Asad

I made my way down the spiral staircase with a black file in one hand and my phone in the other, the marble under my feet a reminder of how much I'd invested in the house. Every inch of it was designed to suit my needs, high-tech, efficient, and precise, just the way I liked it. The automated lights flickered on as I stepped into the living room, the soft hum of the house's systems a constant presence in the background.

The living room was quiet, except for the faint sound of the Qur'an playing in the background through the built-in speakers. One light was on in the far corner, casting a soft glow over the minimalist furniture. I had never been one for clutter, just a few carefully selected pieces, mostly dark wood, and glass, with large, low-slung leather couches in the middle. Everything was sharp and modern, reflecting the kind of life I led. In control, orderly, and efficient, exactly how I wanted it.

I headed towards the kitchen, my gym shoes silent on the floor. I reached the coffee machine, its sleek, metallic design fitting seamlessly with the dark granite countertops. The smell of fresh coffee filled the air as I poured myself a cup. I had always been a coffee drinker, I'd started the habit long ago. The bitterness of it was something I'd come to appreciate, even look forward to in the mornings.

I took a sip, the warmth spreading through my chest as I leaned against the counter. My gym clothes clung to me like a second skin, a simple black shirt and shorts, functional, breathable. Usman would be here soon. He always made a point of having our gym sessions together. Since I'd first moved in, my in-house gym had always been my sanctuary, along with the entire house, away from the noise and constant presence of people at home. But Usman, always the social one, had other ideas. He'd dragged me to high-class gyms and football fields, insisting I needed more "human contact." I'd resisted at first, but he was relentless as always. He knew how to get me into doing things I could never dream of doing. Today was different though as he suggested having it at my home.

I took another sip of coffee, the bitter taste grounding me as I walked back to the living room. I picked the black folder I'd been reviewing before coming downstairs on the way. Business never really stopped for me, even on weekends. I flipped it open as I sat down on the couch, setting the coffee on the armrest. There was something satisfying about going through work files, about knowing exactly what needed to be done and how to get it done.

I glanced at the clock. Usman would be here soon, no doubt ready to make me regret drinking coffee before a workout. I was halfway through my coffee when I heard the loud roar of an engine outside. It wasn't Usman's usual arrival time, he always took his sweet time getting here for our sessions, but the sound of the car pulling into the driveway had me expecting him anyway. I set the black folder back down on the table and stretched my arms, rolling my shoulders.

The doorbell rang, the sound echoing through the quiet house. I made my way to the front door, already rehearsing some comment to throw at Usman about his timing. But when I checked the in-built system screen beside the door, I was greeted with someone else entirely, my younger brother, Nadir.

I opened the door and he stood there, wearing a mischievous grin that immediately made me skeptical. What was he doing here this early? Nadir wasn't exactly a morning person, and he definitely wasn't the type to just drop by unless he wanted something. He leaned against the doorframe, his lanky frame almost mirroring mine in height, though I had him beat in muscle. He had the unmistakenly Fulani look, sharp features, high cheekbones, and light skin, but darker compared to mine and Ammi's.

"Morning." He said, a little too casually.

I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes. "What are you doing here, Nadir?"

"What, I can't come to say hi to my big brother?" He shot me a wide, innocent smile, on I wasn't buying for a second.

I stepped aside, letting him in but not without giving him a hard look. "Since when do you wake up early just to say hi?"

He shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he wandered into the living room. "Can't a guy visit his brother without it being an interrogation?"

I raised an eyebrow, and he followed me, already knowing where this was going. Nadir was always up to something. He flopped onto the couch, looking far too comfortable, while I sat back in my seat, sipping my coffee and waiting for him to spill whatever scheme he was brewing.

"I can't wait to move out of the house too one day." He spoke. "I will miss Ammi, though."

"Who said you will be allowed to move out?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"I plan to go for master's soon, so I will be allowed then." He said with a smile. "I don't know how you do it, but I can't live in a house alone. I will need my friends, at least." He said as if he had just made a discovery. I ignored him.

"So," he began, his voice trailing off in that way he always did when he was about to ask for something. He avoided eye contact, his fingers playing with the edges of a cushion on the couch.

I sighed. "Just get to the point, Nadir. What do you want?"

He shifted in his seat with a smile too big even for his extroverted self, trying to look casual but failing miserably. "Okay, so, I was thinking... It's been a while since I've asked you for anything... months, actually... and I have been real responsible lately." He glanced up at me, testing the waters before he continued. "I was wondering if I could borrow one of your sports cars. Just for a little while, you know, to go out with the guys."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, already feeling the headache coming on. Of course. It was always about the cars. If there was one thing I loved, one thing I could claim as an obsession, though my family was quick to call it that, it was cars. I'd invested so much into them over the years, not just for the sake of owning them, but because I genuinely enjoyed everything about them. From the engineering to the ornamental, I appreciated the craft behind each one. I didn't just buy cars, I curated them. My indoor garage was a testament to that, a collection of machines that I valued more than I probably should for worldly things.

I liked the way they felt on the road, the way I handled it, and even the way the engines roared to life when I turned the key. But some days, I couldn't bring myself to drive them. I didn't know why, and I never thought too deeply about it. There were just those mornings when the thought of getting behind the wheel felt... heavy. Like something in me was holding back, an instinct I didn't understand, but I guessed that's just normal or maybe it was just one of those things, a quirk I'd picked up along the way.

"You remember what happened last time," I said, keeping my voice calm. "I had to spend days getting the car repaired abroad because you thought it would be fun to take it off-road."

Nadir waved a hand dismissively. "That was ages ago, Akh. I've learned since then. I'll be careful this time, I swear, Hamma Asad." He finished, subconsciously mixing the honorific in front of my name like my family always did when they were alternating between languages, mostly Arabic and Fulfulde.

I stared at him, unimpressed before shaking my head.

He straightened up, eyes lighting up as if I was giving him a real shot at it. "The Porsche?"

The thought of my 2019 Porsche Cayenne 718 flashed through my mind. I loved that car, the way it handled, the way it looked, everything about it was perfect. And there was no way I was handing it over. "No."

"You don't even use it that much." Nadir blinked but had clearly expected the immediate shutdown. His nosy friends took the word to him every time they saw me around, especially with my cars and most interestingly, the sports cars. "Okay, okay, fair. What about the Aston Martin? The DBS Superleggera?"

I took another sip of coffee, feeling the bitterness spread across my tongue. The Aston was a masterpiece, sleek and powerful. The mere thought of Nadir behind the wheel made me cringe. "Absolutely not."

"Okay, fine." Nadir shifted tactics, undeterred. "The Lamborghini Huracan Evo, then? Come on, you barely drive that one too at all."

I stared at him blankly. "No." And then focused my attention on the TV in the background which became much more interesting than the conversation.

"Alright, last offer." He said, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees as if he were bargaining for his life. I was disappointed at how bad he was at bargaining which meant he equally was at doing business too. "The Ferrari GTC4Lusso? Just for the night, I promise." For someone as smart as Nadir, his bargaining kept deteriorating and I noted how much I needed to teach him.

"Still no." I flicked through the channels with the remote, not even looking at him anymore.

Nadir threw his hands up, defeated. "You are impossible, you know what?"

I smirked with disappointment laced, but kept my eyes on the screen, "You're the one that keeps asking the wrong way. You need to learn how to bargain. How to do business."

Before Nadir could argue again, the doorbell rang. Usman. I stood up, handing Nadir a look that said we were done here. "Go open the door. Usman's here."

Nadir sighed, muttering something under his breath, but he got up and headed for the door. I watched him go, shaking my head. This was our routine, him asking, me refusing, and him getting over it within minutes. He never seemed to mind it, though, which maddened me all the time. He needed to be more persistent when going after things he wanted, I wanted him to realize.

Deep down, I knew I might have given him one of the sports cars if he persisted truly.

A few moments later, I heard the door open, and Nadir's voice greet Usman. They exchanged a few words before I heard Nadir's playful tone float down the hallway.

"My brother is refusing to give me the car," Nadir said, now louder and directed toward Usman. "He says I'm not bargaining the right way. Since you're a businessman too, help me out."

I could hear the grin in his voice as he spoke, and I had to admit I was pleased he was trying again. Maybe he was catching on after all.

By the time I walked into the hallway after dropping the cup in the kitchen, Usman was already shaking his head, smiling. Nadir was an inch taller than him, though Usman was no slouch himself. He had a darker complexion, his Kanuri features more defined, and he stood comfortably in his gym clothes. Usman, always level-headed, got along with my brother because they were both polar opposites of me and had somehow become the middleman between me and my brother.

"You want me to ask him for the car?" Usman asked with a chuckle, clearly entertained. He turned to me, eyebrows raised, as if to say, 'Are we doing this again?'

Nadir nodded with a serious face that was almost laughable. "He said I need to learn how to bargain, and you know how to do business. You are his best friend as well, so he listens to you."

"Well, Asad, maybe he's right. You've got to give the kid some credit for coming back to negotiate." Usman gave me a knowing look, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. "Let's at least hear him out."

I rolled my eyes slightly, already knowing where it was going. "Alright, fine." I decided to agree but to drag it first. "But if he crashes it again, I'm not paying for repairs."

Nadir, sensing a victory, straightened up. Usman, ever the strategist, stepped forward. "Here's what I think," he said while rubbing his hands together like he was about to pitch a business deal. "You lay down some ground rules. Nadir gets the car, but only under specific conditions. You get something in return. Maybe some sort of commitment from, like driving safely this time or even better, what you have been wanting him to do, join the company."

I eyed Nadir, silently asking what he thought about what was said by Usman. I had recently told Usman about my plans to have him join.

"Can I join after my master's, then?"

I sighed. "We will visit this conversation some other time," I said referring to him joining the company. "You know how much I value those cars. I'm not just handing one over. You follow the rules, or no deal?"

"Okay, I'll follow the rules. I promise I'll be careful this time. Just tell me what they are." Nadir, as impatient as always, said.

"See? That's how you do business?" Usman clapped him on the back.

"Alright." I sighed again while running a hand through my hair as I thought it over. "No reckless driving. No racing with friends. And if anything happens to it, you pay for the repairs yourself, not from your parents' pocket as well. Deal?" I added the last part, knowing he'd understand I meant he had to work, earn, and then pay back.

"Deal." Nadir grinned. "I am not going to damage anything because I am saving to buy a Ferrari soon."

"You have not heard, have you? You buy a Ferrari when you want to look rich, but you are not, and then you buy a Lamborghini when you are rich. And you know, I am a strong believer in Lamborghini supremacy so buy a Lamborghini instead." Usman schooled Nadir but knowing Nadir, he wasn't going to take the lesson. "And which car are you planning to get from him, by the way?" Usman curiously asked.

"The Lamborghini," Nadir said, clearly aiming high.

"The Huracan Evo?" Usman asked with wide eyes and a mocking smile.

I chuckled. "No chance," I said while shaking my head.

Nadir looked over at Usman as if silently pleading for help. Usman scratched his chin, thinking for a moment. "Maybe a different car? Something a little... less?"

"Take the Porsche," I said, this time grabbing my water bottle and heading towards the gym.

"Yes!" He screamed excitedly. I had expected him to go get the key and take the car from the garage. But instead, he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders in a manly back hug. I tensed and stopped instantly, not just on reflex. Nadir knew never to do that, and before I shook him off, he let go, stepping back quickly like he'd just remembered.

I shot him a look and silently kissed my teeth. He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Akh."

I shook my head, but let it slide. I continued towards the gym in silence knowing Usman was following behind.

"Layla is really lucky to have you," Nadir shouted from afar now as he retreated.

That caught me off guard, but a small, quiet sense of satisfaction bloomed inside me, and a small smile graced my lips. I pushed open the door and stepped inside. The high-tech setup greeted me like an old friend, the sleek machines lined up in perfect order. The equipment was top of the line, the kind I'd invested in over the years because working out had long become my way of clearing my mind whenever I wasn't buried in work. The lighting was bright and focused, highlighting every detail of the polished surfaces.

"Ready?" I asked Usman as I grabbed a towel from the rack.

Usman handed me a set of weights as I settled onto the bench, adjusting my grip. We had been at it for a while, but of course, the workout wouldn't have felt complete without Usman bringing up the conversation I knew prompted us to work out at my home today,

"So," Usman began saying while glancing at me with a curious grin, "how would you rate your meeting with her on a scale of ten?"

I paused for a moment. I noticed how he didn't mention Layla's name out of respect. I thought about it and the image of her, her soft yet teasing voice, flashed through my mind. "Nine," I replied and a smile crept onto my face before I could stop it. I didn't know where it came from.

"Then on a normal standard, that's a five out of ten." He shook his head with a smirk, clearly about to enjoy it. "You are smiling too much and it is scary." Usman had stopped and was looking at me with a slightly terrified look.

I ignored his tease but couldn't deny the grin tugging at my lips. My thoughts drifted back to the night and the moment between Layla and me. She had blabbed away, effortlessly filling the silence with her words. I realized it then that it wasn't just her face that drew me in but her carefree nature too. She was so comfortable with herself, just talking, laughing, and letting many different things spill at once. I was the complete opposite of me when I measured my words, she flowed.

Her pink outfit caught my attention in a very subtle way. Her voice had stuck with me in a way I never thought a voice could. It was feminine, not in the cliched sense I'd associate, but in a way that made me pause. And the truth was, I'd never cared to notice things like that with anyone before. Astagfirullah.

Usman gasped and I looked at him, he was still looking at me. "Get back to your workout." I ordered.

"Maybe it is more than five then." He said before he went back to the bench. I had said that already. "What is next then?"

"I asked her out," I said while taking a breather.

Usman paused for a few seconds before looking back at me. He sat up. "You asked her out? As in... you have already sent a marriage proposal, so it means you asked her out on a date?" Usman slowly said as if trying to make sense of it in his head, a habit of his. "Where is my best friend? Where did you take him to?"

I shook my head.

"This is not you, man. What did she do to you?" He walked and stood in front of me, his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Will you help me or not?" I asked, my shoulders slumping slightly.

"Okay, okay." He started. "Where do you want to take her?"

"Where do people go to?" I said before I looked up at him. Usman was right, this wasn't me a few weeks ago. Not only was I willingly taking steps to make it work, I was willing to go out of my way as well. I wasn't like this. The idea of actually taking her on a date felt... strange.

I thought back to when Layla teased me about my "alter ego", asking if the confident man on the phone was someone different. And oddly, that question had stuck. The idea of having an alter ego wasn't a bad one. In fact, that was exactly what I had done when I took over at the company, I channeled a more confident version of myself to lead. I didn't realize it at first. Maybe in this case, with Layla, I needed that same push to be even bolder than I had started to feel. My pace and the normal pace of less introverted people weren't the same, I've always known that when it came to social relations. But I initiated this, albeit subconsciously, still willingly though.

"A restaurant is the safest bet here, to be honest." Usman's voice broke through my thoughts. He smirked knowingly as I picked the weights, wiping my brow.

I silently considered it before replying. "I'll think about it," I muttered as my mind was already racing with ideas.

"Think about it, but don't take too long. You don't want to lose momentum with her. Women like action, Asad." He said as he walked back to his position.

I finished the set and grabbed my phone. I wasn't going to wait any longer, I heeded his advice. I didn't know where the sudden drive to stay on my feet came from, but I knew it was from within. It was my instincts, and I was trusting them.

As I grabbed my towel, a thought crossed my mind about her headaches. She had mentioned them almost offhandedly a few nights ago but for the past few days, it seemed she dealt with them. I could tell there was more to it but I hadn't pressed her. But now, I couldn't help but feel like I should follow up, and check up on her like I have the past few days. I dropped her a message, which we've been communicating the most through.

I called my female assistant, deciding she'd better understand the situation than the male. The sound of Usman slamming weights behind me echoed as I scrolled through my phone, trying to figure out how to phrase it properly. This was another new territory for me, and I could already tell it was going to be awkward, as always. But it was usually not awkward between my employees and me because of the professionalism of the environment we worked in.

"Good morning, sir," Lucy answered after a few rings, her tone professional as always.

"Morning." I greeted back, clearing my throat. I glanced over at Usman, who was half-paying attention, half-focused on his reps. "I need you to set up a date for me."

There was a pause on the other end.

"Hello?" I called again to make sure she was still on the line.

"A... date?" Her voice sounded surprised as if she hadn't heard me correctly.

"Yes. A date." I repeated, trying not to sound too nervous about it. "Do you get it?"

"I mean, yes, sir." She replied quickly, probably trying to mask the shock in her voice. "How intimate should this be? Or how big?"

I paused the word intimate hanging in the air. It felt wrong given the context of our relationship and the boundaries we both upheld. I furrowed my brow and responded firmly. "Not intimate. Big. Something in public."

On the other end, I could sense my assistant's hesitation growing, I was sure why.

"Big?" She echoed, sounding more confused than before. "Are you sure? Public?"

Usman, who had been eavesdropping while doing his sets, suddenly dropped his weights and gave me a wide-eyed look. He mouthed the word big like it was a disaster waiting to happen.

"Yes, big." I was afraid my voice sounded a bit unsure at that.

"Okay, I get it, sir." She cleared her throat. "But I have never done this for you so I want to know your expectations first."

I thought about it and glanced back at Usman who was looking at me expectantly. Honestly, I didn't know what exactly I was expecting, I only knew I wanted it to be something she'd loved. Something that will maybe make her smile at me.

"Or maybe a budget to work around?" She asked carefully.

I hadn't thought about the budget as well, but considering it easier, without hesitation, I called out a number, something on the higher end but my definition of making it special.

Before I could even blink or Lucy could reply, Usman shouted, "WHAT?!"

I shot him a look as he shook his head, completely horrified.

"That's way too much!" He exclaimed as he walked over with a towel slung over his shoulder. "Man, women love grand gestures, sure, but this? You are gonna scare her. That's like love bombing on steroids."

I furrowed my eyebrows, signaling for him to continue.

"I really need to give you actual lessons, don't I?" Usman asked with slight, mocking disappointment spread on his face. And then the long lecture started.

I listened while I shot Malik a message.

Later that evening, as I walked into my home office, the familiar quiet enveloped me.

The space was dimly lit, with just enough light for me to see my way toward the desk. My muscles ached slightly from the gym session with Usman as I exerted myself to stop some thoughts from overinvading my mind. I glanced at the mirror sitting on the wall by the side, my eyes making contact with their reflection. For the longest time, I had hidden my eyes from the world—or at least, the people I must relate to within my line of work. I'd always wear sunglasses and a lot would often consider it a fashion statement not knowing what laid underneath. I avoided the stares, the questions, the attention. It wasn't just vanity; it was a shield. Deep down, I had silently prayed that Layla, whom I somehow subconsciously let saw the eyes before our situation turned, wouldn't have been skeptical about them.

She didn't. I couldn't shake the way she always seemed to look at me, her gaze lingering longer than anyone else's ever did. It wasn't the usual kind of attention I'd get, the kind that made me feel like some people were waiting for the right moment to ask about my eyes, it was some unspoken curiosity they were just dying to address. With her, it was different.

She never asked.

Most people I had gone to school and done business with had that moment when their eyes would dart back and forth, pretending not to notice the difference, but I could see it, the brief flicker of curiosity that usually ended in avoidance, or not. Yet, with Layla, she would look, actually look, but not once did she seem bothered by it.

It made me feel comfortable in a way I wasn't used to when it wasn't family and my few friends. Almost like it was okay to be myself around her, to not hide behind my glasses or my guarded demeanor.

Just as I sat down, two messages popped up on the screen. One was from Layla, the other was from Huda. I stared at the screen for a moment. The first message was a reply that instantly brought a sense of anticipation; so I replied to it, but the latter's next to her triggered a wave of guilt. Huda had been trying to reach me for days now, leaving voicemails and sending texts, all of which I hadn't responded to. I knew exactly why she was angry, and understandably, she wasn't taking it well.

I hadn't meant to hurt her. My sisters had already messaged me too, nudging me to make things right with her. I could feel their concern in every word they sent but Huda was visibly stubborn, and in situations like this, space was the mature solution.

I told myself I'd reach out to her when the time was right. The thought of apologizing had crossed my mind more, but I figured giving her time to cool off would make the apology feel more genuine when I finally sent it. I wasn't at all worried about Huda losing her cool if I had spoken to her because she knew better than to ever do that.