Loves To Hate Her (a Muslim love story)
"I can't lie," he says, his tone hard. I hated that. I hated that whenever he would be talking to me, his tone would turn as cold as ice and hard as stone.
I sigh. "I'm not asking you to lie, I'm asking you to tell the truth, but since you wont, you will do the opposite, so you will do the opposite of telling the truth, which is lying, but don't worry! You won't actually be lying because I know that you're lying and it's not a lie if..." I ramble on. I really do have a bad habit of doing that...
"Your point?" his sharp tone makes me jump in surprise.
"My point is this: I'm going to ask you a question and you're going to lie, okay?" I ask, playing with my fingers nervously.
"And why would I do that?" he questions me, his eyebrows raised.
"I'm going to be your wife, soon." I stated, an unfamiliar feeling settled in my stomach as his smoldering gaze raked over me.
"Your right." he whispered breathlessly. He then shook his head and cleared his throat. "Okay, shoot."
"Do you hate me?" I ask, my life on the line.
He doesn't answer; instead he grabs my wrists and pulls me to him, which made me crash into his hard chest, surprised I gasp. His warm chocolate brown eyes pierces into mine.
"Maybe," he says as he places a single kiss on my cheek and walks away, leaving me confused, astonished...and happy? But why?
Because he didn't say no