Nailah Zayed.

Maroudi, Nigeria.

I don't know how long I sat there in that messy pile. But, I know that at a point, I heard the sound of the front door being opened; and I had no strength to even look up to see who it was.

The sound of light pad of footsteps against the marble floor reached my ears, approaching me. Even if a part of me wanted to look up, I was too exhausted to do so.

My head remained on top of my knees that I'd pulled to my chest, the sting from my feet still very much there. How long had it been since my outrage? Probably an hour or two. Times flies pretty fast, or more like, it stilled.

If I was being honest though, then believe me when I say I wished time would actually stop—and I would remain in that position forever. It was better to handle the pain, and allow myself to wallow in fear than to get up, and face what's about to come.

So what if I made up my mind to fight? That only lasted a few minutes, and it's not like confidence truly comes that easily. No matter how hard I think, I can't think of a way to beat this man in whatever sick game he's playing at.

I thought the ball was in my court, and that I could dribble it however I want. But he strolled in all his glory, took the ball, and left me with nothing at all.

Feigning confidence and the zeal to get it back is easier said than done.

The footsteps stopped right beside me, and I wasn't scared not one bit. The person could be after my life then, and I still wouldn't care. If anything, I may even thank the person for it.

I guess death might be better than living in constant fear.

A big, and warm hand was placed on my arm, and soon after, fingers followed as my head was raised slowly. I didn't fight it, already taking in the familiar cologne I didn't get a whiff of earlier. The first thing my no doubt, slightly blurry and bloodshot gaze fell on was his face...emotionless as always.

His eyes were fixed on mine for a couple of seconds, before they gaze my face a onceover, almost as if he wants to see right through me.

I hated it.

I had always hated how cold his gaze always has been. I hated how I could be in the worst situations, and he wouldn't make any inquiries whatsoever.

It's always been like that, and I've long accepted that Imran's heart was as cold as his gaze.

However, at the brink of desperately wanting to accept that reality, he always manages to pierce through those thoughts and shatter them.

His lips parted slightly, and I don't know if my eyes eyes were playing tricks on me but I could swear his expression softened for a second. It was quick to disappear as quick as it appeared though. And then, he was up on his feet.

I would be lying if I said my heart didn't sink then, as I looked away—my gaze suddenly blurry again. Just like always, this is the part where he strolls away and pretend as if he didn't see anything.

Like I said earlier, he always manages to prove my thoughts wrong though. Because without a warning whatsoever, his arms were suddenly around me and before I could comprehend anything, he had managed to swoop me in his arms.

Caught unexpectedly by the sudden action, my heart leaped and a slight squeal escaped my parted lips. In a desperate attempt to look for some reassurance, I wrapped my arms around his neck hastily, in fear of falling face flat on the floor.

A part of me though, a small part, deep down knew he wouldn't let that happen. As much as I tried to turn a blind eye to it, something about Imran has always made me feel safe in a way. It was hard to explain the conflicting feelings I have for him.

Our marriage truly is nothing like other people's, and that was the sad reality.

While caught up in my small trance, I hadn't even realized he had walked up to his room until he carefully placed me on the bed; then turned around to disappear behind the doors leading to his closet.

I took that chance to sweep my gaze across the place. It might sound weird, but I haven't been in here for over a year. Before then, I could count up the times I came to his room, and even then, I always stood by the door.

I meant it when I said we don't have a normal marriage. We are married according to the Islamic law, but I doubt we all understood what that truly meant. I would love to blame it on our parents that give more care to their business than religion. But, the truth it, we're all to be blamed equally.

Imran and I are old enough to know what's right or wrong. Starting off a relationship on the wrong foot shouldn't mean we should let it continue like that. But, we did.

And I would take my blame for it, because I never made any attempt to fix it either. I was comfortable and alright with our arrangement, up until now. I'm sick and tired of the relationship he and I have.

For the first time, I'm starting to regret not having anyone with me. It would've been good to at least have Imran on my side.

My train of thoughts were cut short when he came back with with grey sweatshirt and joggers. On reaching where I am, he placed it beside me before his gaze met mine. "Change into this. I'll give you space to do so." His words came out surprisingly softer than his expression.

Not giving me a chance to respond though, he turned around and this time walked out the room—closing the door softly behind him. My gaze remained on the door for a little while longer than necessary, before shifting it to the clothes that laid beside me.

By the time he returned, about fifteen minutes later, I had changed into the outfit that had his signature scent thickly engulfing it. I would be lying if I say it didn't bring me comfort and slight peace of mind. Even I don't know why.

In his hands, he held the small first aid box that we always have around. Truth be told, I had no idea he knew of it's existence. He had always paid little attention to what's happening within the house. Household affairs had always been mine, and he had no care or interest for it.

I guess, he had always been aware of the things I deemed otherwise.

I was still seated on the bed by the edge, and without a word whatsoever, he leaned down and opened the box to take out whatever he needed. My attention wasn't there. If anything, I was overly aware when he reached his hand out to take a hold of my foot, and inspect the wound there.

The way his brows drew in and corner of his lips tiled downwards in concentration; the way he treated it with more expertise than I ever could baffled me. He treated both wounds I have with calmness, and wrapped it all pretty nicely.

When he was done with the wounds on my feet, he came to sit beside me on the bed—his gaze still never flicking upwards to meet mine. I couldn't tell if he was avoiding it, or if he was simply trying to remain focused on his current task.

I swallowed thickly when his large hands took one of mine—the one I had hurt earlier, and inspected the injury there. Unlike the one on my feet, this was smaller. But, I guess he thought otherwise because he gave it the same care. And by the time he was done, my hand was neatly bandaged.

For the first time in my twenty-four years of life, someone actually took care of me. It may not seem like much to you, but for someone like me who never had anyone acquaint even the smallest bit of care towards, this meant the world to me.

And I hadn't realized I was crying until warm tears slid down my face.

I wasn't sure what exactly I was crying for.

I don't know if it was because I was moved by his actions, or it was my fear from earlier coming back to me all over. Perhaps, it was both. I was moved by his actions, and if I dare say, I was foolish enough to think we might've been in a different situations had it been we put effort into making our relationship work—if we do put in effort.

I was also scared, because that might never happen. I will never get such a thing if my life comes to end.

I have wasted the ten years I had, and for the first time, I am regretting the way I lived my life. This isn't the life I wanted for myself. Not this life of solitude.

I don't want to lose everything.

I don't want to end up alone again.

Imran must've heard my sniffs, because he suddenly looked up—and this time around, he didn't hide how his eyes suddenly pooled with worry. He was taken aback, that much I deducted. It's the first time he is seeing me break down, and I wouldn't be surprised if he thought I was incapable of having such emotions.

I didn't hide away though, I had no strength in me to do so.

Just as I didn't push him away when one of his arms went around me, and quietly, he pulled me closer so my head was resting on his shoulder. He made no move to wrap his other arm around me, but I didn't mind.

This was more than enough.

So, I took full advantage of it and allowed my walls to come crumbling. I cried my heart out to the point where I had no more tears left. And even then, I stayed in his arms longer than I can afford.

Perhaps, this is will be the first, and last time.

And if such is the case, then I want to be greedy enough to take it all. I would take all life would give me now and hold onto it...even if that will hurt more when I lose it all. Still, I cave in.

I must've fell asleep then, because the next time I regained consciousness, I was under the thick blankets of his bed alone. The part of me I didn't know I had wanted to stay there a bit longer, but I knew I couldn't.

So, with much reluctance, I pushed myself out of the comfortable bed and looked around. Judging from what I could see through the windows, the sun is about to set so I've probably been out for an hour or two. Thankfully, I didn't have to worry about missing my prayers since it's that time of the month.

Perhaps, that was what made me even more emotional than usual?

I wouldn't be surprised if such is the case.

Pushing those thoughts away, I quietly padded out the room barefoot. On stepping out, faint voices reached my ears and without much care, I followed them leading to the living room.

The first person my gaze fell on was Imran, pacing in the living room as he frantically spoke to whoever is on the other end of his call. My heart dropped, fearing the worst because there was something about his expression that told me something's wrong.

I got my answers confirmed when my gaze fell on the TV whose volume had be tuned up. And the cause of my misery was displayed across the screen, uttering words I least expected to hear from him.  

"--This might come out sudden to you all. But, I'm delighted to announce to you all, that my company, Fadel Affiliation had agreed to be in partnership with Hadi Groups as agreed on just a while ago. We look forward to a successful, and profitable business with them..."

My gaze widened the size of saucers.

What the hell is the man playing at?