In My Deep Memory ( IN REWRITE )

XXI- Unexpected Alliances

"You're right, and I haven't forgiven him for that, but we really need him; that's why I warned you from the beginning. For now, I'll leave you to it. I hope you can reflect on what I've just said."

Then she turned away and left.

***

The night had fallen long ago, but Michel had not yet returned, which began to worry the young woman. She paced back and forth, glancing at the clock from time to time. Eleven o'clock, eleven-thirty, midnight. She had called him several times but always reached his voicemail. What if something had happened to him? She had no idea where he could be.

"His office!" a light bulb suddenly lit up in her head.

She called his work phone, only to reach the sleepy voice of his secretary. The call had been automatically forwarded to him, as he was not answering his phone. She quickly apologized for disturbing him at such a late hour before hanging up.

Anxiously, she could only pray to the heavens for his safety. Sleep eventually numbed her, despite her struggle to stay awake. She was later awakened by a noise. Fathim sat up, realizing she had dozed off. The lights were off, although she could not remember turning off the one in the room where she was.

On guard, her first instinct was to check on the twins' room. To her surprise, she saw the young man standing by the crib, gazing up at the clear sky on this full moon night. He had heard her come in, but he did not flinch.

Thinking he was drunk, she approached stealthily. It was only when she was near him that she realized she was wrong. He did not smell of alcohol. He was tall! The moonlight made each of his features more irresistible. Yet, he had his back to her.

"Planning on staring at me for long?"

His voice made her jump.

"Uh, I, um..." She did not know what to say, embarrassed.

He turned to face her. They were close, very close, closer than she would have liked. At least the darkness could hide her blush, but he still noticed that she was avoiding his gaze.

Michel remembered the night he had kissed her. He often maintained a certain lucidity when he was drunk, and that night had been no exception. Yet, he had wanted to forget that moment. It had happened accidentally, on impulse, as a way of trying to push away his feelings for Arele. But he could not.

Gradually, her image had replaced Arele's in his mind—her voice, scent, presence. He did not want to accept it. Arele had always been the only woman who had a place in his heart. She was and would remain the person he loved. Well, she was the one he was supposed to love.

However, since he learned she was pregnant, that love had started to fade. Although he did not want to admit it, it was not just simple jealousy; he knew she would never be his again. It took him a while to accept it.

Nevertheless, she would always be his friend, his sister. And then there was this woman, Fathim Mahed. She had an effect on him, he could not deny it. She was his opposite in many ways, yet she could read him like an open book. And living under the same roof only complicated things further.

After much reflection, knowing that the man he despised was related to the young woman reassured him. Despite his anger, he was now convinced that it could have been worse. Because the root of the problem remained Wilbert. It did not matter who he had used to eliminate his target. Arele was the target, and he would have succeeded in his scheme, the cunning man that he was.

He already knew part of the story, but if they wanted to succeed, they had to gather all the pieces. Fathim had indeed managed to find the missing piece. It was a twist of fate that their parents' pasts were intertwined. What a joke of fate!

Although it recommended joining forces with a criminal, the adage still held true: "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

He had trusted her judgment from the beginning, so he might as well continue until the end. For Arele. "As for feelings, we'll deal with that later!"

"I've thought about it," he finally said, "I trust you."

"What!" Fathom was afraid she hadn't understood. "Does that mean you accept?"

He didn't answer, merely offering a barely perceptible smile in the darkness. He lowered his gaze, trapping hers, while his face leaned gently towards hers. The young woman didn't move, hypnotized by this sudden change.

"You understood correctly!" he whispered.

"What, what!"...

The brunette didn't know where to put her feet. She was so relieved that she wanted to express it. But his proximity made it hard to breathe. Seized by a sudden impulse, Michel grabbed her neck and crushed his lips against hers.

Stupefied, she allowed it. His kiss was a bit aggressive but pleasant. He was kissing her like the last time. But this time, he was sober, right? So why? She was so confused that she didn't react. He eventually pulled away from her, still looking into her eyes. Understanding his mistake, he turned her head away, breaking their closeness. He covered his face, apologizing bitterly.

"Sorry! Forget it, I got a bit... Carried away!" Then he slipped away.

Fathim stood there, in a daze. Why? That was the question tormenting her mind. She sighed. In the end, she would never understand men. Although his behavior frustrated her, she decided to overlook it. She didn't want a new argument. After all, he had accepted, which was a miracle. Feelings could wait. She also left the room to go to hers.