Saved by my nightmare (A Nigerian Story)

CHAPTER 47

The Nikkah was slated to take place on the 10th, three days from the present.

The last he'd spoken to Rumaysa, she'd told him she hadn't informed Maliya of the Nikkah.

Rayyan knew what she was afraid of, seeing as he dreaded it also but he'd told her to tell Maliya before it became too late.

......Maliya.

A deep sigh escaped Rayyan as she invaded his thoughts yet again.

He'd found himself getting more lost in thoughts of her in recent times. Since he'd begun conversing with her, the feelings he'd hoped would subside were hell bent on going against him.

Against his will and better judgement, he'd fallen into a world of unprecedented doom disguised in the form of his deep likeness for the woman.

He hated how hope had begun to take root in his heart, how the feelings he'd been fighting overwhelmed him.

As cringey as it was, his heart which had never wavered from his conviction trembled with emotions he didn't want to give into.

But what caused fear to engulf him was how much comfort the entire situation brought him, how at ease he was with letting Maliya invade his thoughts, how much he wanted her to see the parts of him he never wanted anyone to see.

He had a strong compulsion to tell her the most insignificant things that went on in his daily life.

He lived for the excitement in her voice as she spoke to him about her day, and whenever she was depressed about the loss of a patient, there was this need that blossomed in his chest.

His chest would constrict tightly as he visualised tears glistening in her hazel eyes, those hazels that killed him.

Rayyan truly couldn't handle it.

Couldn't handle the kind of things she made him want to do.

He longed for things with her that he'd never had thought his heart was capable of wanting.

He rarely ever dreamed, but on the few occasions he did, her thoughts followed him from reality into his dreams.

She'd always come to him, a bewitching smile on her chubby cheeks on which he longed to pepper kisses.

He'd casually lick the indent on her right cheek, warmth flooding his heart as she'd flick him on the forehead as she struggled to contain her giggles.

Sometimes he'd be working on his laptop and she'd wrap her arms around his neck, nuzzling her face in his neck.

If he didn't turn back to look at her, she'd poke his cheek continuously till he turned back to look at her, and once he did, she'd press a kiss on his lips and a sloppy one on his cheek, and in that soft voice she reserved for him alone whisper 'that's my revenge, habibi'.

The last dream he had of her, she was humming a tune as she stood washing dishes against the sink.

She draped a black Abayah over her body, a blue headscarf slung on her shoulders.

Her hair had been tied up in a bun but wisps of hair escaped, plastered to her temples.

Rayyan stood by the doorway for a moment, gazing at his wife.

As if being pulled to her, he took some steps until he was pressed against her back, arms circling around her.

His arms brushed against the bulge of her stomach, head coming to rest in the crook of her neck as she gazed at him hoodedly, her lashes blinking against hazel eyes.