𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟎

Arzo

Working at F&F Innovation isn’t as bad as I thought.

The workload isn’t a lot. Our team leaders are one of the sweetest people I’ve met, the members of my team are amazing to work with- well, some.

Turns out, those guys who were talking about Faizan during our first meeting are also in the marketing department, as in the same department as mine. And they have a problem with everyone. Especially Bill. He is such a jerk, he thinks too highly of himself just because he makes stupid jokes about people. Whether it’s based on their accent, appearances or their style of teaching.

He’s the Shoaib of the group. I almost threw my metal bottle at his head because he’s so annoying but I don’t want to ruin my akhirah by murdering someone.

So, I try to think of happy thoughts whenever he starts talking.

It doesn’t always work.

Like right now.

We’re sitting in the break room discussing few projects. Our team leader- David- suggested that we go into the break room and have a normal chat about some of the ideas we gave and have food if we want to.

He just left because he was called by either Faizan or Farhan. As soon as he left, Bill started making fun of his way of teaching and his accent. I don’t understand how he got an internship here.

“If there is a way to exchange a team leader, I would like to exchange him to someone who knows how to speak english properly,” he states.

I draw circles on each side of my head while keeping my eyes closed, trying to ignore whatever he says.

Murder is haram. Murder is haram. Murder is haram. 

“Why do you have a problem with everyone?” someone asks, “you shouldn’t have applied here if you can’t stand anyone.”

“I didn’t have to apply here,” Bill says, “I’m only here so my dad thinks that I’m working hard. I have enough money to do whatever I want. Probably more than him.”

Do us all a favor and get out with your stupid money.

“You all should be glad I’m here. At least you have some kind of entertainment.” he says, “unlike this mute woman we’re stuck with,”

My movement come to a halt at his comment. I open my eyes to glare at him while he drinks out of his cup as if he’s done something cool.

“That’s not nice.” a girl beside me says.

“It’s the truth. She probably bribed someone to get in,”

I pull out my phone and start typing.

At least I don’t come here to ruin everyone’s day.

Some people around the table chuckle as they read it while Bill’s jaw clenches and he glares at me, “do you think you’re some kind of a cool person for saying shit like that?”

I shake my head in disbelief as I type, your choice words in that sentence just proved that your poor ego was hurt.

He scoffs, “you fucking wish,” I raise an eyebrow at his words and he must realize he made the same mistake again because his jaw clenches to a point I think he’ll break it.

But then he speaks again, “At least I have a voice to tell what I feel. By the time, you finish typing a sentence, a person will walk away." I force myself to stay calm but it doesn't last long, "People are only nice to someone like you because they feel bad for you, for your inability to communicate. Society sees you like no one other than a helpless, burdened woman.”

I grab my metal bottle to throw at his stupid head but the girls sitting beside hold me back.

“Don’t do it.” one of them says.

“He’s just being a jerk,” the other says.

Bill smirks, “did I hit somewhere sensitive?”

The girls beside me try to calm down my heavy breaths while I continue to glare at him as if my glare will bash his head. I tell myself not to show any tears or he'll win.

“Do you have a problem, Mr. Wagner?”

Bill’s body straightens at the sudden deep voice coming from behind him. Color drains from his face as he swallows and slowly turns around to face Faizan.

I didn’t even notice he came here.

When Bill doesn’t say anything, Faizan speaks again, “I asked you a question,”

“N-no, sir.”

Faizan is talking calmly but his voice contains so much power that a man would shake. Bill is on the verge of it.

“I’m sure your father would be thrilled to know about your behavior report,” Faizan says.

“What?”

“I’m assuming you didn’t read the important details before applying here,”

This company makes a behavior report, especially on interns. Every report has three strikes meaning if you get three complaints based on your behavior, you’re out. You’re either fired or your internship is taken away.

No one makes eye contact with Bill when he tries to look around, asking for help through his eyes.

“I’m not done talking,” Bill quickly looks back at Faizan, “Is your father aware of your views about this company? I’m sure he’d rather have you working at a different company,”

“N-no, sir. I am grateful to be working here,”

“Is that it? Because I heard you saying that we’re the ones lucky to have you here.”

Bill did say that once. I don’t know how Faizan found out about it, he wasn’t present.

Bill starts stuttering and just then David returns. He looks around the table, confused as to what happened.

“Is everything alright?” David asks.

“One of your members is having a certain problem fitting in,” Faizan says, without looking away from Bill, “Send him to my office when you’re done,” and with that he leaves as if he didn’t just scare a guy to death.

David releases a sigh of frustration before he continues where he left off. For the rest of the session, Bill doesn’t say a word.

But his previous words stick with me for the rest of the day.