Asad

By the time morning rolled around, the weariness from the long night was only part of the reason my stomach felt like it was twisted in knots. I'd sent Layla two messages already, one since 3 AM, and another at 6:30 this morning, but she hadn't replied. Both had been read, the little notification glaring at me: Read at 6:38 a.m.

I checked my phone again as if that might change anything. Nothing. Just silence.

Usman's words from last night echoed in my head.

I was beginning to wonder if he was right. More than the beginning, actually, I was convinced. After a few more minutes of internal debate, I opened my browser and typed in "how to tell if a woman is mad at you" like it was the most normal thing in the world.

The top result that caught my eye read, "If she's ignoring you, giving short responses, or doesn't want to talk, chances are, she's mad." I groaned. This wasn't looking good. I scrolled down.

Another article said, "One of the biggest signs she's mad is if she's silent, especially if she usually replies quickly. Silence is a clear message." I read it twice, feeling the words dig in. Layla wasn't a silent type, especially not with me. If she was mad enough to ignore me, she was really upset.

Sighing, I shut off my phone. Think, Asad.

The answer, I decided, wasn't on my phone screen or in another Google search. If I wanted to make this right, I needed advice from a source who wouldn't judge me. I stood up, grabbed my keys, and headed to the only place I knew I could get answers.

I reached my parents' house and parked in my usual spot in the drive. It was early, barely 8 a.m., but these Saturday or usually, Friday mornings had become something of a ritual since I moved out. Only today, I wasn't here just for my usual weekend stay. I needed answers. And Nahla was, regrettably, my best shot.

I found myself slipping down the familiar hall and into her room. The door creaked slightly as I opened it, revealing Nahla sprawled out on her bed, half-buried under her covers, face squashed into her pillow. She looked entirely too comfortable for the dilemma currently brewing in my mind.

"Nahla..." I said softly at first, knowing she probably wouldn't stir.

I prodded her arm gently. Nothing. So I nudged her a little harder. Her response was a low, sleepy grumble as she burrowed deeper under the covers, prompting a small, half-amused, half-frustrated sigh from me.

For a brief moment, a flash of memory hit me, back when I was younger and just mischievous enough to pull this on my other sisters, knowing it would drive them crazy. I'd perfected the art of sneaking in, waking them just enough to make them stir, and then dodging whatever shoe they'd throw at me in retaliation.

Those memories always came with a dull ache, an underlying bitterness that rose unbidden. There were... things better left unexamined, parts of those days that weren't as easy to reminisce about.

A sudden voice snapped me from my thoughts.

"Akhi, what are you doing here?" Nahla muttered, barely lifting her head to squint up at me.

"You're up," I said, clearing my throat, and forcing myself back to the present. "Meet me in my part of the house when you're done waking up."

She narrowed her eyes, suspicion flickering across her face. "This early? What's going on?"

"I'll explain everything, just... meet me there," I said, shrugging slightly.

Nahla's groan drifted after me as I left the room.

Nahla strolled into my living room, still rubbing sleep from her eyes, dressed in an oversized hoodie and joggers. I was perched on the edge of the ottoman, looking out over the morning light filtering through the window when I heard her footsteps.

She stopped just shy of the couch, fidgeting with something in her hand and glancing anywhere but at me.

"So, um... about the credit card you gave me," She started, clearing her throat and giving me a half-guilty, half-innocent look.

I raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"Look, I didn't mean to... go overboard. It just sort of... happened. We were at "the store", and Amina said we'd just look. But then, you know... Mariam got excited and found all these cute new collections, and next thing I knew..." She hesitated, eyes darting nervously. "Well, we were buying things, and I thought I'd keep it light, but I didn't notice until we'd gotten to check out, and then it was just... too late to back out."

"Nahla..." I started, a bit thrown off. "I thought Lucy collected that card from you weeks ago."

Her face paled, then flushed, as she bit her lip.

"Oh, right... about that." She hesitated, still clutching the card. "I might've told your assistant that you said I could keep it." Her gaze shifted around the room, trying to avoid eye contact as she continued, "You know, just a tiny... creative adjustment?"

She trailed off abruptly, realizing that she'd said too much, her mouth shutting as quickly as it had opened. She ducked slightly and shuffled the card behind her back as if that would somehow make it invisible.

I narrowed my eyes, suddenly piecing together the faint smirk on her face and the subtle attempts to cover her tracks. "Nahla," I said, trying to suppress my exasperation, "what exactly have you been doing?"

Her cheeks reddened as she tried to smile sheepishly. "Forget I ever said that?"

Before I could say another word, she stretched her arms and let out a loud yawn, eyes squinting as though she were just now waking up. "Wait... so, if you didn't know about that, then why did you wake me up so early?"

I folded my arms, managing a small sigh. "You're not in trouble this time, Nahla. But I do need... advice."

As Nahla's eyes widened, disbelief painted across her face, she shook her head, letting out a dramatic gasp, as I finished recounting the events from the night before.

"Wow," She said, stunned. "That's... something I wouldn't tolerate from a boy," She concluded, hands on her hips.

My brows snapped together at that. "You wouldn't tolerate it?" I repeated, my voice immediately hardening. "Are you talking to a boy, Nahla?"

Her hands shot up defensively, her eyes as wide as saucers. "What? Me? No! Of course not," She said, too quickly.

I narrowed my gaze, not quite believing her but knowing well enough that if she was seeing someone, I'd be aware of it. I kept close tabs on her life, and she knew she wasn't allowed to see anyone yet. Sighing, I let it go—for now.

She recovered quickly, though, crossing her arms with a smirk. "Oh my god, what did this Layla do to my brother?" Her grin grew as she took a step closer, peering at me with teasing disbelief. "This is the first time you're ever asking about what to get a girl."

She paused, her gaze turning curious and a bit playful. "Actually, no, scratch that—this is the first time you've ever even talked about a girl."

She stepped closer and announced, "I'm going to check your temperature."

She placed a soft hand on my forehead, and I barely held back a slight eye-roll at her theatrics. Her touch didn't bother me, but the fact that she announced it, even though she knew, was a faint reminder of something... old. Shaking off the thought, I cut in, "Are you helping me or not?"

She grinned, her eyes lighting up. "Of course I am," she replied, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "What did you have in mind?"

"Nothing," I admitted, feeling the misstep in that answer instantly.

She looked at me, incredulous. "Nothing?" She drew out the word, then tilted her head as she thought. "Well, as a girl... if a guy made me mad, he'd need to get me some really pretty flowers before I could even consider forgiving him."

She looked back at me, her eyes going wide as she realized what she'd said. She backtracked immediately. "No, no, I didn't mean it like that! Because obviously... and I'm not even allowed to talk to boys, remember?"

I couldn't help but smirk at how she quoted my rule back to me.

She cleared her throat, shaking off her slip. "Anyway, I just meant that, as a girl, that's the kind of thing that could help."

Taking her advice to heart, I asked, "So, where do I get flowers?"

Nahla's face twisted into an expression that was almost pained. "You really don't know where the florist is, do you?"

Truthfully, I had no idea. I'd sent flowers to the women in my family before, like Ammi, Nahla, Sahla, and a few of my aunts, but that was handled by my assistants. I never bothered to find out where the shop was or which flowers were chosen.

But Layla deserved more than just a mere delivery this time. She deserved something real from me—something I'd put in the effort for personally. I wanted to be the one to get this, not rely on someone else to handle it, especially knowing why I am doing this.

I shook my head, admitting quietly, "No. I want to get this myself." I thought about how I'd have been thrilled to bring her flowers on any other day, and it stung that the first time I'd be doing this was because I had to make up for disappointing her.

Nahla's lips pursed in thought. "Hmm, you could order them and pick them up... or just have them delivered," She said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Either way would work."

I must have looked a little lost because she sighed, giving me a look of mock disappointment that could rival a mother's. She held out her hand. "Here, give me one of your phones."

After a second's pause, I handed it over, watching her fingers fly across the screen as she After a second's pause, I handed it over, watching her fingers fly across the screen as she navigated the florist's website with practiced ease.

As she tapped away, she tilted her head with a mischievous smile. "You know, you should also get her some other gifts too." She said and then playfully wiggled her eyebrows.

As I watched Nahla scroll through her phone, her fingers scrolling through the screen as she ordered flowers and whatever else she thought would fix my blunder with Layla, my stomach churned with a strange mix of nerves and anticipation.

"Don't be nervous, Akhi," She chirped, her tone bright and encouraging. "Do you know how many girls are dying to have you? I'm not even kidding you. My friends, girls at my school, girls on social media, girls in my DMs..." She trailed off, scanning my face for a reaction.

I shot her a warning look, the corners of my mouth twitching upwards despite myself. It was sweet of her to try and boost my confidence, but she had no idea how uncomfortable it made me. It felt like being thrust under a spotlight when I'd much rather linger in the shadows.

"But they can only get that watered-down version of you," She added. "Nadir." She said to which she gagged. Her words sent a warmth through me, a slight reprieve from the nerves gnawing at my insides.

"Enough with that," I mumbled, brushing off her compliments. It was always the same dynamic with her, my little sister always had a knack for getting under my skin in the most endearing way. I thought back to her banter with Nadir, our brother, all the time. They had this relentless teasing relationship that often veered into absurdity. I knew she had a close bond with him, filled with laughter and jabs that only siblings could share. It was mostly Nadir's fault, always being a bit too extra, but it didn't bother me in the slightest.

"I mean, seriously, how could anyone resist?" She continued, seemingly unfazed by my discomfort. I could feel my cheeks heat up, and I focused intently on the ground, willing the moment to pass.

I leaned back, feeling the weight of the past few days settle over me. Finally, as she finished up, I asked, "By the way, how's Huda doing?"

Nahla scoffed, giving me a pointed look. "You're lucky you're intimidating, you know that? That girl would have completely lost her mind and barged in here by now if she wasn't scared of you."

I grunted, trying to ignore the discomfort that seemed to deepen with every mention of her. This was the reason I'd avoided spending weekends at my parents' house lately. Coming here usually meant a collision with Huda, and I wasn't keen on dealing with it right now. Since the whole situation unraveled, she'd been relentless, constantly calling and messaging. She'd even come to my office more than once, though thankfully, I'd been out each time.

"She's still not taking it well," Nahla went on, her tone matter-of-fact. "I mean, I get it, but sheesh... It's not like we're 'friends' anyway, since apparently, she's older." Nahla's voice oozed with sarcasm as she rolled her eyes.

"Has she been talking to Ammi?" I asked.

"Of course she has." Nahla shrugged. "Ammi loves her, but she won't entertain any nonsense. Huda knows better than to try anything."

"Good," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "But remember, be respectful. She's still older than you."

Nahla gave a slight nod, but her expression remained unchanged. "Fine, fine. I'll behave."

"Inform her to meet me after Dhuhr prayer."

"Should I tell her to meet you in Ammi's majlis?" She asked knowing I wouldn't meet Huda in my quarters nor in Abu's majlis. I wouldn't go to her room as well or anywhere else in the house.

"Yes," I replied.

After praying with Abu, Uncle Hamza, and Nadir at the Masjid connected to the house, I moved to Ammi's  majlis, bracing myself for a tense conversation. I wanted to keep this civil, but Nahla had warned me that Huda's emotions were fragile and unpredictable these days.

When Huda entered, she walked in hesitantly, her face filled with pain as she took a seat across from me. Her gaze fell to her hands, which twisted anxiously in her lap. "Ya Asad," She began, her voice trembling, "I never knew you hated me this much."

"How are you doing?" I asked, completely ignoring what she said. No matter what, at the end of the day, Huda was my blood. She'd spent a lot of her childhood in my house, mostly with my siblings but we'd meet whenever I was visiting. Her mother had done great service to my family that money would never be able to repay and for that, I will always be grateful.

"You don't even care about me, so stop asking how I am doing." She replied with eyes filling up with tears.

I held back a sigh, trying to stay patient. "If you say anything like that again, I'm walking out," I said firmly. "You know me, Huda. I won't entertain this kind of talk."

Her face fell, but she pressed on, her words tinged with desperation. "I just don't understand, Ya Asad. How could you do this? To me of all people? I... I just—Is loving someone a crime?" Her voice cracked, her gaze pleading. "Because that's all I did. I loved you."

I shook my head, feeling the disconnect between us growing. This situation wasn't right, and yet she couldn't let go. I should have never found out her feelings then maybe all of this will be easier to deal with. I stood to leave, resolved to end the conversation before it spiraled further.

But before I could take a step, she reached out, wrapping her arms around my hand as she burst into tears. "Please, Ya Asad. I don't mind," She choked out. "If I have to, I'll even be your second wife. I don't mind at all. Just... please don't leave me for another girl."

Her words barely registered as I became uncomfortably aware of her touch. The pressure of her hands on my arm felt too close, too invasive. My mind flashed back, brushing against vague, muddled memories that never fully came into focus. Moments from years ago, from my late teens, lurked there, clouded but potent enough to twist in my stomach whenever someone crossed this invisible boundary.

There was an unexplainable weight behind those recollections, moments that had solidified my aversion to being touched. For years, I'd dismissed them, too blurred to confront directly, but they had still shaped me, making me hyper-aware of any touch that wasn't my own choice.

Even now, the sensation of Huda's grip made my skin crawl. It stung if I'd be honest. I never allowed anyone this close, not since those vague memories first surfaced. I'd always insisted on distance, even something as simple as refusing to shake hands. In boardrooms, I avoided contact and kept to myself. Only my niece, my sisters Nahla and Sahla, and my mother ever crossed that line, and only when I initiated it.

The unsettling feeling built until it turned into a heavy weight pressing against my chest. My arm felt heavy and I couldn't move it even when I willed it to get itself out of her touch. When she finally let go, I pulled my arm back, my pulse racing so fast, and swallowed down the bitter nausea that crept into my throat.

I took a step back forward, somehow. Very slowly and carefully, I stepped out of the majlis, my mind in turmoil and my mood completely spoiled.

——————
Hello readers,

How did we find the chapter?🙂‍↔️ Is there a chance of forgiving Asad in the next coming chapters? Girls, have you decided no violence... yet?😅

How was Huda? Is she our favorite character yet?🤭

What about Nahla?

Today's update came late because I was enjoying reviewing the last chapter with you guys on IG. I'm loving all the comments and enthusiasm, keep them up and we might just get another update in a few days💕

Drop your comments as always and let's connect on IG: husna_thewriter