NADIRA
My shaky legs carried me to the bed. I sat and trained my eyes on the floor, clutching my hijab. I feel him walk over, and my heart rate picks up. Is this it? Is this how I die?
"Is this the first time we're meeting?" he asks.
I do a double-take to ensure I heard him right before raising my head, "Huh?"
He cocks his head to the side, his face filled with annoyance. He could tell I was confused. I was expecting to have a different conversation.
"It's a yes or no question," he states.
I clear my throat and say, "No."
"And did you consent to this?"
I nod and say, "Yes."
He crosses his arms over his chest and sighs, "Then why are you acting like you've been kidnapped?"
I stare at him and gulp. He didn't look as scary as usual, but still looked intimidating. I needed to figure out if this was a game or if he was really over our tiff.
But as always, his face was not giving anything away, so I gathered all the courage in my body and asked an age-old question, "Are you still mad about our argument?"
He exhaled and uncrossed his arms. "I don't think I can ever get mad at you, Nadira. I was upset and disappointed but not mad."
"You never called," I complain.
He narrowed his eyes at me. "The phone works both ways," he responds.
"I called you!"
"To give me that insincere and forced apology."
The nerve of this man. He has no idea what it took for me to call him and utter, "I'm sorry".
"How would you know my apology wasn't sincere?" I ask, catching an attitude. "Because of you, all my nice clothes were burnt to crisps."
The scary Tayyib returned immediately after I uttered those words. His features hardened, and he gave me that blank but frightening stare. Sometimes, when he did that, it seemed like no person or thought was behind those eyes.
"Leave," he states.
He didn't have to tell me twice. I huffed as I got up and left as quickly as my legs would allow.
"Stupid Tayyib and his infuriating self," I muttered, ripping off my hijab. I stomped into the closet and found an oversized shirt to wear to bed. I brushed my teeth, washed and moisturised my face, and then jumped into bed.
I closed my eyes forcefully and begged for sleep to come. It didn't. I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours before my body gave in.
TAYYIB
The plan was not to go to bed alone, but Nadira was making this way more difficult than it should be. I genuinely cannot tell if she is being stubborn or sincerely believes she's in the right.
Arguments and conflict have never been things I enjoy. I remove myself from them as quickly as possible. I work with facts, not fiction. Feelings do not tie into my judgment. If something is wrong, it is wrong—no ifs, buts or maybes. Well, that is until Nadira appeared. She's had a way of jamming my mind and weaving herself into my thoughts. But, regardless of how she felt due to our argument, she is still in the wrong.
I admit when I am wrong, though I am rarely wrong, and make amends. Why is it so hard for her to do the same?
Cocky much?
"What the hell are you doing here?" Sa'ad asks, barging into my office.
I remove my glasses and give him a pointed look, unhappy with his intrusion.
"Don't give me that look. Mama won't be happy about this," he says, sitting on the settee.
I sigh. "I cut you some slack because you're my twin. Don't make me revoke your privileges," I say, picking up the document I've been reading over for an hour.
"No! Not my twin privileges," he says sarcastically with an eye roll.
I've always been fascinated with his facial expressions. He shows me exactly how I would look to others if I had the same mannerisms as him.
"You've been an adult for a hot minute now, don't you think you should change your repertoire?" I ask.
He shakes his head and stands, "Don't change the subject. Are you still fighting?"
I ignore the question, and he walks forward. He presses his palms on the desk and leans forward. "I told you to fix it."
"I tried," I admit.
"Did you try hard enough?"
"I spoke to her, but she still seems convinced she was right."
He groans and smacks his forehead. "Did you explain to her?"
I click my tongue and raise a brow. "Do I need to? I'm pretty sure she was there."
"You are infuriating! Your logic makes no sense!" He yells.
"My logic makes perfect sense," I reply.
He groans again. "Ok, let's look at it this way. How did her actions make you feel?"
"Disappointed," I answered, combing over the paper in hand.
"Great. Express your disappointment. Tell her in detail why you were disappointed," he suggests.
"And what after that?" I ask.
"Then you talk it out. She can tell you how she felt, and you can reach common ground," he responded.
More feelings? Yuck.
I put the paper down and pinch the skin between my eyes. "I'll try."
"That's the spirit!" He yells, grinning from ear to ear. "Let's go home. It's lunchtime."
"I'm not hungry," I answer.
"Let's go home before Mama notices you left your bride at home and came to work," he says.
"I'll be right behind you," I lie.
"You know she'll come down here and drag you by the ear. Spare yourself the embarrassment in front of your employees," he says.
I give in, and we speed home.
"I'll go change," I say as we exit our vehicles and Sa'ad nods.
The house is just as quiet as when I lived alone. I walked to my office to put down the paperwork I had brought home. Upon entering, I noticed Nadira on my chair with her arms crossed. Her eyes fell on mine, and she grimaced.
I walked further into the room, and she stood up. "Your aunts and cousins were just here. My grandmother came in the morning," she announced blandly. "I told them you were sick."
"Thank you," I say, drawing a file cabinet and putting in the papers.
"When we first met, you said you are a workaholic and don't want to be nagged about it. I agreed to that because we had a contract, but it is no longer in effect now, so I will complain about it freely," she says.
I stare at her. "I see," I reply.
"You left me all alone. You didn't even bother to text or leave a note. And you went to work of all places. I would have understood if you had gone to meet up with some hookers," she vents.
"Hookers?"
"Yes. Hookers!"
"I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry for not texting or calling," I say.
"Apology not accepted," she says, leaving the room.
I sigh and massage my temple. Nadira was indeed something else. Hookers? She wouldn't have minded if I went to meet up with hookers, but work is where she draws the line?
I change into a black kaftan before heading to the main house for lunch.
Nadira is, of course, seated in between Amna and Laila. They're whispering and giggling as usual. Everyone else, except Kausar and Zayn, who aren't present, is on their phone while waiting for the food to be served.
"Tayyib, are you feeling better?" Mama asks once she notices me.
"Yes, Mama. Much better," I lie.
"Toh Alhamdullilah," she responds.
I sit beside Junaid, who puts his head on my shoulder.
"What's the meaning of this?" I ask, pushing his head, but he only snuggles into me more.
"Can't I miss my older brother?" He asks.
"Go do it to Rayan. His shoulders are available," I reply, pushing his head again, but he doesn't budge.
Rayan violently shakes his head and pulls Manal closer to him. Yasir and Sa'ad got a good laugh, and Owais took a few pictures.
I sigh and pull out my phone.
"Where's Zayn?" Sa'ad asks Yasir as the maids begin serving.
Yasir presses his fingers to his forehead, pretending to be in deep thought. "My twin senses tell me he's on a romantic date with his wife."
Sa'ad, Junaid and Rayan clap dramatically. "Your turn, Sa'ad. What is Tayyib thinking right now?" Junaid asks.
Sa'ad reaches his hands out to me. "Hold my hands," he says, and I give him an annoyed look. "Come on! Don't be like this. Nadira, tell him to take my hands."
She whips her head up and smirks. She stands, walks over to me, then crouches by my ear and whispers, "Take his hands, or I'll tell Mama where you really were this morning."
Reluctantly, I grab Sa'ad's hands, and he grins. "Thank you," he says to her, and she smiles.
"What did you do?" Owais asks, bewildered.
"I threatened him," she responds smugly.
He closes his eyes and then opens them abruptly. "Tayyib is thinking about Nadira's threats," he says with a sly smile, and everyone laughs.
Mama laughs as well and gives Nadira a thumbs up. "Your twin telepathy is on point," she says to Sa'ad.
"My turn," Junaid says. He reaches over the table and grabs Owais' hand. "Think of a number and whisper it to Sa'ad."
Owais does as asked and turns to Junaid. "Is the number 57?" Junaid asks, and Sa'ad gasps.
"How did you do that?" Sa'ad asks.
"Telepathy," they say simultaneously.
"Nah, there has to be something else," Rayan chimes in.
"You just wouldn't understand, Rays." Yasir says and Rayan hisses.
They do this for the entirety of lunch, and they guess right every time. Nadira almost had an aneurysm when it was her turn to hear the secret number from Owais.
Mama had watched silently with a smile, and I had gotten bored of it instantly.
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