Layla

It was already evening by the time I'd marked off my last task of the day on Notion. I'd thrown myself into schoolwork for hours, clearing the entire list and neatly crossing off every little goal I'd set. Usually, it felt satisfying to wrap up, but today the relief barely surfaced.

After studying, I'd planned a cozy Pilates session and a boba date with the girls, something to decompress and recharge a bit. But there was no way I could pretend to be my usual self right now, laughing and chatting like nothing was bothering me. I canceled, not even bothering to tell them why, just saying I wasn't in the mood and would make it up to them soon. They understood, of course; they always did. But that's when the frustration really kicked in, Asad's absence had cut into my plans, and a little part of my joy, and left me feeling completely unsettled.

Last night still lingered sharply in my mind, a mix of irritation and confusion. I kept going over it, remembering how I'd gotten ready, how I'd felt as I waited, how annoyed I'd felt as time passed, and he didn't even show up. It was that dreadful feeling of being left hanging, of holding onto hope just long enough to feel let down. By the time I'd realized he wasn't coming, I'd felt such an urge to cry out of sheer anger. But I'd willed myself to stay calm, to sit there and keep it all in. I wasn't going to cry over this, not a single tear.

It wasn't until this morning that I finally received a couple of short messages from him—just two brief apologies, explaining there'd been some sort of "emergency." Two messages. No calls, no real explanation, just two bland, vague lines that felt more like afterthoughts than anything else. My phone lay silent all day after that, and even now, hours later, he hadn't made any further attempts to reach out. I'd actually considered blocking him after that second message, as impulsive as that sounded. I almost wanted him gone from my sight, but then I stopped myself. Blocking him would make it seem like he mattered too much as he had somehow succeeded in leaving a dent in my calm. No, blocking him was not happening.

And yet, something about all this kept tugging at my mind, unraveling bit by bit. Why did it bother me this much? I hadn't planned to feel anything toward any man, at least not yet. I was too focused on the million other things that mattered, things that wouldn't disappoint me or vanish without reason. But then he came along, with that calm demeanor and those strange, very strange, oddly captivating eyes, a constant distraction hovering on the edge of my thoughts. And now, here I was, stuck feeling irritated by someone who, if I was being honest, had managed to make my heart flutter in ways I hadn't even realized until he went and messed it all up. The worst part wasn't even that he'd stood me up; it was the afterthought he'd made of the apology. As though I wasn't worth a bit more effort, more than just two short messages. That stung more than I wanted to admit.

As I sat in front of my mirror to start my weekly self-care routine, the sight of my irritated face in the reflection only reminded me of him once again. His audacity. How could he think that two messages would suffice after standing me up? The more I thought about it, the more I seethed. There were no frantic calls to make up for it, no voice filled with concern or regret. Just two cold texts and silence. Did he really think that's all it took? With an apparent stubborn girl like me?

I stirred the herbal face mask, scooping some onto my fingers, relishing the earthy, floral scent. My mom, being from a tribe that worshipped all forms of self-care, had given Aunty Yamaniya the recipe a while ago, and Aunty had perfected it at her spa. It always had this soothing effect, almost grounding, and today I needed it more than ever. As I applied the mask, smoothing it over my skin, I reminded myself of something I've always known I'm not the type of girl who lets people treat her like a second thought. I knew my worth, and knew that I deserved respect.

I could feel my irritation calm slightly as I layered on the mask. I wasn't someone who chased after anyone; I had my own life, my dreams, and my standards. Asad could only fit into a corner of that life, not at the center. And certainly, if he thought for one second that I'd settle for someone who couldn't even handle his commitments—especially when it came to me—he was sorely mistaken.

I'm the kind of girl who knows what she wants and is willing to wait until it arrives. And if Asad couldn't measure up, well, I had absolutely no intention of shrinking my expectations. There's no room in my life for a guy who doesn't know how to show up or handle things properly. If he didn't get that, then he didn't deserve any emotional investment from me. Why did I even agree that this was the time to let a guy in? Tsk. Layla, you are going crazy. The self-affirmations are too much now.

It was clear. As I spread the mask along my cheekbones, I felt it settle in, cool and refreshing. This was all the care I was putting into myself tonight—not a single ounce of my energy was going to be wasted on him. This was my time, my peace, and my worth.

Just as my alarm for the mask was about to go off, I heard a familiar knock, and Ya Malik entered, looking at me with that disapproving, almost fatherly gaze he often reserved for when he thought I was doing something ridiculous.

"Why am I suddenly stuck between you and Asad?" He asked, his tone as flat as if he'd announced the weather.

I blinked, taken aback. "Huh? What are you even talking about?"

He sighed, rubbing his forehead, clearly annoyed. "Well, Asad is waiting for you downstairs." He shot me a look that clearly said he was not amused. "And for the record, I'm not coming back to ask you to come down, so figure it out yourself."

With that, he turned and walked out, muttering something under his breath. I could barely make out the words, but I caught enough to sense his irritation. "This is weird and annoying."

I just stared at the door, completely confused and not sure if I'd heard him right. Asad was... waiting downstairs.

I paused, debating whether or not to go down. Part of me wanted to stay here and ignore him—after all, he did stand me up, and I'd given myself a thorough pep talk about my self-worth since yesterday. But then Ya Malik's warning drifted back to me, and, if I was honest, a little curiosity tugged at me too. I wanted to know if he was actually here to explain himself.

I rinsed off my mask, and after patting my face dry, slipped into a baby-blue simple dress with long sleeves, delicate stones sprinkled across the cuffs, and a faint shimmer. I draped a matching veil over my hair, which, thankfully, was cooperating today. A quick dab of moisturizer, and I was as ready as I'd ever be. I took a breath, steadied myself, and walked outside.

As I stepped out, I stopped by the door and scanned the driveway, noticing he was still sitting in his car. I folded my arms, silently counting to ten, deciding that if he didn't step out by the time I reached ten, I'd head back to my room. One... two... three... four— And then I saw him open the door and step out of the car. The car parked in front of me was rugged, all sharp lines and bold structure, looking like it could take on any terrain without a second thought. It stood taller than most cars, with broad, intimidating tires and an aggressive stance that felt both powerful and unrefined. The matte black paint gave it a brooding, mysterious edge as if it belonged out in the wild rather than here in front of a house.

I rolled my eyes before walking toward him.

He wore a deep blue Arewa jampa, a traditional outfit that fit his broad frame perfectly, with neat embroidery running along the shoulders and collar. He also wore sunglasses, as he often did, which made reading his expression impossible, but the way he scratched his head nervously clued me in. His body language was tentative and unsure, an unfamiliar look on him.

I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing here?"

He rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled. "I'm... groveling. According to Google."

I gave him a confused look. "Grovelling?"

"According to Google, anyway," He added, straightening up a little. "But Google also thinks I don't exist, that I'm also not one person and I own a Tibetan Mastiff named Cookie, so who really knows?"

At his words, a faint smile tugged at the corner of my lips, the thought of him looking up groveling tips on Google making me want to laugh. But I caught myself. No, no, I reminded myself, quickly masking the smile. I was still mad, and I wasn't about to let that soften me.

He noticed my restraint, pausing, and then said, "Layla, I understand you're upset—angry, even. And I just... I'm here to ask for a chance to redeem myself."

Without missing a beat, I crossed my arms and replied, "No."

A flicker of determination crossed his face. "Please."

I raised a brow, pretending to consider it. "Fine," I finally relented. "You have three seconds." He took a breath, and just as he opened his mouth, I continued, "And...your time is done."

He blinked, taken aback. "But I didn't even get to speak!"

"Exactly the point," I replied, my expression unchanging, letting the silence settle between us. His shoulders tensed, and then he sighed, looking like he was searching for something to say.

After a beat, I finally softened a bit, tipping my head. "Fine. Say what you have to say."

He seemed to gather himself, then cleared his throat. "A work emergency came up. They needed my attention right then, and it took longer than I anticipated." He trailed off, watching me as if gauging my reaction.

I just raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "That's all?"

His brow furrowed. "It was urgent. I had to work until the early morning to get everything under control. I'm sorry."

I crossed my arms, tilting my head to the side, my gaze steady. "I deserve to know what exactly happened at the office, and to what extent it warranted you standing me up like that." I needed to know what happened because if not, I might end up not excusing the behavior at all now and probably in the future.

Asad sighed, glancing off to the side before meeting my eyes again as if gauging how much I'd want to hear. "Alright," he said finally, running a hand through his hair. "It started with a quality check on one of our biggest ongoing projects products, there was a supply issue—a huge batch of raw materials was mislabelled, and the wrong goods were shipped, supposedly. It was a sabotage plan that set off a chain of problems for our production lines." He paused, watching her expression before continuing.

"Then, to top it off, our warehouse system had a supposed system glitch, so the stock that was available wasn't being properly tracked. It was...chaos, honestly," He admitted. "That's why they called me in. They were all scrambling, and it needed immediate attention. The whole team was there—finance, logistics, operations. We were strategizing on the fly, making sure we'd control before it all goes south." He leaned back, letting out a sigh as if reliving the stress of it all.

I held his gaze, my face unreadable. "So, it took you the whole night?"

"Yeah, almost," He said. "We didn't even finish until early morning. And, well, my phones were buried somewhere under reports and call sheets. I know now, I should've reached out somehow, even just to say I couldn't make it. I didn't mean for the night to get that out of hand, and I didn't want to leave you waiting." His shoulders relaxed, and he seemed almost relieved to get it all out. At least they got to the bottom of the problem.

I just stood there, letting his words sink in. I noticed how he didn't try to sound smart or make me feel like I didn't know enough about his field. "Sounds like a nightmare of a night," I said slowly, my expression softening just a fraction. But then I straightened, a touch of steel returning to my voice. "So, you were just busy?"

He picked up on my tone, his face earnest. "I was. And it was wrong not to reach out, especially after everything I'd planned for us yesterday evening. You deserved a heads-up, at the very least. I'll make sure that doesn't happen again."

"Hm," I glanced off to the side, not letting myself soften. My voice was sharp. "I am not going to ask you to let me know what's happening before I'm left hanging again next time, by the way." I said it as a suggestion but if he was smart, he'd have picked the message in my tone.

For a moment, my resolve faltered, feeling the sincerity in his words. But I took a deep breath, maintaining my composure, reminding myself that this wasn't a free pass. "And what did Google say my response would be?" I asked, raising a brow, trying to sound as aloof as possible.

"Oh," he said, a slight smile crossing his lips. "It said you'd pretend to not forgive me, that you'd still talk to me, but...uninterestedly."

I let a small smile slip before masking it, my gaze flickering back to him. "Hm. Maybe Google was wrong this time... because I don't forgive you. I don't forgive easily."

Asad slid his sunglasses off, I felt my breath catch. Those eyes, deep, stormy with flecks of gold—always managed to throw me off guard. I had tried to train myself to look away, to be unaffected, but each time I failed. His gaze always felt intense, piercing, almost like he could see the annoyance I was working so hard to hold onto.

Then he stepped to the side and, with a slight tilt of his head, opened his passenger's car door. It was the kind of car you'd expect to handle deserts, mountains, and everything in between, with no concern for dents or scratches along the way. "My sister mentioned this might make you consider forgiving me," He said, his voice low, almost careful. The way he said "consider" felt oddly respectful, like he wasn't just assuming I'd brush this aside and move on. And I had to admit—internally, of course—that I appreciated that subtle touch of humility.

I hesitated, but curiosity got the best of me. Taking a step closer, I peered into the passenger side, and I had to resist the urge to let out an actual gasp. The entire front seat was a sea of pink roses, plush and overflowing, so thick that they blanketed the floor. The delicate fragrance rose to meet me, and I could feel the warmth blooming up my cheeks. They were so carefully arranged, petals dewy and perfect, like something out of a dream.

Then, sitting among the flowers were three carefully placed boxes. The first was unmistakable, with that luxurious almost burnt-orange shade, sleek and sharp-edged in black, tied with a perfect black ribbon that whispered pure elegance. I knew exactly where it came from; the brand needed no name. Wow, it's not even my birthday, I thought.

Next to it was a small, white box with a soft, velvety texture, with the brand name written at the bottom in black. The box looked expensive and refined like it held something precious and handpicked, each detail carefully considered.

But the final box was the one that stole my attention—a rich sky-blue one, iconic in its own right. Its color alone was enough to bring an instant feeling of timelessness, a hint that whatever it held was a piece known for its artful, classic touch.

My lips parted slightly, and, to my utter dismay, I felt my reaction slip out before I could stop it. "Wow," I muttered under my breath, feeling my face warm up. Realizing my slip, I immediately straightened up, brushing it off as if it were nothing. "Oh. Not too bad," I said, keeping my tone casual and my expression nonchalant. "It... looks good."

I hesitated, eyeing the boxes carefully before I turned to him. "I... can't accept all of these," I said, reaching out tentatively to brush my fingers over the roses instead. "Maybe just the flowers, though."

He shook his head gently. "I insist," He said, not a hint of wavering in his tone.

I bit back a sigh. "If I do take them, I probably won't even use them," I replied, hoping he'd understand. Not only were they expensive for an "apology gift", but my family also wouldn't appreciate me taking it just like that. Usually, it's okay to get gifts from a potential but when elders are equally involved in the matter.

Asad raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Your brother gave me the green light, so please, take it."

My brows furrowed, the words tumbling out of me before I could stop them. "Why does he need to know everything?"

He paused, his gaze softening slightly. "Because that's the right thing to do," He said simply, and that silenced me. Then, more thoughtfully, he added, "I've recently come to realize the norms nowadays when it comes to courtship, but I want to do what's right by you."

His tone was sincere, and then he added something that left me a little speechless, "I have sisters too," He said, and as he handed me one of the bags, his gaze softened. "And I'd want the right things done by them as well."

A quiet calm fell over me, but as I reached for the second bag, something unexpected happened. As our fingers barely brushed, he immediately dropped the bag as if he'd touched something scalding hot that had burned him. My heart lurched, and the shock jolted me a little. Had I misread him somehow? But, no, the look in his eyes... It wasn't disgust or anything unpleasant. He looked as if he'd touched fire.

I bit my lip, the wheels in my mind whirring, and I could feel myself starting to overthink. Was I just reading too much into this? I tried to convince myself, tried to shove down the feeling. It was nothing. Nothing.

Forcing my mind to slow down, I told myself that his reaction was because of his respect for boundaries. It was normal—Islamically and culturally, we were to avoid touch. Yes, that had to be it. And I'd certainly respect that too.

Stop, I told myself, shaking my head slightly. You're overthinking this.

I blinked, quickly dismissing the thought, a little convinced with my little self-pep talk.

"Apologies," He murmured, quickly bending to retrieve the bag. But this time, he didn't try handing it to me again. He simply looked up at me, eyes unwavering, and something about that expression... I felt my resolve crumble, a warmth I hadn't let myself feel since the last conversation.

The flicker of forgiveness tugged at me, a feeling I tried to ignore but failed. I wasn't going to forgive him that easily, that's not me. It has never been me and will never be me. Especially not on this. Whenever my siblings would upset me, I made sure to take my sweet time before forgiving them hence where I got the title of being stubborn. The same with all my family and friends.

Then, out of nowhere, a thought sparked. Something that had been at the back of mind for weeks now. Oh, there's no forgiving for you today, I lamented in my head. I narrowed my eyes at him as if catching him off-guard. "Why did you tell Ya Malik about the car and insurance the other day?"

He blinked, looking genuinely perplexed. "What are we talking about?"

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Hello dearest readers,

Hope this chapter met you well! First off, I'd like to show my appreciation for your constant comments and dms, thank you! I adore them all, keep them coming💕 The last chapter got so much engagement hence why I am posting earlier than usual. I'd probably do the same and give double or triple update this weekend if we get more comments and dms😁

I've a little game for y'all: guess what brand Asad's car and the three gift boxes he got for Layla are based on the description🤭 If anyone gets them, they can decide when our next update comes😉

But the million dollar question, do we forgive our extroverted man Asad now?😔

Drop your comments and dm me your reviews as always on Instagram: husna_thewriter