When Iliana woke up, she took her time getting ready, slipping into a beautiful white long frock that flowed gracefully around her. She paired it with stylish short boots that added a touch of edge, and a soft pink sweater that wrapped her in warmth. To complete her look, she draped a delicate pink scarf over her head, giving her an ethereal appearance. As she gazed into the mirror, she felt a mix of hope and uncertainty. "InshaAllah, today will be blessed," she murmured to herself, but a sigh escaped her lips as she pondered the irony of her relationship with Jungkook—how he treated her with such kindness, while she often found herself responding differently.
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Iliana remembered that Asma was still nestled in the adjacent room. She knocked gently on the door and called out, "Good morning! Can I come in?" When Asma's sleepy voice replied affirmatively, Iliana opened the door with a bright smile, her excitement bubbling over. "Let's head to the kitchen! I want to make something special today. It's been ages since you've come to my home, and I think it's the perfect opportunity for us to whip up a delicious treat together. What do you say?" She felt a surge of joy at the thought of spending quality time with her friend, reminiscing and creating memories over a shared meal.
Jungkook woke up feeling refreshed and ready to start the day. As he was about to sneak out of Iliana's house without a word, her voice called out, "Wait, Jungkook! Have some breakfast first. Then you can leave whenever you like." He turned to see Iliana descending the stairs with Asma, and he couldn't help but admire her. "If perfection had a face, it would definitely be yours," he said, gulping nervously.
"I'll whip up breakfast today," he added, trying to sound casual. "Consider it my way of repaying you for letting me crash here." Iliana and Asma exchanged glances, a mix of surprise and amusement dancing in their eyes before they nodded in agreement.
As Jungkook tied on an apron, his tattoos peeked out, and he couldn't resist stealing glances at Iliana as he moved into the kitchen. Iliana caught his eye suddenly and thought, "He looks fine..." Then, shaking her head in disbelief, she scolded herself internally, "Astagfirullah, what am I thinking?" To distract herself, she focused on her zikr, letting the beads roll through her fingers as if they could somehow erase the thoughts swirling in her mind. It was almost comical how a simple breakfast had turned into this unexpected moment of tension.
Jungkook was busy whipping up breakfast like he was auditioning for a cooking show. He made pancakes, brewed coffee, and even set out berries on the dining table like a fancy restaurant. "Here's your coffee, Iliana—just the way you like it, less milk," he said, all proud of his barista skills.
Iliana, on the other hand, was thinking, "Yeah, right, I'm on my period; coffee is definitely not happening." Asma, even the observant one, noticed Iliana's discomfort and jumped in. "Thanks, sir! But she can't take it right now; she has a stomachache." Jungkook looked totally baffled but just mumbled an "okay" and sat down, probably wondering what just happened.
They all said "Bismillah" before eating, and Jungkook sighed, trying to fit in with the whole vibe. After the meal, as he got up to leave, Iliana casually said, "Allah hafiz!" Jungkook was left scratching his head, clearly puzzled, but hey, he just nodded and slipped out quietly. Classic breakfast drama, right?
Asma said, "Iliana, mam, sir seems so worried."
Iliana replied, "True, but don't worry; he'll be fine, inshaAllah," although she was secretly worrying too.
Meanwhile, Jungkook hopped on his "baby doll"—a.k.a. his bike—and headed home. His mother, Esra, was practically in a panic. "I called you 12 times, Jungkook! Where were you??"she exclaimed, wrapping him in a hug like he'd just returned from a week-long expedition.
"I was at my friend's house," Jungkook replied, with all the warmth of a frozen fish. His father, Syed Ahmed, wore an apologetic expression that could rival a puppy's eyes. "Son, if you felt hurt because of my words yesterday, I'm sorry. I only said it for your betterment," he said, trying to sound wise before leaving the house, probably to escape the awkwardness.
Esra sighed, looking at Jungkook, "please don't do this again. At least tell me before you leave. And don't worry, son; your father says everything for you. You should understand that."
Jungkook rolled his eyes so hard he probably saw his brain. "Yeah, sure, Mom," he muttered, retreating to his room like a misunderstood artist.
Once inside, he donned a green coat and pants, styling his hair to perfection, looking all elegant and ready to impress. "Who wouldn't want you, Jungkook? Well, except Iliana," he thought sarcastically. "She seems utterly immune to your well-built body and handsome face. What a tragedy!' He slid his hands into his pockets, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all."
Jungkook headed straight to Iliana's office. When he arrived, he found her head resting on her desk, and a flicker of concern crossed his mind.
"Green chameleon, what happened? Aren't you going to eat my mind today?" Jungkook said with a sarcastic smirk as he settled into a chair.
Iliana shot him a glare that could melt steel before burying her head back on the desk. "Shut up, Archaeopteryx. I mean, Jeon Archaeopteryx," she retorted, clearly not in the mood for his antics.
Jungkook bit his lip, trying to suppress a laugh. "Did you solve that worker case thing?"
"He ran away," she replied flatly.
"Shoot the freaking hell," Jungkook exclaimed, frustration bubbling up.
"Jeon, stop cussing; it's haram," she chastised him, her tone sharp.
"What's the meaning of haram?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"It means it's not allowed in Islam," she explained, her voice losing some of its edge.
"Your religion is—" Jungkook began, but Iliana's finger tapping on the desk cut him off, a clear warning not to go there.
"Oh, green chameleon seems angry," he teased, a grin spreading across his face despite the tension.