FATIMA (YOU series #2)

Chapter 22

               Why anyone else when she exists?

- Unknown.

Ibrahim

My initial intention with Fatima was to help her. I'll admit I was just curious about her at first, but now every part of her mind, body, and spirit—even the parts I didn't yet know were entangled in my soul. All she had to do was smile, and I was smitten. 

I gave in as soon as I stared into those tragically beautiful eyes. It appeared as though I was bewitched.

I wanted to know everything about her. I was compelled to make her smile constantly by an overpowering feeling. I was so vulnerable to her allure. 

Her presence is my new favourite feeling. I was consumed with the need for her to be happy. 

We've spent our evenings together for the past two weeks, talking, watching tv shows, or hanging out. Fortunately, her resolve was starting to weaken. I needed her to be comfortable with me. It would make it easier to get her to open up. 

I didn't want to rush her, but Fatima has too many self-destructive habits. It felt like going through a minefield to navigate her emotions. Even she was unable to map out the ideal path through them.

I'd heard what had happened from her mother, but I wanted to listen to it from her. She would find it challenging, but she needed to recognise her trauma and be willing to let go. I want her to put it all behind her.

I knew she'd never forget, but I wanted her to be able to think about it without breaking down. I wanted to know all her triggers, so I could avoid them and her favourite things and spoil her with them.

Whatever she wanted that was reasonable, I would give to her. 

It scared me.

"What are you daydreaming about with that look on your face?" Bukar asks, nudging me. "The rest of you are all on your phones. Did you come to my office to ignore me?

"You're no different from a nagging wife," Akram says. 

I had gotten off work earlier than intended, so I visited Bukar. His office was nearby, and Hud said he'd meet me there. Akram and Jafar must have heard through the grapevine because they mysteriously appeared.

"Relax, we'll give you all the attention you want," Hud says, putting his phone into his pocket, and Bukar scoffs.

We chat for a while before we disperse. I stop by to see my father before heading home.

"I trust everything is going well," he says, referring to Fatima and me.

"I'm doing my best."

He hums while keeping his gaze fixed on the book on his lap. He has never been one to talk much. That is where I get it from. Only my inner circle had the privilege of hearing me say more than a handful of sentences. 

"I'll leave you then," I say, rising from the seat.

"Drive safe."

Fatima

"You're kidding, right?" I ask Jafar. He leaned against a counter, stuffing down the cookies I had just baked. 

He shakes his head, "Consider yourself lucky that I rushed here to tell you". 

Ibrahim was indeed something else. He hadn't mentioned that tomorrow was his birthday, even in passing. According to Jafar, he never celebrated or even acknowledged it despite Ammi's efforts.