Bitter Sweet | (Published) ✔

{11} Pancakes

Ibrahim Tarkan

The morning sun peeked through my windows. I put an arm over my eyes, trying to block it. Tasneem and I had woken up a couple hours earlier to pray and then we fell back asleep. I sighed as I thought of my wife. She really was special and different compared to most. Last night, even though I bawled like a child, she didn't say anything. She didn't lie and tell me she understood what I went through. She didn't pretend to care.

She actually proved that she did. She held me as I tried to get rid of those agonizing thoughts. I gave her a separate room because I didn't want Tasneem to witness me in my darkest hours. I had to conceal that part of me from her.

How many girls in the world actually want to deal with so much emotional baggage from their husband? Probably not too many, yet she ran to my room as soon as she heard my silent cries.

God, I felt so fucking weak in front of her last night.

I knew I wasn't weak given the past I had endured, but that didn't stop me from thinking. I still remembered how good her arms felt around me and how tightly she held me as if I might disappear if she didn't.

Her voice was soft and soothing, luring me away from my demons. She was an angel, a perfectly innocent girl. I reached my arm out to pull Tasneem closer to me, but instead touched her pillow.

My eyes jolted open, searching frantically for my wife. I sprinted out of the room, running down the steps as I felt my heart race. Did someone take her? Did that man actually find me? Questions were riling within me and I had no answers to them. I searched through all the rooms that I passed. Still, there was no sign of Tasneem. Fuck, why did I have to buy such a big house? I'm such an idiot, I thought.

"Bashir!" I yelled out. Surely, he would know where she went.

"Over here!" he shouted back. His voice came from the kitchen.

I walked towards the kitchen, hearing laughter and muffled voices. As I walked in, I saw Bashir sitting on a stool, resting his arms on the marble counter. A bright smile was on his face as he laughed at whatever it was Tasneem was saying. Relief flooded me as I saw her wearing her typical white hijab. It was wrapped loosely around her head, her back was towards me. She mixed some batter and poured a perfect circle onto the pan.

"And then I sprayed the hose at Amira, who was not quite happy from getting her brand new hijab soaked," grinned Tasneem as she turned to face Bashir.

Immediately, her light brown eyes locked on to mine. Her eyes widened at the sight of me. I looked down and realized that I was shirtless and only in sweatpants. The room had gotten too hot so after Fajr (morning prayer) I took my shirt off. Tasneem was too tired to even notice, however, now her eyes were trailing down my body. I noticed the top she was wearing really outlined her curves. I remembered how good her soft body felt against me.

She bit her lip as her eyes reached back up to meet mine. I really wanted to kiss her. There was a string that was pulling me straight to her. The urge to kiss the hell out of Tasneem was driving me insane. Through all our stolen moments, I didn't even get to taste those delectable lips.

Knock Knock.

"Bashir, answer the door," I told him, not moving my eyes from my wife.

Bashir groaned, jumping down from his stool. "I always have to answer the door," he mumbled.

I ruffled his black hair. "Sorry, kiddo," I smiled down at him.

He pushed my hand away, pretending to bite it.

"Didn't I tell you to stop biting me when you were four?" I asked him with raised eyebrows.

He shrugged, "Possibly."