Dare You To Love Me

«34» a gentle touch

An incredulous laugh that sounded half like a whine, and half like a sob escaped her lips, as the first tear fell. “I look like shit,” she said, her lips curling into a sneer.

Perhaps it was vanity speaking, or stress or her shame even, but Yaseerah didn’t look or feel beautiful in that moment. She knew that she shouldn’t care as much as she did, because it was only temporary, and would be nothing more than a distant memory in a few weeks. But the problem was, she did care, no matter how hard she tried not to.

Or perhaps it was the fact that her vulnerability was no longer just on the inside or behind closed doors but out in the open now, glaring at the world in full color, glaring at him, that made her wish he would leave, so she could drown in shame, alone.

“You’re still beautiful to me.” He reached from behind, wiping away the tear from her skin with his thumb, his touch so soft, and reverent, it made tears well up in her eyes.

Her lips wobbled slightly, as she watched him reach for a washcloth, wetting it under the faucet, before gently turning her around.

She was stiff at first, but relaxed slightly, as he began to wipe away the remaining makeup from her face, taking care not to aggravate her bruises further.

Closing her eyes, she subconsciously leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hands soothing her aching skin.

Despite wanting to hold herself together, Yaseerah failed miserably, as another tear slipped down her cheeks and trickled onto his fingers at her chin.

“Albi.”

Fou’ad’s chest ached, and without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, knowing selfishly that he needed to hold her more than she needed to be held.

At the contact, Yaseerah broke a little once again, but she swallowed it back, before she pulled away from him, missing his warmth immediately, as she turned back to the faucet and splashed water on her face, swallowing back the torrent of emotions that threatened to swallow her whole.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“It will heal,” she responded in a monotone voice, as she picked up a clean towel and began to gently pat her face dry.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It is what it is,” she shrugged noncommittally, as she reached for a bottle of moisturizer, her hands shaking a bit, as she began to apply it to her face, finding no comfort in the familiar ritual.

“I’m so sorry, for everything.” Fou’ad’s voice was a low thrum–tentative and scared, like a mouse when it danced precariously around the edge of a cheese trap, confused as to how to approach it without causing any damage to itself or the cheese.

Had the apology came from anyone, Yaseerah would have immediately dismissed the concern as pity but from Fou’ad, she knew it was empathy, and it made her heart squeeze so painfully, a low gasp escaped from her lips.

“What are you sorry for? It isn’t your fault.” You're the only one who has made it all feel a bit more bearable.

He shook his head, guilt and self-deprecation written all over his face. “Nobody should have to go through what you did. To think that he’s supposed to be the one protecting you... I just don’t... I can’t fathom... I...” Fou’ad blew out a breath, his eyes misting with unshed tears, as he stared down at her, unable to find the right words to say.

All he wanted to do in that moment was wrap his arms around her and never let her go, to protect her from everyone and everything but he knew that she was strong enough to fight her battles on her own.