Inaya & Haifa - Nusantara Oyakodon

A/N: This one has a religious/blasphemous element to it. Specifically to the religion of Islam and its believer, the Muslim. Take that as you will.

It's been a couple of months since The Click, which his good friend Kina coined as a term for the phenomenon, happened. To say Liam's life has changed is an understatement; as much as he liked to think that he was unchanged, the world around him changed so drastically that it was just unavoidable.

He felt the soft weight of a woman's head on his lap, her hair spilling like dark silk across the worn denim of his jeans. Kina, ever-present since The Click, traced idle patterns on his thigh with a perfectly manicured nail. “So, what kind of women you'd try next? Hopefully someone outside of our apartment complex 'cuz… Pretty sure you've used all of us, hot stuff.” She smirks, “Well, all the hot ones you've been meaning to anyway.”

The words, coming from anyone else, would have been vulgar, a crude objectification of an entire gender. From Kina, it sounded like a business proposition, a logistics report on a project she was deeply invested in. He let his gaze drift over the surroundings of his apartment unit. It's amazing what a couple of months can do to your place when you've got basically a dozen women pitching in their womanly touch.

What was once a bachelor's cluttered den had become a sanctuary of comfort and order. Fresh flowers always sat in a vase on the coffee table, their fragrance a constant, subtle presence. The air always carried the faint scent of lavender and clean laundry. The refrigerator was always stocked with his favorite foods, prepared and labeled with dates, a silent chorus of care.

“Hmm… I do want to try something new. Err, you know, something I can't usually have or do.” Liam's voice trails off in contemplation.

Kina's head lifted from his lap, her dark eyes meeting his through the rectangular frames of his glasses. “What? Like fuckin' and using half of this building's tenant is something you normally can do?” She jabs at how acclimated Liam started to become to the new reality.

“You know what I mean, you dumb slut,” Liam retorted, "before all this.”

Kina's expression didn't falter for a second at the insult. Instead, her lips curled into a wider, more genuine smile. A faint blush rose on her cheeks, a reaction that was both instantaneous and completely involuntary.

“Oh,” she said, her voice softer, more pleased. “Well, what's brewing then? You got all that freedom to explore whatever weird-ass fantasy you got pent up in that head of yours, and I'm sure there's a woman out there that would absolutely love to help you get it done.”

He didn't answer immediately. His gaze shifted to the window, to the city sprawling beyond their apartment complex. A world of strangers, a world of women who didn't yet know his face. The Click had given him this immense power, this global acceptance, but the knowledge was still abstract when it came to the anonymous masses. He tried friends of friends, some local, immediate strangers, and they were all willing, eager even, to fulfill him. He even tried random women on the streets, and all it took was him saying his name. He would get the same reaction every single time. A momentary pause, a flicker of cognitive breakthrough, realization, and then, recognition. The subsequent behavior was always, unfailingly, the same. A shift in posture, a dilation of the pupils, a sudden, almost reverent attentiveness. Each and every one of them would have the same expression in their eyes, that ‘Of course! It's you!’ look. It was predictable but oh so intoxicating.

Still, even after months of the impossible, it still feels insane that what Liam can get away with applies to the city at large, or even the whole wide world. The scope is almost too large for a guy who just wants to test the boundaries. He needs a smaller pond to fish in.

“Someone with a very strict code, umm personal rules like, oh! Like religion?” Liam's words came out slowly, testing the idea. A thrill, sharp and illicit, shot through him. “Someone who, you know… wouldn't.”

“Like a nun?” Kina's question was bright and curious, as if he'd suggested trying a new type of coffee. She sat up fully, the movement fluid and graceful, completely unconcerned about her state of undress or the rumpled sheets around them. “I can see the appeal. The contrast.”

“Yeah, I guess so. But I feel it's too stereotypical? Like, I want to try nuns, obviously, but I don't know; I want something else…” The thought had been simmering at the back of his mind for a while, a strange, almost blasphemous curiosity.

The sanctity of a life dedicated to a higher power, the vows of chastity and service—it represented a commitment that predated his own. It was the most significant pre-existing claim on a woman's soul that he could think of. To see that claim not just challenged, but willingly, joyfully, supplanted in favor of him… It's appealing. But, like he said it himself, later.

“A Buddhist girl?” Kina offered, tilting her head. “I went to a yoga retreat once, the instructor was this super serene chick from Thailand. Always talking about detachment and inner peace.”

“Nah…” Liam trailed off, tapping a thoughtful rhythm on the arm of the sofa. “What about those girls with the headscarf… The the one with, um… Hijab?”

“A Muslim girl? Ha!” Kina's laugh was a short, delighted bark. “Now that's a challenge. All that modesty, all those rules about men not related to them… All for you to walk up and say, 'Hi, I'm Liam.'” She snapped her fingers, the sound sharp in the quiet room.

“Yeah? What's wrong with it?” The question was genuine, seeking guidance from a woman he trusted, one whose own worldview had been comprehensively rewritten but who still, in some strange way, felt like his neighbor and friend, Kina.

“Nothing! Nothing's wrong with it. I love it. It's just… potent. You're really leaning into it, aren't you? Good.” She grins.

“Right, well, it's still shit regardless because I don't know any Muslim people, girl or not.” Liam sighed, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice.

The logistics of his newfound ‘privilege’ were, surprisingly, a real nuisance. A desire and the will to enact it were there, but the stage was missing. He was all dressed up with no one to impress, or rather, no one to debase for his own amusement. Seeing Liam’s state, Kina's grin turns into a full-blown, delighted smile. Something Liam was quick to notice.

“What, you know one?” He asked, leaning forward.

“Hey, unlike you, Mr. Shut-in, I'm well connected.” Kina put the back of her fingertips on her chin, posing in a smug way. “I happen to have a Muslim friend from my college days, Inaya. Total sweetie. We kind of drifted apart after I graduated, but we follow each other on social media. She's super into her faith. Like, prays five times a day, wears the hijab, the whole nine yards. I've even been to her place once. The food was amazing.”

“Sounds perfect…?” Liam said, trying to piece it together.

“You'd think I'd suggest a woman who isn't fuckable by your standards? C'mon Liam.” Kina rolled her eyes playfully. “But let me be clear, Inaya is, hot. Like the type of hot that the whole 'modesty' thing only makes more alluring. Here.” She moved to her discarded shorts and fished for her phone.

She navigated to her profile with a few confident taps on the screen. The bright light illuminated her face as she handed it to Liam. “This is her.”

Liam took the phone. The screen displayed a profile picture of an undeniably beautiful woman. Inaya's features were an elegant fusion of soft curves and defined lines: high cheekbones, a nose that was straight and fine, and full lips that seemed to hold a natural pout. Her hijab, a soft emerald green, framed her face flawlessly, not hiding her beauty but rather accentuating it, drawing all attention to her expressive, dark eyes and the smooth expanse of her forehead. There was a serene dignity about her, a composure that radiated from the photo. Her gaze was directed slightly off-camera, giving her a thoughtful, almost scholarly air.

“Damn.” The single word was all Liam managed, a slow whistle of appreciation catching in his throat. He wasn't just looking at a pretty face; he was looking at a fortress of belief, a structure of relentless discipline built over years. And he held the dynamite. A warmth spread through his chest, a cocktail of power and raw, simple attraction.

"Yea you like her huh?" A glint of triumph was in Kina's eyes. "Her posts are always full of religious quotes and pictures from her community events. But look, sometimes when she visits family overseas or does more private stuff, she'll post something else entirely. Let me see..."

Kina deftly swiped through Inaya's feed, her thumb moving with practiced speed. "Alright, she knows she shouldn't do this because it's uhh I think the term is ‘aurat’ or something. But sometimes she posted something that is available only to female friends. Trusted. Female friends." The last few words were said as a matter of fact.

She stopped and angled the screen back toward him. This one was different. Gone was the hijab. Her black hair, a cascade of thick, silky waves, tumbled over her shoulders, reaching down to the small of her back. She was smiling here, a genuine, uninhibited laugh caught mid-motion. She was lounging on what seemed to be a fancy couch, wearing simple dark-colored pajamas that were modestly cut but left enough of an impression to make one able to figure out what her body is like. A woman's body. Not thin in the conventional sense, but shapely, with full breasts that pressed against the fabric of her top and hips that flared out into soft, generous curves. She was a woman built for comfort, for warmth, an image at odds with the severe, ascetic vibe the religious texts on her public profile suggested.

"Nice... But it still doesn't answer how I, we, get to her." The question was practical, a gear shifting in his mind from appreciation to execution.

He scrolled through a few more of the private photos, each one revealing a little more of the woman hidden beneath the public face of piety. There was one of her at a beach, her hair caught in the sea spray, her arms outstretched as if to embrace the world, fully clothed but with an abandon that was almost pagan compared to her public persona.

“If we have good timing…” Kina looks at the time on her phone as she snatch it back from Liam, "Which we do, we might be able to catch her just after her meeting with my college's Muslim community. She's volunteering as a secretary for them. That's probably over. She might drop by her family's restaurant before heading home upstairs. Her mom works there, and she'd drop down to help, it's her routine. If I message her now, 'Hey Inaya! Been so long, I'm in the area with my friend. Mind if we do some meet up? Then crashing your family's place?' She'll say yes.” Kina leaned back, her expression triumphant. “I'm her good friend from college. She'll want to reconnect.”

Liam watched her, a strange mix of awe and amusement swirling in his chest. Kina wasn't just a participant in his new reality; she was an active collaborator, a strategist in the art of fulfilling his whims. She enjoyed it, that was obvious.

“I mean yeah, do it.” His permission hung in the air, simple, absolute. “Crashing her family's place? Sounds bold.” He adds a dash of sarcasm.

“It is. But her family is pretty chill. As long as it's one of her old friends, they'd be cool with it. They're good people,” Kina confirmed, her thumbs already flying across the screen. “Plus maybe you can bag the mom too, get that MILF action, eh?” she said nonchalantly, like she was suggesting he add extra pickles to a sandwich.

The thought struck him. He felt a familiar heat spread through him, a warmth that started in his groin and suffused his entire being. “Maybe… Let's not get ahead of ourselves. But now that you've put the idea in my head…”

“Heh, that's the spirit.” Kina smirked, her fingers pausing. “There. Sent. Now we wait.” She set the phone down on the coffee table, screen up, as if awaiting a summons.

“How's her family like?”

“Honestly, a bit like her. Warm, welcoming, but definitely old school. The dad owns a restaurant, but he died a couple of years ago, so now it's just her mom and brother.” Kina looked over at him, her expression shifting into something like a lecturer's. “Her brother is a total bro. Like, 'Let's go smoke a shisha,' kind of bro. Super chill. He would totally vibe with you if you weren't, y'know, the new messiah of pussy.”

“I wouldn't go that far,” Liam chortled at the term. “Wouldn't big bro or whatever be protective of the women of his family, on top of being… Y'know, a fellow Muslim?”

“He would be, yeah. But that's where I come in, bozo. He might be Muslim, but he can't ignore these…” Kina gestures, her hands trying to carve out a shape in the air that encompasses the whole of her being. “These puppies.” A playful but confident smirk. “I told you I've been there once. Adam couldn't keep his eyes off me. He tried to play it cool, but I saw him staring.”

“You're gonna fuck him?” Liam asks deadpan.

“What?! Ew no…!” Her face scrunched in a reflex of genuine disgust. A reminder of how normal everything is outside his sphere. “Not my type or will, ever. I just mean with me there he'll be taken care of, like he will just yapping with me, or whatever.” Her disgust softened back into a calculating smile. “But also, what is he going to do? Challenge the will of a woman who made her own decision to spend a day with an old friend? If you and I walk into her family's restaurant and the two women there, who apparently have no need to consult him, say, 'This is our guest,' that's the end of the conversation.” Her logic was flawless, a masterclass in navigating the new world order. “Men like him are background noise now, Liam. They're just… wallpaper.”

Before Liam could digest that, her phone buzzed, a sharp vibration against the wood of the coffee table. The screen lit up with a new message. Kina snatched it, her eyes scanning the text. A slow, victorious smile spread across her face. “She said yes.”

The drive was a blur of city lights and Kina’s running commentary on the two's history, including how she's the rebel phase catalyst for Inaya's more rebellious phase in their senior years. Well, as rebellious as one pious Muslim girl can be. Which is, from the picture shown by Kina, a pair of skinny jeans Inaya bought but never had the courage to wear in public, and wearing a somewhat form-fitting top that was 'scandalous' for her standards then.

“I think she secretly still has those,” Kina said, eyes gleaming with mischievous joy. “Bet you could get her to wear them for you.”