Yaseerah scrolled through the endless notifications on her phone, surprised that the battery had held for over 48 hours without dying.
Leaving most of the messages unread, she plugged her phone to charge and began to hunt for the other items she had come to collect, knowing that any minute from now, Lubna was sure to interrupt her.
And the last thing she needed was for Lubna to report her to her father, or for her to be caught in the act.
Slipping away had been easier than she thought it would be; Fou’ad had excused himself to pick up a call, Lubna had gone back to the kitchen to check on the food, and her father had been called into his home office.
Shedding her coat and sheila–exposing her arms and the multiple bruises on them–she knelt inside her closet, beginning the tiring task of prying open the loose floorboard to dig out the treasure she’d hidden beneath.
Pulling out the large shoebox, she sat back on her hunches, trying to regulate her breathing, her mind racing a mile minute.
She had no idea what she was going to do, if she was unable to raise enough money to pay for Mamu’s medical bills.
Bilal no doubt would blame her once again and it would sour their relationship once again.
No, she wouldn’t allow that to happen.
She would sell everything she owned, if it meant Mamu would be alright again.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the box, setting aside the fake passports she had spent great fortune to get for the three of them.
The gold jewelry set she had taken from her father’s safe in his office (which had prompted him to divorce wife number 4) stared at her in accusation, and she set those aside too, picking up the loose changes–in different currencies–she had managed to nick off of her shopping sprees.
It was in this state that Fou’ad found her, seated amidst different notes, opened jewelry boxes scattered across from her feet, and five different international passports clutched in her hands.
His gaze swept over the scene, taking in the unusual sight before him.
Yaseerah sprang to her feet, a surge of adrenaline propelling her upright. Her heart hammered in her chest, threatening to burst through her ribcage.
She could feel a lump forming in her throat as her eyes flickered nervously between the damning evidence strewn across the closet floor and Fou’ad’s stunned silhouette looming in the doorway.
“Fou’ad it’s...” she swallowed, unable to articulate any coherent explanation, her mind racing with the implications of being caught in the act.
“What’s this? What’s going on?” he asked, his face twisting with a mix of confusion, concern, and a hint of betrayal, as he stumbled back a step, his eyes widening in shock as he tried to make sense of the scene before him.
His mind raced, trying to connect some dots, to understand why his wife was kneeling amidst scattered jewelry and passports, his heart aching with the realization that he had no idea who he had fallen in love with.
But it wasn’t the jewelry or the passports or the money that held most of his attention. It was the blue and purple bruises decorating her arms like tattoos that held most of his attention.
“Yaseerah?” His voice was small, filled with so much emotion, it almost brought her to tears.
“Did I... did I do this to you?” His gaze was still fixated on her bruised arms, his heart sinking with guilt.
The possibility of him being the one to have hurt her in such a way... He couldn’t even begin to fathom what he would do.
He tried to think if at any point during the wedding or the night before he had held her by the arms forcefully, but nothing came to mind. His thoughts a jumbled mess. Not knowing whether he had been the one to hurt or not made his heart twist painfully.
“No!” Yaseerah’s eyes widened in alarm, quickly shaking her head, her eyes darting between the scattered items on the floor and his tortured expression.“No, Fou’ad, you didn’t.”
“You will tell me, if I did though, right?” his eyes were manic with desperation and glassy as he looked into her eyes, searching them for a hint of truth. “If I ever hurt you... You’ll—”
“Fou’ad,” she cut him off, taking a hesitant step towards him, every inch of reservation she felt melting away in the face of his distress.
Distress for her.
Distress for something he thought he had done to her.
If Yaseerah hadn’t been in love with him all this while, this moment would have made her fall in love with him. But as it stood, it made her fall for him even harder, breathlessly so.
“It wasn’t you,” she said softly, cupping his cheeks with both of her palms, and forcing him to look at her, to see the truth in her eyes. “It wasn’t you.”
“Then... Who? Give me a name.” Fou’ad pressed, his voice tinged with desperation and fear.
“It’s not what you think, I...” Yaseerah stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, as she dropped her hands away from his face, shifting her weight from one foot to the other uneasily. “I... I fell…” she trailed off again, taking a safe step back, away from his intoxicating scent, and his keen observant eyes.
“Don’t lie to me, Yaseerah, please. Tell me what happened, I need to know, please.”
“It’s nothing, Fou’ad. It was just...” Yaseerah bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the floor, hesitating for a brief moment. She knew she couldn’t keep the truth from him any longer, but the words as always were stuck in her throat. “Just a misunderstanding. I’m fine, really.”
Fou’ad reached out, gently lifting her chin to meet his gaze. “Who hurt you? Please, don’t keep this from me.”
Tears welled up in Yaseerah’s eyes as she struggled to find the words, and she blinked them back, pushing past the huge lump that had lodged itself in her throat. “It’s... it’s complicated, Fou’ad. Please, I don’t want to get you involved in this.”
“Are you in danger?”
His whispered words had her stomach sinking, a wave of vertigo shivering through her.
All of the air deflated from her body, her forehead pinching in concentration, as she chose her words carefully, trying to avoid lying to him directly.
“Not anymore,” her words rushed out on a shredded breath, prompting a raging fire to erupt inside him, rushing to the surface and searing across his skin.
“Yaseerah...” he swallowed, hesitantly reaching out to touch her but clasping a palm over his lips to keep him from sobbing, or screaming or both.
When she raised her gaze to meet his, the horror she saw etched in those beautiful brown orbs of his made her heart pound so hard it hurt.
“Please, I don’t want to talk about this, not right now at least. I have about a dozen problems I need to sort through. I do not want to open that can of worms, okay?”
Fou’ad reached out and pulled her into his arms, holding her close, hurting for her, for the life she had to live, and the things she had to endure, things he still didn’t know about.
“Yaseerah, you don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here for you, always. Please, let me help you. I’m your husband, if you don’t trust me enough to get me involved in your affairs, then what’s the point of our relationship?”
Yaseerah had no idea what to do or say, so she slid her hands around his hips, pressing her head against his chest, and listening to his thundering heartbeat.
Their bodies were lined up from knees to chest, and even with their clothes on, she could feel the weight and heat of him seeping into her.
She closed her eyes, and tilted her face up to his, not quite kissing him, and not wanting him to kiss her either.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered shakily, her eyes fluttering open. “I know this isn’t what you signed up for when you agreed to marry me.”
“I didn’t agree to marry you, Yaseerah.”
“Wha... Wha... What do you mean?” she pulled back to stare at him, confusion and apprehension clear in her eyes. Her heart was thrashing wildly against her chest and she knew that he could feel it, being pressed tightly the way they were, but she couldn’t find the strength to put distance between them. Not anymore.
Butterflies had no reason to take flight in his gut in that moment when he realized she hadn’t completely left the circle of his arms, neither was the warmth that began to blossom from his heart, spreading slowly to every inch of his body.
“There was nothing to agree about,” he uttered softly, his fingertips grazing her jaw. “It was a matter of choice, and I chose you, I will always choose you.”
His eyes were so intense as he stared down at her, Yaseerah couldn’t decide whether she wanted to look away, or not look away.
“The first time I laid my eyes on you, it felt like a part of me always wanted to have you,” he whispered earnestly. “My heart stopped searching for anything else the moment it found you.”
Feeling emotional, she snuggled into his chest once again, feeling small and safe in his arms, as he rubbed one hand over her back, running the other down the length of her arm.
“I—”
A soft knock on her door interrupted them both, and Yaseerah peered over Fou’ad’s shoulder, her body tensing slightly as she stared at her door.
When the door was pushed open, and Lubna’s face appeared at the doorway, she released the breath she didn’t know she was holding, her shoulders sagging with relief.
“Can I help you?” Yaseerah’s voice was frosty, and Fou’ad stared down at her for a brief second before he turned to see who was at the door.
Seeing Yaseerah’s stepmother twirling her fingers nervously as she stared at them had him swivelling to stare at his wife, silently observing the interaction with curiosity and apprehension.
“Brunch is ready,” Lubna uttered, her gaze still fixed on them, before it swept over Yaseerah’s arms, noting the discoloration on them, but choosing not to comment on them.
“Let’s go,” Yaseerah blew out a breath, extracting herself from Fou’ad’s hold, and heading towards her bed to pick up her coat and Sheila, putting them on without a backwards glance to Lubna.
When she turned and found her still standing at the doorway, her lips curled into a sneer before she smoothed down her expression when she felt Fou’ad’s gaze on her.
“Should we—”
“My father does not appreciate tardiness,” she uttered, cutting him off, as she stood besides him once again.
Though her words were wooden, when she tilted her head to gaze at him, there was a hint of vulnerability in her eyes as she hesitated for only a brief second before she slipped her fingers into his palm.
The vulnerability and strange childishness he saw in her eyes had Fou’ad’s free hand flexing by his side, as he came to the startling realization that her maturity wasn’t something she had chosen but something that had been enforced on her, killing the child inside of her, and it made him hurt even more for her.
“Are you sure it’s okay for us to join them? Just say the word, and we’ll leave,” he whispered softly, so only Yaseerah could hear him.
Yaseerah’s grip on his hand tightened slightly, her eyes flickering with apprehension towards Lubna who stood like a sentinel across from them. She nodded, forcing a small smile. “Thank you, Lubna. We’ll be right there.”
“Are you sure?” he turned to her, when Lubna huffed and disappeared from view, the door slamming shut behind her.
Yaseerah hesitated, torn between her desire to maintain appearances and her overwhelming need to escape the suffocating atmosphere of her father’s house.
“My father is not a patient man,” she said, her voice steady, as she squeezed his hand gently. “He won’t take kindly to us leaving right now.”
“Yaseerah—”
“Please, just trust me.”
“It was him wasn’t it?” he asked softly, running his knuckles across her cheek reverently.
His words and touch were at odds with the raging storm inside of him, as she tensed even further, proving without words yet again that he had truly misjudged the entire Bako family, and so had his parents.
“Please.”
The desperate plea that left her lips had another bout of rage coursing through him, but Fou’ad nodded, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”
Tendrils of warmth unfurled inside her at his words, spiraling along her arms, between my chest, and around her spine once again.
***
Hello guys, how have you been? It’s been a minute, I know, I’m sorry 😐. I just wanted a one week break but life happened and here we are 🤭.
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See you next time.
Xoxo, Jidderh ❤️