Had someone told Yaseerah a few weeks ago that she would be walking into a non-mahrem’s house alone, fully conscious and of sound mind, Yaseerah would have smiled condescendingly and called it a lie.
But then, had someone told her that she would ever find herself conflicted about her future, she wouldn’t have believed it either.
Or the most surreal thought of all, that she would have someone in her life other than Bilal or Mamu, whom she could run to–when her entire world felt like it was collapsing in on itself–and also let him see her break, Yaseerah wouldn’t have believed it either.
And yet, there she was, walking with sure steps that betrayed nothing of her inner turmoil, her mind and body alert of the ensuing intimacy that came with being in an enclosed space together.
“Yaseerah,” Fulan called out, pausing in his strides, as he reached the main door that led into the detached duplex.
The sound of her name on his lips always made her heart tighten with something akin to grief and longing. How he could stir such emotions within her was a question Yaseerah was afraid she would never get the answer to.
“Are you sure about this?”
“I trust you,” she nodded, even though she wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince between the two of them.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, it was herself she didn’t trust around him.
Fulan hesitated for a bit, before he turned and inputted the passcode into a panel by the door.
When it pinged green, and the door opened, he made no move to walk inside. Instead, his eyes glanced at her briefly, and Yaseerah glanced back, with absolutely no idea of any of his thoughts.
Was he reluctant to have her in his space?
A hollow feeling began to take space in her heart once again. But before she could second-guess herself and her decisions, he smiled warmly at her and gestured for her to walk in before him like the gentleman he was.
“Welcome home.”
Welcome home, two words she both needed and didn’t need to hear from him.
Yaseerah didn’t allow him to see how his words affected her or how hollow they made her feel inside.
Neither of them spoke after that, as she walked into the spacious area, taking in the foyer which had her releasing a soft gasp.
The foyer was a beautiful blend of black and gold finishings which made her think of her wedding dress, along with the lies, the guilt and the pain she was holding in.
Adorned with sleek cream marble flooring, and gold accents which glimmered under the soft ambient lights, the foyer boasted of a timeless elegance and sophistication that cocooned Yaseerah in a homely warmth that left her feeling hollow on the inside.
Elaborate chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystals refracting the light and creating a dance of shimmering patterns across the walls.
Two black pouf stools sat across a large black and gold statement mirror, but despite the beauty of her environment, Yaseerah couldn’t allow herself to fully appreciate it for fear of what it would lead to.
Her thoughts distracted her well enough, she hadn't noticed Fulan move, until he was standing directly in front of her.
“Is something wrong?” he asked gently, his eyes curious as he waited for her reply.
Everything is wrong, she wanted to cry out, but her tone was even, and her smile when it came did not reach her eyes. “No, nothing is wrong.”
“Are you sure?” he pressed, and Yaseerah nodded, avoiding his gaze, not trusting her voice to not betray her.
For some crazy reason, when they began to move farther into the house, Yaseerah’s heart began to pound erratically.
Her ears were throbbing with the rush of blood, her body buzzing with an intensity that made her pause for a bit, Fulan still oblivious to her turmoil.
Composing herself, and forcing all of her thoughts down to the deepest recesses of her mind, Yaseerah followed behind him, another small gasp leaving her lips when they made it into the open-plan area beyond the foyer.
The expansive space was simply breathtaking; bathed in soft, ambient lighting that bounced off of the cream and gold walls, creating an inviting and sophisticated aura that enveloped all of her senses.
A spiral staircase which led to the upper mezzanine level bisected the two zone living area from the dining and kitchen areas.
The living room was adorned with two plush one seater sofas, a love seat and a large cloud sofa with soft throw pillows in different shades of burnt orange, beige, and cream, with gold and black stripes on them.
Pendant lights in warm, amber hues hung gracefully atop the high ceiling, casting a soft glow across the room.
Touches of gold accents adorned the space, subtly reflecting the opulence of the foyer.
Small, tasteful artworks adorned the walls, each piece contributing to the overall atmosphere of understated sophistication.
Yaseerah had seen opulence in interior designs, she’d seen elegance, sophistication, modernism, and a host of other designs but none of them could take a candle to this entire space.
She had never cared much for houses but for the first time in her life, Yaseerah wished this could be hers.
A knife wedged itself deep within her heart and twisted painfully, as she wondered what Fou’ad’s tastes would be, in comparison to Fulan’s. Was he the kind of person who favored opulence over minimalist comfort, or the other way around?
“You have a beautiful home,” she spoke, forcing down the bile of bitterness that had risen in her throat, at the thought of her absentee fiancé.
“Thank you,” Fulan responded, a pinkish hue blossoming across his cheeks which Yaseerah found adorable, distracting her from thoughts of Fou’ad and her future house. “I still think it’s missing something though,” he mused out loud, his gaze pointedly on her.
Like a wife? She wanted to ask, but she bit her lip to keep the bitterness at bay, as she glanced away.
“Would you like anything to drink or eat?” he asked, as he led her into the living room, canting his head slightly, to ensure that she was listening to him.
“Just water, please,” she replied, a deep frown etched on her face, as she cast her gaze upon the white sofas.
“Is something wrong?” he queried, a hint of concern creeping into his voice, though he tried hard to keep his emotions at bay.
“Nothing, I...” she trailed off, shaking her head. Pink blossomed across her cheeks and Fulan’s eyebrows rose, as he wondered what she could be thinking about.
“I don’t want to get the sofas dirty,” she admitted after a beat, gesturing to her dress which was covered with dried blood and dust, refusing to meet his gaze.
A soft laugh escaped his lips, and Yaseerah’s head snapped up in that moment, taking in the laugh lines that crinkled the sides of his eyes.
His laugh had always mesmerized her but his eyes...those brown orbs of his owned her, every inch of her.
The metaphorical knife in her chest twisted once again, and she swallowed past the pain, as she offered him a watery smile.
“The bathrooms are upstairs if you feel uncomfortable sitting here. There's a boutique around the corner, I'll get you some clothes and...”
“You don’t have to,” she cut him off, hating how small and weak her voice sounded.
All he did in response was cock an eyebrow at her, telling her without words that his mind was set, and nothing she said or did would make him reconsider.
The knife wedged deep in her heart began to twist much more painfully, because a part of her wanted this to last for as long as she lived.
How would she ever be able to walk away from this when the time came?
“Would you be okay here alone?” he asked, his voice cutting through the despair threatening to overwhelm her.
“Are you sure about leaving me in your home alone?”
His smile when it came was natural but all it did was make the knife in her chest resume its twisting. It isn’t home without you in it. “What is mine is yours.”
“You can’t say that,” she whispered, placing a hand over her chest, hoping it would ease the pain a little bit.
“I just did.”
Before she could get another word out, he was gone, leaving her in a puddle of messed thoughts and emotions.
The backs of her eyes burned with unshed tears, and she allowed herself another minute of introspection, before she wiped them away, and began the search for a bathroom, his words still ringing loudly in her head.
Had he truly meant what said?
What does it matter? You’re getting married to someone else in a few days, the voice in her head chided sardonically.
Ignoring the voice, she focused on her steps as climbed up to the mezzanine level which opened up to another expansive area, with four doors Yaseerah could only assume led into the bedrooms.
A beige marble table and two white swivel minimalist sofas with burnt orange throw pillows and blanket decorated the area, and when she closed her eyes, Yaseerah could hear the sounds of laughter echoing around the space, as she sat on one of the sofas while her other half occupied the other, as they shared a cup of hot chocolate together.
Don’t! She warned herself, but it was too late. The images kept flooding her head, and she bit her lip hard to stifle the sob that wanted to escape, until she tasted blood.
The first door she tried opened into a bedroom littered with unopened boxes, and she only hung around for a few seconds to wonder what the boxes contained, before she closed it, and tried the handle of the second.
When the door opened, Yaseerah wasn’t surprised to find the room to be equally as beautiful as the rest of the house she’d seen so far.
Lavish gold and shades of royal purple created an atmosphere that was both enchanting and sophisticated.
The walls were adorned with intricate patterns in gold leaf, evoking a sense of timeless grandeur, with luxurious lavender and deep purple curtains framing tall, arched windows, allowing filtered sunlight to flow in, casting a warm, ethereal glow around the entire bedroom.
A sumptuous four-poster bed took center stage, its ornate gold frame intricately carved with delicate motifs while lavender silk drapes cascaded gracefully from the bedposts.
Soft, plush carpets in shades of lavender and gold sprawled underfoot, offering a luxurious texture to every step.
Yaseerah felt like she had stepped into a fairytale and though she didn’t want to think about it, it felt like this room had been specifically designed, with her in mind.
And loathe she was to admit it, Yaseerah absolutely detested the woman who was going to occupy the bedroom, despite Fulan’s promise that no woman would ever call this place her home.
•——۵——•
The next time she opened her eyes, Yaseerah was startled to find out that she had fallen asleep.
Her mind was slow to comprehend the ramifications of her actions but when it caught up to her, Yaseerah immediately jumped to her feet, nausea rolling up in her guts.
It was one thing to agree to come into the house with him, another to agree to stay alone while he went away, another to take a shower in the bathroom, and another thing entirely to sleep on the bed that was meant for another woman.
The feeling of disgust at her actions was so intense, it brought tears to her eyes.
Seeing the shopping bags kept by the door only made the tears stroll down her cheeks faster, because now that her head was clear, she realized she had crossed so many boundaries she should never have attempted to cross if she hadn’t met him.
What would Mamu think if she caught wind of what she had done? What would she think if she knew of what Yaseerah had been up to?
Slipping down onto a heap by the bed, Yaseerah drew her knees to her chest and began to cry harder, mourning the relationship that could never be, and a love she could only fantasize about.
•••
Hi guys, it’s been a minute, I have no excuse except for the fact that Nysc is after my life 😮💨
New update schedule; Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays in shaa Allah
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Love, Jidderh ❤️