unclasped the silver watch on my wrist, a birthday gift from my cousin. Standing at the side of the air bridge to let other passengers exit, I adjusted the time on my watch. Hello, Pakistan. Here I am, I thought as I dragged my jet-lagged body and waited for my baggage downstairs. It had been a three-hour flight, but I wasn't a morning person. Plus, I hadn't slept at all before the flight. I'd definitely need to fuel up with a cup of coffee later.

It had been a week since my mandatory vacation leave from work started. I hadn't planned on traveling anywhere-I just wanted to stay in my room, read books, or watch movies and series online. My cousin Kristoff, who was also my roommate, insisted I take this time as an opportunity to travel. I could still hear him in my head, pestering me every day to meet new friends and enjoy life while I was still young.

I know, I'm still young. I just turned twenty-five last month. That's not old yet, I thought, glancing around for my bag.

"Believe me, you should do this. Money won't be a problem since the conversion rate is high. Or I can give you spending money. Please, cuz, travel and enjoy your life while you're young," he had said. "You, sitting at home reading for a week? You're practically a hermit in disguise," Kristoff teased, nudging me as he chopped vegetables. "At least do something exciting-go see the world while you're still 'young and restless.'"

"Oh, remember Kashifa? He went home today, and he asked if you'd like to visit his country. He can travel with you while you're there, and you can even stay at his house," he had mentioned while we were cooking in the kitchen.

Who could forget Kashifa? He'd been coming over to our apartment twice a week, usually staying from the afternoon until dinner and leaving around ten. He and Kristoff had worked together for three years already, though I'd only met him at my birthday party.

"You know, cuz, I think Kashifa likes you," Kristoff added, giving me a knowing look. I shot him a skeptical look. "How did you know?" my expression seemed to say. "He's been asking about you since he first met you," Kristoff continued. "And remember how many times he's visited? Twice a week, and he always brings something over."

"You're imagining things. He's just super friendly," I replied. "Maybe he just wants new friends since his old ones are boring?"

Kristoff laughed. "Maybe, cuz. But have you noticed how he looks at you? There's a difference between how he looks at you and at me," he teased. I rolled my eyes.

"Let's focus on cooking. I don't want to entertain any thoughts about him right now. He's from a different religion and culture...he grew up in a society with different norms." I raised my fingers to count off my points, and Kristoff nodded, raising his hands in surrender.

"But really, you should travel during your leave. You've been working here for four years and always stayed in the apartment. If your parents were alive, they'd want you to enjoy life. Go out, make new friends, enjoy. I'm repeating myself," he laughed.

"Yes, you are. I'll think about it." I reassured him. He was right. My company gave us two months of mandatory leave every two years, yet I always stayed in the apartment. I hadn't returned to the Philippines-there wasn't anyone to visit. Aunt Nida and Uncle Leo, Kristoff's parents, raised me after my parents died when I was seven or eight. My grandparents were gone, Aunt Nida was my dad's only sibling, and I wasn't close to my other relatives.

At the airport, I connected to Wi-Fi since my phone had no signal, and I needed to message Kashifa, who'd gone home a week earlier. Kristoff and he had already warned me that I wouldn't have reception upon arrival. I'd need to buy a local SIM card. I'd think about that later, though, since I saw my bag. I scrolled through my apps and opened WhatsApp.

"Welcome to Pakistan!!!" Kashifa replied. His voice message was filled with background noise-people talking, cars honking. "Just wait for me there. I'll be there in, umm, thirty minutes to, ahh, pick you up, okay?"

"Okay," I typed and hit Send. I took a quick selfie and sent it so he'd recognize me when I waited outside the airport.

On my way to the exit, I stopped by a fast food place to grab a coffee and a donut. I'd have a proper breakfast once I met up with Kashifa. Each sip of coffee seemed to boost my energy. I'd been so sleepy, but not anymore. I just hope I don't fall asleep before we reach his house, I thought, smiling.

I struggled with the signs, so I asked someone for help. I'd tried using Google Translate earlier, but the Wi-Fi was too slow. The man responded in a mix of Urdu and English, with pauses between each word. His hand gestures directed me through a maze of twists and turns to the exit. I hid my nervousness behind a smile and thanked him. "You know what, umm, let me, ahh, just take you there," he said, kindly offering to carry one of my bags.

"Pakistanis are very friendly people, just like us-very hospitable and caring," Kristoff had said. I agreed as we walked toward the meeting place.

Kashifa's house was almost two hours from the airport. He greeted me warmly, even giving me a brief hug that left me feeling both reassured and unsettled.

Maybe Kristoff was right, I mused. Maybe I have been wasting my twenties being holed up at home watching TV and reading. Out here, this is real-the experiences I've only read about or watched on screen.

As we settled into the car, Kashifa's green-brown eyes met my own dark ones, and I felt my heart skip a beat. "Did you eat breakfast?" he asked, smiling. I told him no, and he replied, "Good! My mother made extra food since you're here. Everyone is excited to meet you." His accent was thick, but his excitement was clear.

I thanked him, taking a deep breath. Act cool, I told myself. Once I calmed down, I asked if we could stop at a store for some toiletries and gifts for the kids in his family. He smiled and agreed. We ended up with four bags-two for my essentials and two for treats for the kids.

When we arrived, Kashifa's family welcomed me with warmth. His father, possibly in his fifties, shook my hand and introduced everyone in English, while about twenty people stood in the guest room. I struggled to remember all the names, but I felt grateful they spoke English, easing my worries. Kashifa, however, was nowhere to be seen; his father had said something to him in Pashto.

After the guests left, Kashifa and his brother Ahmad brought plates of food. Fried chicken, sliced fruit, meat in gravy, and rice were laid out before us. My stomach rumbled at the delicious smells. Kashifa piled food in front of me, translating parts of the family's lively conversation.

Watching Kashifa with his family, I realized how deeply rooted he was in a world I barely understood, I thought. As I savored the delicious food and the warmth of their company, a sense of hope filled me. Perhaps this was the beginning of a new chapter in my life, one filled with adventure and meaningful connections. I couldn't wait to see what the future held.