BEYOND AMBITION

CHAPTER FIVE

Even Iklas, despite all the time she had spent standing by the roadside, had never seen a car like this before. But the farm workers already had an idea—it could only be Omar or his mother. Only their bosses could afford such luxury, and the workers were always pleased to work under them.

Omar, meanwhile, was still engrossed in his newspaper as the car came to a stop. His driver quickly stepped out and opened the door for him.

"Subhanallah," Iklas whispered internally as she caught sight of the polished leather shoes stepping out of the vehicle.

The crowd was still processing the shock when Omar fully emerged from the car. A wave of expensive cologne spread through the air, wrapping around them like an intoxicating spell.

Iklas stared, her heartbeat pounding erratically. This was beauty in its purest form—powerful, refined, and utterly captivating.

"Today, I’ve met the one person who outshines me in beauty," she thought, squeezing her eyes shut before reopening them, inhaling deeply as if to absorb the mesmerizing scent lingering around him.

But she wasn’t the only one affected.

Omar’s gaze immediately landed on Iklas in her simple yet elegant dress. Her fair skin seemed to glow under the sunlight, standing out against the earthy tones of the farm.

His heart lurched violently in his chest.

Omar had seen many beautiful women, but none had ever made him feel this way. This petite young woman—who looked nothing like the polished socialites in his world—held a beauty so striking, so effortless, that for the first time in his life…

He felt completely undone.

He frowned as if he had seen something disgusting, gave her a look of disdain, and walked past her. He then greeted the men in the area, shaking hands with them before stepping aside with the manager to discuss something privately.

Iklas, on the other hand, was fuming because of the way he had looked at her. She hated being disrespected. Just because they were poor, did that give him the right to sneer at her? Hmm, this world, she thought bitterly.

As she stood there, waiting for her goods, her basket was finally filled, and she handed over the money. Meanwhile, Omar had finished at the egg section and moved on to the fruit section.

With great effort, Iklas lifted her basket and made her way to the fruit section. She paid for a large bag of apples, but as she turned to leave, she bumped into someone with full force.

Her basket tilted, and eggs tumbled out—twenty of them breaking on the spot. She barely reached the person’s chest, yet the impact left her startled.

Omar, on the other hand, felt an electrifying shock rush through his body, something he had never experienced before. The sensation zipped through him, leaving him momentarily stunned. However, he quickly composed himself, took a step back, and clicked his tongue in irritation.

"Psycho," he muttered.

Anger flared inside Iklas. He had caused the accident, and instead of apologizing, he insulted her?

She set her bag of apples down, stepped in front of him with hands on her hips, and glared at him fiercely.

"Mister, you caused this mess, yet you can't even apologize? Instead, you insult me? I was willing to let it go, but since you want to be rude, I swear you’re going to pay for every single egg that broke! I refuse to take this loss because of you."

Laughter bubbled up inside Omar, but he suppressed it. He had never encountered such a funny girl before. A small young lady with such sharp words and a temper—she even stood there shaking in anger before a man of his size.

Before he could respond, one of the workers arranging the fruits walked over and said, “Come on, Gomnati, no need to fight. He’ll pay you back. He owns the place.”

Still furious, Iklas snapped, “I don’t care! When he walked in earlier, he looked at me like I was nothing. So I swear, he’s paying for every single egg.”

This girl is young and full of fire, Omar thought to himself, both amused and intrigued.

A few more workers approached, shaking their heads. “Gomnati, wow, we’ve never seen you like this before,” one of them said.

Another worker added, “The manager, this is our boss.”

At the mention of Gomnati, the nickname she loved most, Iklas’ anger softened a bit. A smile even tugged at her lips, a sight that unexpectedly captivated Omar.

“Well,” she huffed, crossing her arms, “since it’s you guys asking, I’ll forgive him.”

She stepped aside, adjusting her basket while muttering to herself, “I was robbed today. Losing those eggs hurts the most. We would’ve used them for five whole days with Ummi. Or at least fried them with yams for two days. That would’ve been nice.”

Omar overheard her rambling, and for some reason, it made him smile. He hadn’t been this entertained in a long time.

A worker soon brought over a bag containing 100 eggs.

Iklas’ eyes widened. “What? But I said I forgave him!”

“The boss said to give them to you,” the worker explained. “You’ve actually gained more.”

“No, I said I forgave him. I don’t need this,” she insisted.

No matter how much they tried, she refused to take the eggs—until Omar himself took the bag and commanded, “Take it. I’m not in the mood for nonsense.”

His firm tone startled her, and out of fear, she quickly accepted.

Not only that, but her basket was refilled with eggs, extra apples were added, and her money was handed back to her.

Shocked, she hesitated before finally looking at Omar nervously and saying, “Thank you, sir. May Allah bless your wealth.”

Something in her sincerity made Omar’s heart warm. No one, not even his wife, had ever prayed for his wealth before—yet here was a stranger doing so.

“It’s okay. You may go now,” he replied simply.

She hesitated, shifting on her feet. “Uh… sir… About my outburst earlier—I was actually upset because my little sister refused to run an errand for me. That’s why I was so angry, not because of you.”

Omar just stared at her, amused by her attempt at an explanation.

Omar smiled, and Iklas froze in place. His dimples and breathtaking looks caught her completely off guard.

Meanwhile, in his mind, Omar mused, This girl is clever.

But on the outside, he quickly hardened his expression, pursed his lips in disapproval, and walked straight to his car. The driver pulled away, leaving Iklas staring after him.

She scoffed, feeling annoyed. Did he just look down on me again? Hmph. Whatever. At least we got food money today. I really came at the right time.

From that day forward, she mentally nicknamed him Lailatul Qadari—a name she found oddly fitting for him.

With some effort, she gathered her things and searched for a taxi. The weight of her goods made her struggle, but she didn’t mind. Today had been a lucky day—everything she got was free.

Now, she couldn’t wait to get home and tell Kaka Ummi all about it.

The taxi driver dropped Iklas off right in front of her house. Struggling with the weight of her goods, she hurried inside, her voice echoing as she called out excitedly,

"Ummi! Tsohuwa Kaka Ummi! Where are you?"

From inside, Kaka Ummi’s voice responded with amusement, "What’s with all the shouting? Are you chasing after someone who owes you money?"

Iklas ran up to her and hugged her tightly. "Ummi! I saw Lailatul Qadari today! And guess what? He gave me everything for free—eggs, apples, everything! I won’t have to go back to the market for a whole week! And I can even sell some of it for profit. Now, we can go grocery shopping because we only have one day’s worth of food left."

Kaka Ummi looked at her with a warm smile, relief and joy filling her heart at Iklas’s words. "Alhamdulillah, Iklas. You always know how to plan and manage things well." Then, with a teasing expression, she asked, "But wait, who is this Lailatul Qadari? I hope you’re not bringing something new into our lives."

Iklas laughed. "Ummi, he’s the owner of the poultry farm! He gave me everything for free."

She quickly narrated the entire story, and Kaka Ummi listened with gratitude. It was a blessing—they had no money left for food, and this unexpected generosity had come at the perfect time.

"Alhamdulillah," Kaka Ummi said, deeply moved. "You are truly wise with your planning, Iklas. Let’s sit down and figure out what to do next."

"Yes, Ummi. No Islamiyya (Qur'anic school) today—we're going to the market with Suhaila."

Iklas grabbed a pen and jotter, and they sat on the mat together. With her natural knack for organization, she listed everything they needed and structured their budget. Handing some money to Kaka Ummi for household supplies, she took Suhaila’s hand and headed straight for the market, determined to make the best of their unexpected fortune.