Shame was a foreign emotion to Fulan, yet it gripped him daily in the presence of the dark-haired beauty peacefully asleep in the room he’d specifically designed, with her in mind.
Despite his good intentions, shame washed over him for inviting her into his house without a mahrem in sight—a forbidden act that could jeopardize her integrity in the face of society, if ever discovered.
But when she had arrived, looking distressed and seeking refuge, turning her away felt unthinkable.
Dropping the shopping bags on the kitchen island, a heavy sigh escaped his lips, empathy and worry settling deep in his chest, the more he thought of her.
Yaseerah had always looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, her face carrying a weariness to it that no teenager should have to experience, and not for the first time since he met her, Fulan wanted to destroy everything that stood between her and her happiness.
When she padded into the kitchen moments later, wearing the clothes he bought her, Fulan couldn’t deny a surge of pride that lit him from within.
The feelings of shame and apprehension faded at the sight of her lithe frame, and he knew he’d do whatever it took, just to have her in space.
“You’re awake, perfect timing,” his lips lifted into a smile, as he began to dish out the takeouts onto the kitchen island. “I made you hot chocolate, it’s not as good as Charme tea but I hope you like it. Also, I hope you like Chinese food, I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got a bit of everything from their menu today.”
Yaseerah took a seat on one of the stools, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the island so she didn’t have to look at him.
Fulan was bustling around the kitchen barefooted, humming a tune she didn’t recognize and the simplicity of the moment made her heart squeeze so painfully, it was all she could do not to allow a sob escape her lips.
Pain is weakness leaving the body, she repeated in her head like a mantra, as she took a slow sip of the hot chocolate Fulan had just dropped in front of her.
“Yaseerah?”
“Yes?”
“Is something wrong?”
“No.” She hated how weak her voice sounded, as her lips trembled, the backs of her eyes burning, as she fought to keep her tears at bay.
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
Because you make me want things I have no right wanting.
Sniffling, Yaseerah concealed the sound with a fake cough, but Fulan, ever perceptive when it came to her, had noticed.
Without hesitation, he circled the island, and came to stand in front of her, towering over her.
When she continued to sniffle, refusing to talk or even look at him, Fulan began to panic.
He wanted to touch her, to embrace her, or to do anything that’ll help in calming her down but he knew that it’ll be taking it too far. As it stood, he had crossed a lot of boundaries when it came to her, and the last thing he wanted was to cross more.
Settling on a compromise, he crouched before her, keeping his hands balled by his sides despite the urge to hold her getting stronger by the seconds.
“Talk to me, please.”
“I...” she hiccupped, unable to form a coherent response.
Some people realized they had fallen in love through the butterflies that took flight in their stomachs but for Yaseerah, it was the pain of it that made her realize just how far she had fallen.
Her fingers tightened against her knees to the point of pain, but she paid no heed to it. She swallowed past the sob trapped between the columns of her throat, cursing the day she met him, cursed his smiles that turned her head, and the gentle ways he treated her.
Inhaling deeply, and pushing all of her thoughts and emotions back into the box in her head, she pushed the stool back, putting some distance between them.
Yaseerah wanted to look at him as she stepped away, but she didn’t want him to see how heartbroken she was, or how much it hurt her to step away from his embrace.
“I should get going,” she said after a while, uncertainty in her eyes, when she glanced back at him. “I’ve already burdened you enough.”
He shook his head, dispelling her hesitation. “You’ll never be a burden to me, Yaseerah.”
“I shouldn’t be here,” she said, risking a glance at him. “My presence is tainting someone else’s space...”
“Wallahi Yaseerah no woman will ever call this house her home, except for you,” Fulan vowed, cutting her off.
A tiny sob escaped her lips before she had the chance to stop it, and all she could do was stare at him, as she processed his promise to her.
Her heart was at odds with her mind, as it so often did whenever she was with him.
How could something feel so right yet wrong at the same time?
Fulan’s phone buzzing on the countertop distracted her for a second, and when she saw her photo as his phone’s wallpaper, fear and hope flared across her heart.
“Why?” she whispered, hating herself for the warmth she felt.
Fulan glanced at his phone, dismissing the call, before he stared at her for a long moment, like he was debating whether to respond or not. “You know why.”
For some reason, he needed her to come to her own conclusion, like saying his feelings out loud would merely be empty words from him, because no words could ever do justice for the way he felt about her.
Yaseerah shook her head, taking a step back, and another, and another, as tears began to slide down her cheeks in tandem.
“No,” she shook her head again, her voice firm, despite the tears that kept running down her cheeks.
“No,” she reiterated when his gaze clashed with hers. “You can’t. We can’t.”
A long tension filled moment passed between them, as they simply gazed at each other, their eyes conveying the truth their lips refused to say.
All Yaseerah could think in that moment was how she had doomed both of them. If only she had been selfless enough to put a stop to things before they had reached this point, then none of this would have happened.
She wouldn’t have been feeling like her heart and soul were being ripped to shreds, neither would she have ever questioned her loyalty to the man who deserved neither her love or her loyalty.
Fou’ad had made it clear with his actions that he didn’t want her. And Fulan stood, before her, his eyes mirroring the love she felt from within, the love she was trying so hard to squander.
Was an apology enough for all the heartache she was going to put him through when he finds out the truth about her?
“Fulan, I...” she choked back on another sob, unable to finish her sentence. She continued to stare at him, even as tears made her vision blurry, hoping that he understood the apology in her gaze. “This isn’t right.”
“It is right, Yaseerah. It just isn’t right, now.”
Fulan made no further attempt to fill the air between them with empty words, because he knew she had a lot on her mind and he needed to let her get it out. But when he saw how she struggled to get her words out, he knew he had to make his own confession.
“I never knew that love had a sound, until I heard you laugh for the first time and if I hadn’t been sure about anything, in that moment, I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life making sure that you always had a reason to laugh.”
Logically, he knew he was keeping his distance because he had crossed enough boundaries between them but everything about her posture and tone screamed of how confused and hurt she was. And it physically hurt him not to go to her because all he wanted to do was hold her in his embrace.
“Fulan,” she whispered, his name a desperate plea on her lips, unable to say anything else.
“You deserve to be with someone who can make you feel loved, wanted, safe, someone who will always welcome you with open arms, but above all, you deserve someone who can make you feel valued and...”
“And you think you can be that person?”
“I don’t just think I am that person Yaseerah, I know that I am.”
The conviction in his voice, and the stubborn glint in his eyes made Yaseerah choke back a sob.
Desperately, she wanted it all to be true. She wanted to believe him but she knew that it could never be.
“No.”
Fulan’s lips curved into a smile, like he knew something that she didn’t. Yaseerah had always loved his smiles but in that moment, when it felt like her heart was being shredded into tiny pieces, all it did was fill her with dread and barely restrained anguish.
“The food is getting cold, should we eat here or in the living room?”
His words hung in the air between them, taking a moment to register in Yaseerah’s mind.
And when they did, she found herself staring at his retreating back as he headed towards the microwave, flipping the switch, for the first time, thinking if he had actually lost his mind.
After a long moment of silence, Yaseerah found her voice, the firmness in it surprising even herself. “Take me home.”
“Yaseerah, I...”
“It wasn’t a question.”
•—۵—•
The ride back to Yaseerah’s house in Asokoro was done in painful tension-filled silence, neither of them glancing or speaking to the other.
Yaseerah hated the fact that they were parting on such terms–even though he was still unaware–but she knew that it had to be done.
Her father would never go back on his word, and neither would he ever allow her to live for disgracing him once again. Mamu would also not survive it.
When he parked the car right in front of the gates of Bako manor, Yaseerah found it hard to alight from the car, knowing that this was going to be the end.
She glanced at his right hand, which he still kept on the steering wheel, noting how short and clean his long fingers were, in comparison to hers.
Her gaze slowly trailed up, from his fingers to his face, starting from his strong jawline, the full lips she’d never admit she was a bit jealous of, the slightly crooked nose, and finally the playful brown eyes that had gotten to her from the moment they’d met.
Her eyes flicked back to his lips, and she stared at them for a moment longer, before she glanced back at her hands.
A huge weight was slowly amassing against her chest, and it took her a moment to find her voice. “I should get going.”
“You should.”
Through her peripheral vision, she saw him nod, but neither of them made a move.
Seconds passed, stretching the silence between them further. Slowly, she focused all of her attention on removing her seatbelt, which proved to difficult.
She struggled with the latch for a moment before Fulan leaned in, and unclasped it for her, his fingers accidentally brushing her sides for a bare second which made her inhale sharply which in turn had him freezing, both of their hands holding the seatbelt.
Yaseerah didn’t dare breath, for fear of having her chest brushing against his arms.
He was close, so close that she knew if she were to turn for just the barest of inches, her lips would brush against his.
And Yaseerah hated the fact that she was thinking it, and the fact that her heart was racing far more wildly than it had ever done in her entire life.
This new predicament gave a new meaning to the tension that had gripped them since she’d told him to take her home.
She heard him clear his throat before he retreated back to his seat, and only then did Yaseerah allow herself to breathe.
“Thank you for giving me forever in three weeks,” she whispered, as she set one delicate foot out onto the pavement.
“Why does this feel like goodbye?” he asked softly, and the softness in his voice almost made her waiver.
Because it is.
Instead, all she could do was take one last look at him before she stepped completely out of the car, and walked away without another glance because she knew that if she did, she would never have the courage to leave.
She didn’t hang around to hear him drive off. Walking away on measured yet unsteady feet, she sensed the loss of another piece of herself, which she would never be able to get back.
When she made it past the gates, Yaseerah didn’t have it in her to sleuth her way into the manor. If her father wanted to punish her for leaving without his permission, then so be it.