It's a crazy idea of mine...
A sharp taste, stinging, burning, and bitter as well... yet... inspiring....
My thoughts are crowded with it all the time, revolving endlessly around its characters...
So what kind of taste will it be for you?
Don't Force Me to Love You 💕
BY Issam Dlifa
Who among us doesn't dream of finding the love they wish for? And who among us doesn't search for it? When we dream of love, we imagine a beautiful pink world where we live happily, our hearts soaring in its sky, surrounded by words of romance and longing...
But is that really the reality of lovers? Does every heart that falls in love find someone who returns the same feelings? And is love alone enough for us to live in peace, comfort, and happiness? Or are there other priorities...?
Of course, once we come down from that pink dream world into our real world, we find a huge difference. We are met with a very bitter reality...
This time, our story, no matter how much imagination it contains, also carries a lot of reality. Its characters represent me, represent you, and represent so many girls. It speaks about many things we try to close our eyes to... but for how long? How long can we keep pretending to forget?
Read between the lines, and pay close attention... maybe you will find your own problem there, and its solution too.
Don't force me to love you when you know with certainty
that you do not know how to return love with love.
Don't force me to love you let me be the one to choose.
Let me be the lady of the decision.
If your heart is a paradise, I will gladly find my way to it,
and if you are fire, then I seek refuge in God from you, I do not love fire.
Don't force me to love you, and be truthful in your promises.
Let me choose, for perhaps you may be the one I choose.
Don't force me to love you...
instead, compel my heart, for it is the true master of the decision...
Don't force me into the hell of your bed,
for that is not your decision to make.
Don't force me to love you...
and let me say at the top of my voice:
this is the man my heart has chosen.
She sat in her room, listening to the violent thunder and lightning outside, sounds she feared more than anything, sounds she simply could not bear. She felt hemmed in, smothered, as though the walls were closing around her, and her heart beat so hard it felt ready to burst.
Winter, in all its length and weight, had always terrified her. She could never understand how some people claimed to find comfort in that season, while she wished the whole year could be spring. Perhaps it was because she herself had been born in spring. Even her nature resembled it: gentle and balanced, though at times she could flare up, just as even spring carries its own sudden dust storms now and then. Such is the nature of the weather, and such is the nature of human beings.
That night, she was spending it alone at home. There was a wedding on her mother's side of the family, and her father had gone to take her there, since the celebration was outside the city and he would never allow her to travel by herself.
Then she heard the front door, as if someone were opening it and shutting it again. In that instant, her whole body went rigid. Yet despite the dread rising inside her, and despite the certainty that something about this was not right, there was still a hidden strength in her. She lowered her feet to the floor, slipped them into her slippers, stood up, and moved forward little by little. Just as she was about to reach the door, the call to the dawn prayer rose into the air.
It was as though all the other sounds vanished at once. She exhaled slowly and looked toward the window. The lightning still flashed across the sky, but the adhan eased her fear and gave her a measure of calm.
She knocked on the door and slid the iron bolt into place, hoping to quiet at least some of the fear stirred by the thoughts racing through her mind. But just as she turned her head toward the window, she caught sight of a masked figure passing beside the door and peering in through the glass.
In a single terrified motion, she shut her eyes. When she opened them again, there was nothing there. Gone as quickly as a grain of salt dissolving in water. She told herself she must have imagined it, or that the storm had unsettled her. Perhaps they were only illusions, conjured by a mind worn out from thinking too much.
But... how could all this be fear? When has Mohra ever been afraid or intimidated by anyone? But then again, anyone in her place would be terrified.Midnight... darkness... the wind whipping through the trees, making that eerie sound... plus the lightning and thunder that have terrified her since she was a child. All of this, and then seeing someone watching her from outside, of course she'd be scared!She sought refuge from the devil several times and recited Ayat al-Kursi, trying to calm that overwhelming sense of fear.
She read it over and over, once, twice, three times, until she began to feel a bit better. But her curiosity wouldn't let her stop thinking about the person she saw, even if it was just an illusion or a figment of her imagination. His face wasn't clear; she only saw his thick black beard and his massive frame. She forced her eyes open, trying to drive his image from her mind, but it was no use. That's how it is for people who overthink everything the big things, the small things, even the simplest details.She spent the rest of the night struggling to get through it, and only managed to fall asleep with great difficulty as morning approached. As soon as she woke up, she went straight to get dressed. she wore tight leather pants with a black turtleneck and layered a denim jacket over them. She grabbed her bag and headed straight to the kitchen. She thought her father would arrive early, but he was late. She made her breakfast without waiting for him, ate, and left his portion covered for him on the kitchen table before heading out. She was scrolling through her phone when she received a call from her mother.
Mohra: "Hey, Drissia... you're really checking up on me, huh?"
Drissia (The Mother): "Good morning, my daughter. It's my fault for not teaching you proper manners.
"Mohra: (Laughing softly as she signaled for a taxi) "Hahaha, good morning, my dear mother. So, tell me... how's the weather over there?"
Drissia: "Oh, the weather is beautiful. You can't get enough of the countryside air... honestly, it's so fresh."
Mohra: (Giving the taxi driver the address) "Well, enjoy yourself then, ma'am. It seems my father has really settled in there. Yesterday you told me he'd be back in the morning."
Drissia: " Your father is on his way... Listen, God bless you, if you get back early, make him some lunch and take it to his workplace. I know him he'll just settle for whatever is available."
Mohra: "Ooh, look at all this love! You just want to make sure he's taken care of..."
(She changed her tone) "Listen to me, Drissia. Your husband is my father, and I respect him dearly, but don't push it. If you want to make sure he's looked after, then stay by his side and give us some peace!"
Drissia: (Letting out her usual shout) "Oh, so we're equals now, are we? The student has become the master! I really want to know did I actually give birth to you, or did you just appear out of nowhere to haunt me, girl?"
Mohra: (She laughed so loudly that the taxi driver turned to look at her) "Drissia, for heaven's sake, I'm your daughter, I swear! If you stay away from your husband too long, you might just find me taking your place as his favorite lady, mark my words!"
She hung up, laughing at the string of insults she heard in response; her mother hadn't left a single thing unsaid. This was how it always was between her and Drissia, constant back and forth banter. Being an only child, she was the apple of her parents' eye, spoiled and acting like the "boss" of the house.When she arrived at the university, she found her friend Habiba at the gate, pacing back and forth like a restless spirit.
Mohra: (She paid the taxi driver, thanked him, then hopped out and waved) "Al Jazeera!"
Habiba: (Waving and jumping in place) "Hurry up, hurry! I've got some fresh news for you!"
Mohra: (Looking around her) "Quiet down, you're making a scene! Seriously, lower your voice..."
Habiba: (Grabbing her hand and squeezing it) "Listen up! Our new professor... that son of a... turns out he's married! My sister, he's a top-tier womanizer."
Mohra: (Laughing and narrowing her eyes at her) "Did you meet him yesterday, you little stray dog?"
Habiba: (Rolling her eyes and crossing her arms) "I just went to get some info, sister... honestly!"
Mohra: (Nudging her) "Mmm, 'get some info'... yeah, right. You live for gossip, that's why I call you 'Al Jazeera', you never miss a thing, always on top of it."
Habiba: (With mock innocence) "The news just finds its way to me..."
Mohra: (Raising her eyebrows) "Oh, really? Hahaha, as if I don't know you. Come on then, give me the scoop."
Habiba: (Sighing and acting heartbroken) "He broke my heart, may he get what's coming to him! And here I was, hoping to pass this year through him... but then he tells me to come over to his house. Can you believe it?"
Mohra: (Giving her a look of pure disdain) "His house? That son of a... wants to have his cake and eat it too? Unbelievable..."
Habiba: (Pouting) "And it turns out he's married, ma'am, playing around behind his wife's back."
Mohra: (Speaking softly and narrowing her eyes) "Well, I won't stand for my friend's heart being broken by some low life womanizer. I'll show him what us Soussia girls are capable of..."
Habiba: (Her eyes widening) "What are you planning to do, my dear friend?"
Mohra: (With a broad smile) "Nothing much... are we just going to let him walk the earth spreading corruption? Follow me."
Habiba: (Rolling up her sleeves) "Right behind you! I always love doing a good deed."
Mohra: (Smiling with mock innocence) "Well then, may our good deeds be accepted..."
From there, they headed straight to the lecture hall. They had a two hour session with the professor they were just talking about. As the lecture ended and people began to leave, Mohra signaled Habiba to head out too. Mohra stayed behind all by herself, putting on an act and looking at him with the kind of longing glances that could knock a bird off a wall. He was clearly enjoying it; even though he had packed his things, he stayed put, waiting to see what she would do with those looks she was giving him, especially since she was sitting right at the front, in clear view, and he knew exactly what those glances meant. Once all the students had left, she picked up her register and her bag and walked toward him with a confident, swaying stride. She stood before him, and he looked at her with eyes that were both laughing and wandering. This had been his way with girls since the day he started working at their university, moving from one to another. Even though he was married, he still had plenty of energy. he was still young and quite handsome, and he was full of himself, especially seeing how the girls reacted to him. So many of them were infatuated and falling for him... and she, too, decided to show him that if she started acting sweet and charming, he wouldn't know what hit him, especially since she was striking and had a captivating beauty. She leaned in closer and began to flutter her eyelashes slowly, striking him right in the heart.
Mohra: "Hello..."
The Professor: (Raising his eyebrows and scanning her thoroughly from head to toe with a look of pure admiration) "Hello there."
Mohra: (Smiling at him seductively and extending her hand to shake his) "I'm Mohra El Abdi."
The Professor: (Nodding his head) "Welcome, Mademoiselle. So, did you manage to catch much of the lecture?"
Mohra: (Softening her gaze slowly) "Honestly, I wanted to thank you... every word that comes out of your mouth goes straight into our minds. You have such a wonderful way of explaining things."
The Professor: (Settling into his seat, clearly pleased) "God bless you, my lady. If only all the students were as lovely as you, the university would be a much cleaner place."
Mohra: (She placed her register on his desk, directly over his phone, and leaned in, smiling and playfully twirling a lock of her hair) "And if only all the professors were like you... so handsome! Hahaha, half the university is falling for you."
The Professor: (Laughing until the dimples showed on the sides of his mouth) "And the other half?"
Mohra: (Giving him a flirtatious laugh) "The other half are the guys! Hahaha."
The Professor: (Pulling his business card from his tracksuit pocket) "This is my business card." (He took a pen and wrote his number on the back) "This is my private number... very few people have it. Just so you know you've already found a place in my heart."
Mohra: (Biting her lip as she took the card from him) "Haha, if only you knew how much you've entered my heart too... anyway, I have to go now. We'll be in touch." (She made a phone gesture with her hand)
As soon as she turned her back, her expression completely changed. She hurried out and met Habiba, waving the professor's phone in the air.
Mohra: "Look, I got you his phone!"
Habiba: (Her eyes widening as she slapped her thigh) "No way! This isn't what we agreed on!"
Mohra: (Giving her a look of disdain) "Oh, so I'm the bad one now for trying to get justice for you?" (She opened the phone easily... no passcode, nothing) "Hahaha, oh my god, look! He doesn't even have a passcode on it."
Habiba: "Wait, he probably has another phone. This one might be the one he leaves without a code just so his wife thinks he's being faithful... 'Look, honey, I have nothing to hide.' He's playing a dangerous game."
Mohra: "Get your phone out... save her number... hurry up, you idiot!"
Habiba: (Fumbling with her phone, her hands shaking) "Damn it, why did it have to freeze now? God help me with your antics, Mohra... when are you ever going to stop this?"
Mohra: "Are you seriously losing it right now? What's wrong with you? Just hurry up so we can get this over with!"
Habiba: (Wailing and slapping her thighs in panic) "Oh no, the cameras! The cameras, you idiot!"
Mohra ignored her. She went straight into the phone and saved the professor's wife's number, it was saved as "WIFE" in bold letters. She saved it and tucked the phone into her pocket, then handed the other one to Habiba with a smile.
Mohra: "Now, take it back to his office and tell him he left it in the lecture hall."
Habiba: (Her eyes widening) "And have him come straight for me if anything goes wrong later?"
Mohra: "You know what... just go put it on the desk in the lecture hall and come back. No one will see, no one will hear, and even if it gets stolen, it's not our problem. He has another phone anyway, he can use that one, hahaha!"
Habiba: "He does, that son of a... he keeps it in the car's glove box."