Aarib's POV
The rush of adrenaline was a really familiar feeling to me now. Almost like a best friend. Even now, as I unlocked the door and opened it wide, I could feel the thrashing of my heart in my chest, and the guilt settling inside of me again for what happened to Haya because of me.
As the door flew open, my eyes widened in shock at who was standing before me.
Areesha.
My sister.
"Hi. Selam." She smiled big and bright, her warm deep brown eyes shining with affection.
I couldn't speak. I was most definitely taken aback by her sudden visit, which seemed to also render me speechless. Then suddenly a sick thought crossed my mind.
"Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?" I took her hand and pulled her into the room and then locking the door again. From what I could tell, she didn't look hurt. In fact, she looked cheerful. . .happy, as she completely ignored my worry and held out a hand to Haya.
"Selam, Haya. I am Areesha," my sister chirped, shaking her small hand with Haya's. I watched realization dawn on my wife, and a smile lit her face.
"Walaikum Assalam, Areesha, how are you?" Haya grinned.
Baffled, is how I will describe my state.
Why do these two women look like they've been best friends since a very long time? Grinning and smiling as if they were reunited after ages of separation.
"I'm good. I had to meet my brother's wife. And I know I already like you," Areesha gushed, tucking a strand of her short, purple hair behind her ear. She really couldn't just settle with blonde. I shook my head at her funky hair color.
"How'd you know where I was, and who dropped you off?" I raised a brow in suspicion. My blood went cold at the possibility. . . "Please don't tell me you came here alone," I groaned.
"I didn't come here alone, obviously. There's a car waiting for me outside the hotel. Feroze told me about your marriage, so did you really think I wasn't gonna come meet Haya?"
My brows pulled together. "So, who did you come here with?"
She gave me a 'duh' look. "Feroze, you dumb person. He never lets me travel alone. Even with his guards." I opened my mouth to tell her she couldn't just bring Feroze here with her, but she turned towards Haya—who looked like she just saw a ghost—and pulled her in a hug. "I know what my brother did to you—Feroze—and I apologize to you for his behavior. I know a lame apology won't do justice to what you had to go through, but I am really hoping this won't affect us. I would still like to be friends with you."
Haya peered up at me. I gave her a small smile. She awkwardly patted Areesha's back, and I wanted to laugh at this situation. Instead, I bit my lip and looked away, stifling even the tiny chuckle that could ruin Haya's mood. I wanted my wife to get along my sister, know her pretty well.
After a few seconds Haya pulled back and I saw something cross her eyes. Understanding, maybe?
"What happened wasn't your fault. Why would it affect our relation?"
My sister shrugged her small shoulders. "Sometimes people are like that. And considering I don't know you, I can't really tell if we're on good terms or not."
Confusion shone in Haya's brown eyes. "I don't hate you if that's what you're trying to know."
"I'm glad." Areesha smiled.
Okay, enough with the deep talks. "Ladies," I cleared my throat. Haya raised her intelligently curious eyes at me while Areesha turned around. She reminded me a lot of my mother with the same jet black hair they shared and the forest green eyes that reminded me of gardens with blossoming flowers. "I have somewhere I need to be right now. But. . .Areesha you can't be here with Haya while I am out. Feroze is waiting for you and I don't trust him. You can come back later."
Areesha's mouth formed an 'o'. Her shoulders sagged and guilt bloomed inside of me. I hated being like this—stopping my own sister from these little things. But I couldn't risk Haya's life. Not when Feroze was literally just down in the parking lot of the hotel.
"She can stay," Haya interjected. I narrowed my eyes at her in silent warning. She had a will of iron, not easily going to back out, I see. "You can go wherever you have to and take as much time you want. Areesha will give me company."
My jaw ticked as a thousand different scenarios crossed through my head. "Haya, do not argue on this one. Okay? I didn't give you a choice."
"No, Aarib is right," Areesha turned to Haya and gave her a brief goodbye hug, letting her delicate hands hover over Haya's shoulders. I could tell Haya was trying her best to compose calm. She was mad angry at me. But it's not like I was purposely trying to keep them apart. I had to make sure my wife was safe. From my own brother. How ironic.
"You can come back tomorrow. I'll have Alessandro pick you up. Don't bring Feroze here again, alright?" I bent forward to grab my car keys from the bed. "Where are you guys staying?"
Haya smiled a painful smile at Areesha and excused herself a bathroom break. My eyes followed her every move, the way she was walking with an attitude. I bit back a grin and began putting on my sneakers. I wasn't going for business, so there was no need to dress classy.
"Not far from here," Areesha shrugged. Her eyes curiously took in the hotel room, stopping on the punching bag and the gloves that were scattered on the floor. There was blood on them—she noticed and her eyes snapped to my hands.
I closed my eyes. "Don't." I wasn't in the mood for a quick scolding session by my fifteen year old sister.
"I didn't say anything." She held up her hands in surrender. "But you don't live alone now. You should not make Haya uncomfortable."
I scoffed loudly. "Haya is far from uncomfortable around me, little sister. She has never flinched away from the sight of blood." All those times when I showed up to school with ugly bruises and damaged knuckles, she always seemed more drawn towards me. That was one of the many things about Haya I couldn't fathom. She was so different, so unique in numerous ways. I sure was a damn lucky man.
I heard the shower run. Did she even take her clothes inside?
"She looks a bit dazed. Don't give her a hard time."
"I know," I snapped. "Why don't you ask your brother why he would do such a sick thing and tell father everything, huh? And not only that, he even has the nerve to take her to him and then me." I pointed a finger at my face. "You see this? This is what he did to me and my wife. I don't think there would ever be a time when I could stop blaming myself for what Haya had to endure."
A heavy expression clouded her features. Damn it. Her eyes get glazed—perfect, now I made her cry.
"Hey," I hoisted myself up and went up to her, wrapping my arms around her. Her shoulders shook, making my heart skip a beat. "You know I hate it when you cry."
"I feel bad for Haya," she mumbled against my shoulder. I noticed she was standing on her tips to hug me back. "They shouldn't have laid a hand on her. She's a woman! What kind of monsters are in our family. . ."
"The worst kind," I admitted. "But hey, I won't ever be like them. I will make sure our family has men that are honorable, who don't raise even their voices on women. I will do it for our coming generation. I will raise my kids to be good. InshaAllah."
She pulled back and wiped at her tears. When she raised her eyes to look at me, I felt my heart break into a million pieces. I wanted her to stay with me, because I still didn't trust Feroze. I didn't know why he wanted our sister, or what motive he had in mind, but my heart wasn't at peace when it came to my sister.
"I should get going. Next time I will make sure to bring a present for her. What does she like?" Areesha pulled me out of my reverie, deep in thought.
A very good question. What does Haya even like? Damn, I have no idea. Make-up? Jewellery? Nah, not jewellery. She never wears any except for some simple studs and from now onwards the ring that marks her mine. Only mine. That will keep the filthy men away from her. And once I make it official that Haya is mine, only mine, there's not gonna be a single prick that would even cast their eyes her way.
"Just get her a perfume?"
"Are you asking me or telling me?"
"Uh, both?"
She rolled her eyes in that total annoyed teenage way. I pressed my lips together. "You don't even know what your wife likes?" she asked. "Don't you pay attention to what she admires, wants, needs?"
I dropped my head on a sigh, braced my arms on my knees and flexed my fingers. Ah. Painful.
"She doesn't like gifts from what I have gathered. Just get her pizza. That'd be enough," I said.
Areesha laughed. "Nice. Okay. See you."
When Areesha left, simultaneously the shower stopped, silence following the lead. I scanned the room for Haya's clothes, frowning when I realized she didn't even have any clothes here. Must be a sight to behold. . .
I chuckled and shook my head to empty the garbage. Jumping up to my feet, I strolled to my closet and yanked open the door, and grabbed a white t shirt with my biker shorts. I've heard many boy and men gush about how they love the sight of their significant others in their clothes. I mean, sure, it's hot, but have you ever seen a woman in her own fitting clothes? That's hotter.
Don't get me wrong, I also love the sight of imagining Haya rocking my clothes. It's just that I like to call myself unique, special, different from other men, and it sounds like I am a big, egotistical narcissist, but so what? Haters can kiss my—hands.
"Haya?" I knocked on the bathroom door twice with my knuckles, and muttered incoherent words when a sharp sting coursed through my hand. "Haya?" I repeated again. Did she sleep in there or something? Or drown?
I heard ruffling on the other side of the door.
"Yeah?" she replied after what seemed like an eternity, sounding flustered and frantic. "You haven't left."
She almost sounded disappointed, like she just couldn't wait for me to just leave her alone. That obviously hit a sore spot, and I usually wasn't the kind to take words to heart or really delve deeper to find out what someone means by their tone and register, but when it comes to my wife, I was a completely different person. Everything extra. Possessive, controlling, affectionate—I hadn't even known what this crap was until I met her—more impatient blah blah blah. I could literally name many more, but now's not the time.
Not when my wife just can't wait to get rid of me.
Call me a lunatic, I really don't give a crap.
"Do you plan on pacing this room naked?" I called out.
Silence was my answer.
"Haya, I asked you something."
"No, I don't."
I turned the door knob, and to my utter shock the door opened. I have to give her credit for being so bold and not locking the damn door. I mean, I know I'm her husband, but what if someone got into the room, like room service? This woman was just. . .
"What are you doing!" she yelled, slamming the door back in my face. Um. Did she just. . .slam the door in my face? "Don't you own any manners?"
I— "Manners?" I deadpanned. "I'm your husband. If I want, I can come in right away and there's nothing you can do to stop me."
"I'm stronger than you. I could fight you off."
I actually laughed at that. "What's that, sweetheart? You challenging me? Huh?" I was grinning from ear to ear, my head lowered at ground, eyes fixed on the mat.
"Whatever you want to call it."
"So, it's a challenge then," I teased. It was something I was really good at. Making her all flustered and bothered. I enjoyed it more than I enjoyed fighting. And I loved fighting. "I will get you clothes, until then here, open the door and take my clothes."
The door creaked open, just enough for her to stick her arm out to me. Warm air attacked me from the small opening, and I could see tiny water droplets on Haya's arm. I carefully handed her the clothes and went to stand in the middle of the room.
She emerged five minutes later. I think she wasn't expecting me because she jumped back when her eyes found me, shock evident on her flushed face. Her cheeks were beet red and she looked exceptionally gorgeous with those wild hairs of hers and those big round eyes that were widened.
"You're still here?" Her voice did a lot of justice to her expression. Shocked and surprised. She kept nervously tugging my t-shirt down, trying to cover as much as possible, but the funny thing was I hadn't even looked at her legs.
Not that I didn't want to.
I smirked her way. "Someone challenged me earlier. I take that personally. Right here," I said, pointing a finger to my heart.
It took her half a second to understand what I meant, and then she rolled her eyes in the most 'duh' manner.
"You think you can win, baby?" I quirked a brow. I had my arms folded across my chest, and my feet planted to the ground firmly. I liked how I stood. I oozed confidence and my wide stance showed Haya how ready I was to take her down.
"I know I can," she shot back, almost defensive. Strolling to the dresser, she grabbed her hair tie and secured her wet hair in a bun and when she was done, she faced me with a wicked glint in her eyes.
Heck yeah. That's what I am talking about. A woman who pretends to be brave even if she isn't is a woman who would survive through the big bad wolves that roam this world. You see, us men think we can always win because we can easily win a physical fight with women. Other then that, us men are practically scared like crap. We're weak. We act brave, and not crying is like a big gold trophy for us.
Haya approached me slowly, like she was gauging my reaction or trying to know if she'd have to attack me or defend herself. I knew that look. I knew it because I've seen it in my eyes, too. It's like a gleam, a spark that ignites inside her eyes. She's excited, I can tell that.
"Let's find out, sweetheart."
She aimed a punch at my face. Expected. I easily blocked it, moving to the right, grinning. I was already having fun and it had just started.
This was going to be good.
Damn good.
Once again she threw a fist at me which I blocked with my hand, holding her fist, and yanked her towards me.
She gasped.
"You're being too obvious," I chuckled. "Surprise me."
I was never expecting what came next. She spun around and kicked me in the thigh, so hard I almost lost my balance. Crap. I was definitely not expecting this. She did, indeed, surprise me.
"Ow," I winced, rubbing my thigh. She laughed, and a second later my phone chimed. I narrowed my eyes at her and went to grab my phone.
Crap.
Three missed calls from Sheru.
I forgot I had to meet with him. . .thirty minutes before.
Great.
You see, not being punctual is my biggest pet peeve. I absolutely, with all my callous heart, despise it when someone is late. Even a second. Forget about minutes. It's a person's responsibility to being punctual and all. Someone gives you a time, you be there on that exact time.
Not a damn minute late or early.
Actually, early might do so.
"I have to go," I announced firmly, although my heart didn't want to leave just yet. I was actually having a nice time with Haya. But business comes first. "We will continue when I come back," I smiled as I walked up to a very sulking Haya and slipped my phone in my pocket. "Hey, stop being a baby. I'll be back soon. Until then, you can do whatever you want to. Just can't leave the room."
"How nice of you," she rolled her eyes. "It's not like I can go out anyway. You know," she made hand movements to present the biker shorts.
"Oh, don't I know."
Pink tinged her neck, crawling up her ears.
I laughed quietly, feeling victorious.
My patience was growing thinner than a thread as I waited inside my car for Haatim. Apparently he was very pissed off at me for not coming on time—and no I was not going to apologize for that, because hello? I don't do apologies.
Like, ever.
I furiously tapped at the steering wheel with my thumb, fingers wrapped around the black velvet covering. I was just about to threaten my best friend when the passenger door flew open and he slid inside, eyes set on me with a tinge of annoyance.
"If you don't get rid of this attitude of yours, I will kick you out of the car myself."
He gave me a look that suggested he thought I was crazy. Oh, so he didn't like my sudden outburst.
He. . .thinks?
I know I am.
Damn crazy.
"The heck, man?" he growled. I noticed he had a stubble worth a few days which in his case meant he was either stressed, or depressed. Or both. He's a man who prefers a clean shave, despite girls telling him otherwise. He's like the rebellion teen who doesn't listen to others.
"Chill out," I rolled my eyes. He's acting like a hormonal little teen. "I don't have enough time, so, enlighten me on the progress."
"You're a prick, you know that right?"
I grabbed a cigarette from the dash board, instantly lighting it up and taking a long, slow drag from it, keeping it inside of me for a few seconds before blowing it upwards in a cloud of smoke which danced above my head, teasing me, taunting me.
"I am worse than a prick. And, yes, you never miss an opportunity to remind me of that," I shot back, and offered him the cigarette but he refused on a shake of his head, looking all sorts of pissed.
"Is there any news on Antonio?" I dived right into the topic for which I had called him so sudden, wanting report on the Italian mobster who was currently hiding away somewhere. He had illegally taken part of my family's property in Chicago, and that prick wasn't just going to get off with it easily.
He got news I was in town. That's why he chickened away somewhere, hiding. Although I couldn't care less about my father's money, it was not just his anymore. Areesha and I are to inherit it, too. Feroze too, but about him I don't give two craps. When we are of age, like, for me two years from now. When I turn 21.
"Yeah. Surprisingly, so. I had Sheru keep tabs on his men all the time. Apparently all those sick pricks do is hit clubs and bars, literally. Since their boss is playing hide and seek, I thought why don't we make the game more interesting."
My brows pinched together. I always preferred peace over violence, but there was a wicked glimmer in my friend's eyes which I was not taking for a good sign.
I rubbed my face. "What did you do."
His laugh reverberated through the seats and walls of the SUV. Gone was all his bad mood. The sulking. Poof. Evaporated into thin air. He was always the different one in our group, preferring fight over peace. Violence over settlement. Guns over words. He was the irrational one, and sometimes—most of the times, he took decisions on impulse. I think we all liked the adrenaline, the thrill. But Haatim could easily get carried away with it.
"Threatened one of his men, Benjamin. Man, he's such a coward." His voice rose an octave, laced with excitement. "I didn't even have to point my gun at him to make him speak. Just gave him some bills and he poured his heart out to me."
No. That's too easy. Nobody would dare betray their boss for a couple of bills, especially when they payed them more.
I sighed, taking a long drag again, but this time I blew out through my nose. "I am not buying that lie. And I am not a fool. Now, be a good boy and tell me what you did."
I pinned my eyes to him, watching him suck on his bottom lip as he probably ran everything through his mind and looked for decent words to describe the event to me. I just really, deeply hoped there wouldn't be blood involved.
"Okay. You got me. I might or might not have threatened his family. . ."
I almost chocked on my saliva.
What the heck?
"Haatim!" I growled, anger taking a sudden hold of my rational thinking and twisting its way around it. "That was a rule I told you should not be broken! Damn it!"
This man is a stupid child who can't follow orders. I mean, how damn hard is it to understand one simple thing? Just one thing—never threaten someone's family. Leave their wives and children out of all this. I don't give a crap if they aren't innocent, or if they've got a criminal's blood in their veins.
I say you don't involve them, so you don't.
"When will you grow up?" I spat out aggressively, losing calm with every passing second. The fact that he had this innocent look on his face pushed my buttons further. "I tell you don't threaten someone's wife. Someone's child. And that's exactly what you do. When will you grow up!" I jammed my fist on the steering wheel, the horn blowing for a second.
I felt furious. Mad. Angry.
I wanted to punch something.
"Well, at least it got his location, didn't it? So you better stop shouting at me—"
"Or what?" I challenged. "Huh? Or what?" I seethed.
He scoffed in the back of his throat, and rolled those stupid eyes at me. "Come on, man, chill."
I didn't know what made me more furious. The fact that he was possibly in love with my girl, or that he didn't listen to the one simple rule I had set before coming to Italy with my friends. Hear me out, okay? Breaking my rule is one thing, but having eyes on my Haya? I won't let it slip so easily.
I hadn't told Haatim about the incident that occurred. Sheru and Shehriyaar were enlightened upon, and despite being aggravated with the part where Haya and I suffered, they were beyond thrilled to meet her. I could still hear Sheru's laughter when he said 'you got the girl'.
I got the girl.
And if she wouldn't have been mine, I wouldn't have let anyone else even lay a hand on her.
Yes, I admit I am one of those sick pricks who once when gets his eyes on a girl, will either have her or won't let her be someone else's. I finally understand it, pretty clearly. Every mile that I put between me and Haya made my heart drop lower and lower to my stomach, and every time I opened my phone to a picture of her smiling at something on her notebook in school punched me straight in the throat.
She was like a drug to me. The worst kind. Ever since that day I sat next to her in religion class, and the way she would sneak glanced at my battered face trying very hard not to look too obvious, that was when I had first time really noticed her. I mean, sure, she was a pretty girl but I never let myself look at her for longer than two seconds. I was scared to possess feelings for someone when this rage was bottled inside of me, all the hurt I had contained within me because of my brother threatening me.
I had gotten into a fight with some lowlife dude who couldn't stop gushing about Haya's body in the boys' locker room while all of the guys snickered and patted him on the back, hyping him up to have her already. I tried, trust me. I really tried to contain my anger and just ignore it, but I couldn't push it away. Not enough. I wasn't easy on him. I dived right in and imagined him as a punching bag, throwing fist after fist at him not even realizing blood oozed out of his nose because my thoughts were fogged. All I could imagine was his dirty hands on Haya. Despite him getting some punch landed my way, I won.
And she has no clue I fought for her that day.
Why did I fight? She was no one to me. Literally. But there was something about her that told me to keep her away from all the dogs that were after her.
Isn't it always like that? There's always this one person that you just want. Want to protect. Want to cherish. Want to love. You want all the 'wants' with them.
And Haya was that for me.
I gritted my teeth, coming back to reality. Haatim was waiting for me to speak. Like always when he did something stupid.
"What do you want me to say, Haatim?" I finally broke the silence that was thick in the air. Heavy on my chest. I breathed in, nice and slow, calming down. Memories of Haya had reached me and thrown away the anger I was feeling somewhere far, far away.
She was like a ghost, calming me down without even have to be here physically. But she was everywhere. Like wind snaking around me at the night. Like my shadow at noon.
"Crap," my best friend muttered, running a hand through his locks. "You're right. I shouldn't have done that. What the heck is wrong with me?" He muttered a curse under his breath. "It must be her. She's making me do stupid things. Man, I just can't stop thinking about her. She's fogging up the "
My heart skipped beats.
"She's so beautiful," he mumbled, staring ahead at the tall, worn out brick wall in front of us, lost in the memories of her.
I cringed.
Real hard.
The sun had dipped behind the wall, night finally taking over as the day was rolling away. I tried to calm my racing heart, fathom the fact that my best friend was head over heels for my girl. I didn't even dare telling him she was my wife, the girl he adored. I was scared. . .obviously I didn't want to ruin our friendship, but I couldn't hide it for longer.
What the heck was I supposed to do?
If I told him right away, he would lash out. I'm afraid he'd do something regretful. But I also couldn't stand him imagining my wife and gushing about her beauty. It awakened a monster inside of me I never knew existed. It made me furious, coiling my insides with a foreign feeling.
"When do we go to that prick?" I asked him, changing the subject. "Benjamin must have alerted him by now. He might even leave the city now."
Haatim clicked his tongue, rocking his leg back and forth. "Nah, Benjamin wouldn't be such a fool to endanger his lovely wife and their kids. I'll text you the time tomorrow. We need to make sure that we catch him off guard."
I nodded, understanding what he meant. "Yes, because there will be no violence."
"Tell me something," he cocked his head to the side, examining me like a report. "Do you really think he will agree on having a nice chat with you? They don't just call him ruthless for no reason."
"And they don't call me callous for no reason."