Tale In The Red Sand

Chapter Twenty - Four

Hibaaq leaned back in her chair with a belly full from a delicious meal. "Alhamdulillah." She breathed softly, briefly closing her eyes from the blinding crystals that hung loosely above the dining table. Ercole sat leisurely opposite her, arms crossed over the broad expanse of his chest. She furiously blushed, quietly clearing her throat as she took a small sip from her cup of freshly pressed juice. Her mind just wouldn't allow her to forget the shirtless moment in the kitchen, it was branded into her brain. Even when he evidently sat with a shirt on, Hibaaq could virtually see the smooth tanned skin under it, peppered with tiny freckles. She blushed even harder, imagining how she could spend an entire day tracing each and every one with her fingers. She revelled in her absurd curiosities, swirling around the yellow content inside her cup.

"Did you enjoy it?" Ercole enquired, a heart warming grin on his lips.

"Very much, thank you."

In all truth, Ercole was conflicted, he idled for days thinking of how to tell her that he would be leaving soon. An abrupt phone call came for him a couple of weeks prior, limiting his stay and the time he wanted to spend in Somalia in the presence of a woman he came to enjoy much more than he reckoned. His fingers clasped together under the table, the small hairs on his arms and the side of his face rose from the cool breeze that blew its way in from the open sliding glass. He swallowed nervously, yet slightly irritated for he couldn't bring himself to simply utter three or more words about his untimely departure. He hadn't the clue of how she would react, perhaps that is what frightened him the most. Ercole didn't know whether is sentiments were unrequited or not, either way he had to tell her. It was his obligation, she and Warsame had opened up their home and their light and their tender company to him, after all.

"Hibaaq," He called her name.

"Yes?" She picked her head up, pausing the circular movements of her wrists as she placed the cup back down by her empty plate. Hibaaq studiously observed the anxious air about him, though he managed to keep a calm exterior, his once relaxed shoulders slowly stiffened under her questioning gaze. A sense of foreboding began to burrow deep in the area below her breasts, she hated the feeling, though she had a small hunch that it was about the news her grandmother had the pleasure of sharing. A minute that felt like an eternity passed before Ercole broke the deafening silence once again.

"I'm going to be leaving," He finally said, stopping a grimace from appearing on his face at his choice of words, sounding ever so curt. Must he be so... corporate with her? Hibaaq slowly nodded her head, forcing a genuine smile, though it probably looked out of sorts.

"I see," She said, hoping the dejection wouldn't falter her voice too much, but she didn't wish for him to leave so soon. Not when she was beginning to become so fond of him. "Italy?" She presumed.

"Qatar actually, my father has fallen ill," He divulged despondently, staring at the intricate patterns of the lace table covering, rather than her capturing eyes. He failed miserably for a soft command prompted him to raise his head.

"Look at me, Ercole," Her eyes searched his face, torn by the defeat in his own, much like the moment of vulnerability in her car; where she took a glimpse at Ercole's tattered soul for the first time. "Everything will be alright, In'sha'allah. May Allah grant him a speedy shifaa," She prayed. His chest swelled at her pretty smile. It felt like his heart skipped a beat or two which sounded terrifying, though it was anything but. He wouldn't trade the feeling for the world.

"Ameen."

He didn't know how he would do without her, even though he had been fine without her for as long as he could recollect. She felt so right, so warm and familiar, it's as if he had known her for years let alone a mere month.  That night they both retreated to their separate rooms, their nightly conversations Hibaaq so eagerly looked forward to every night was cut short as a melancholy ambience dissipated itself into the air. They laid awake and thoughtful like many nights before, praying to Allah swt of some sort of way out of the bottom of the well they lay in, staring up at the small sphere of light above.

Qadr from the grace of Allah was not something Hibaaq thought much about, but wholeheartedly believed in, for qadr is what brought him here in the first place. She prayed in the darkness of her bedroom that he would return, even if unlikely so, she prayed that he return to her.

...

Qadr -  predestined matter. In Islam we believe that our lives and everything we do with it was written long before we were in our mother's wombs, including the people we meet and the relationships we build as well as our soulmates.

In sha Allah - If God wills it
Shifaa - Cure/ healing