Chapter 2
Fifteen minutes later, I'm jumping up the stairs with two containers of salad topped with chicken shawarma. Personally, it's not my favorite lunch with all the olives, and the occasional fatty chicken bites that pull a gag out of me. But Rafiq loves it, and I love to eat what he eats too.
I don't knock on the door. "Hey—"
The old rustic office is empty. I immediately reach for my phone and dial his number. Even if I tried to forget, I have his number memorized. It's muscle memory at this point. He's been the single person I call the most for years now.
He answers on the third ring. I don't wait. "Assalamu alaykum, I brought you lunch. Where'd you go?"
"I'm on that hill we've always loved to hike. Come."
He didn't even have to ask. I'll be there. "Can't stay long though. Class starts in less than two hours."
I hear him smiling. "I know that. I work there too, remember."
"How could I ever forget? Alright, assalamu alaykum."
The drive is about thirty minutes long. When I pull up to the parking lot, I can't see his car in our usual spot. But I figure he must have parked somewhere else.
I make my way to the top, to our favorite spot ever. It's hidden under some trees, and slightly on the other slope of the mountain. Because it's a very cool summer, all you can see is a mass of green trees, and it's beautiful subhanallah. I can't find him there, but I see the picnic blanket, which also serves as a prayer most days, laid down in our spot. I look around, confused.
What?
I'm reaching for my phone when someone screams in my ear "Bou!"
I jump so high I almost see stars and clutch my heart. "Rafiq! I always told you to stop that. What if you traumatize me?" When I was growing up, my mother always scolded my sister for her jump scares on the siblings, and always claimed that they can traumatize you. I do not know if that is possible, but what is adulthood if not repeating what you've always heard your parents say.
Not everything, though. Some things should have been left in the past a while ago.
His boyish smile brings a smile to my face, and I relax my shoulders. Although today has been a rollercoaster already, I allow myself to smile. Maybe everything will be okay; I can't remember the last time we've joked this way.
I spoke too soon.
We get settled on the carpet, and I bring out the containers. "So, what'd you get us? You didn't have to do that." he says.
I smile. We've had this exchange countless times before, and it never gets old. It's fun. And very corny. "I know, I wanted too. And chicken shawarma with salad. Your favorite." I say, opening it up.
"What about yourself?"
"Same thing."
"You don't like olives, and you barely like the chicken too."
"that's alright, you enjoy it."
His smile falls, and he looks back at the sea of green trees in front of us. I notice the change in mood, and once again, I find myself hopeless. This has happened countless times before. I say something, and he closes up. Or more like I share something with him, and he gives me the cold shoulder. It's as though he hates for us to share things together. But it couldn't bring me more joy to try out the things he loves all the time! I may not enjoy it as much, but I enjoy it with him. He is very important to me.
"Let's get to eating then." I say, trying to lighten his mood.
He grabs the spoon from me and starts. He eats awfully fast, which makes me wonder what's the rush the whole time. I try to make small conversation, but the conversation has officially died. He is barely responsive. Maybe this is what he talked about when he mentioned us being barely functional towards the end. We had a lot of these tense moments. But that was always because he closed up on me.
Ten minutes, and he's done with his while I'm barely halfway through mine. The tang of the olives is bit much to my liking, and just as expected, the chicken is too greasy. But I keep eating because I'm hungry, he enjoys it, and at the end of the day, food is food.
"Oh, that was good, Alhamdulilah." He leans back and looks over. "Can I have yours?"
"Sure! You loved it that much? damn, you're a hungry boy."
"mhrbg." He says.
"what? Don't talk with your mouth full. Manners!"
"man," he says, after he swallows, "not boy."
I shake my head. "Whatever, boy."
We make more conversation, and this time it's less clipped. But because I haven't eaten since morning, I do feel my stomach eating itself. At one point, wind rises, and it gets a bit chilly. That's when Rafiq seems to remember something.
He quickly puts his plate down. "I'm so sorry, damn I really suck." From his left side, I notice the bag he came back with when he scared me was from my favorite shawarma place. "I got you a wrap. No greasy chicken, and no olives."
How did he know this would happen? was it obvious that I wouldn't enjoy my food as much?
But before he hands me the bag, he stands up pulling me up, and pulls out from the bag the red scarf he gifted me a long time ago. Three days ago, I left it at "his" house when packing because I couldn't bear to keep it with when my life was in shambles. It was a sour reminder that my life was in shambled.
He wraps it with such focus around my neck that I start laughing. "I swear wrapping a scarf isn't that hard. Here let me--" his dead stare stops me. But his curved-up lip gives him away. He's barely containing himself too.
I laugh more. "Fine, sir. You do it with your big boy focused face on."
He doesn't laugh, and when his eyes find me, I realize that something shifted in the air. Suddenly, this is very serious. We haven't been this close, both physically and figuratively in a very long time. And it's moments like these that make me think maybe he's right, and we had been drifting apart. Could I have been that blind?
After he ties it around my neck, he keeps his hands on my shoulders, staring intently into my eyes. Frankly, it makes me nervous. It seems like those movies-worthy moments that never happen in real life. I would have laughed if it didn't seem grossly inappropriate. What can I say, it's my coping mechanism.
"Red really is your color." Then he kisses my forehead and just as quickly, grabs my hand to sit down. "Please eat your wrap, I know you're hungry."
I'm a bit fazed by what just happened, but I do notice that he sits closer to me this time, and occasionally rubs his thumb on my palm. All of this makes me really want to live in this moment and fully be into the conversation, which makes me forget to unwrap my lunch, and start eating. And while we were having a good time, on the way down when Rafiq notices the untouched bag in my hand, he loses all color in his face, and speeds down the hill, leaving me behind.
Frankly, his moods are starting to get under my skin. I don't understand him. one moment he's fine, and the next he's angry at me. I find his car next to mine, which reassures me that he wasn't there when I got here. He drove somewhere to get me food, and a scarf. That seems a bit much just to bolt away from me as soon as you can.
But I won't give up. I have three months to make him realize that we should stay together.
"I'll get going now, see you at the office," he says in front of his car door.
That's when I notice the book on his dashboard, and I get an idea. If he hates for us to share the same foods this much, maybe we can share the same hobbies! I'll read that book to have something to talk about with him next time. It may not be my favorite genre, but for him, I'd do anything. I'd change myself just a bit if it meant having more to talk about.
I'm about to reach for it, when he stands between me and the door and shakes his head. "don't even think about it."
I frown. "What?"
He stares into my eyes for a long time. "What kind of books have you been reading lately? What cuisine have you been cooking?"
I lean on his car next to him, silent. "Exactly what I thought." he whispers.
To be frank, I haven't done those things in a few months. I was busy... trying out the things he liked. I really want to be perfect for him.
"When we first got married, do you remember how much you cooked? And how much you read?" he lets out a breathless airy laugh. "It was a mess. If you weren't studying, you were reading, or you were cooking, and the kitchen was a huge mess. Flour everywhere, and all the utensils in the sink, but it was fun. You had a lot of fun, so it was fun to come home and find such a good ambiance."
He looks at me like he just got an idea. "Why don't you cook me something for tomorrow?"
I raise an eyebrow. "You love cooking. I want you to do more of it." he continues.
Could it really be that simple? You love something, and you just do it. But relationships are a two-way street. Some adjustments must be made to accommodate your partner. And I do not want to be so different that he decides we're incompatible, especially now when our marriage is at stake.
"but,--"
"No buts, Ihsan."
He turns to face his car door. "let's go, we'll be late. I'll wait till you start your car."
Once I get to the driver seat, he gets in and lowers the window closest to me. "See you in thirty, Suha."
I roll my eyes at the nickname. He pulls out of the parking lot, but before I follow him, I get out and do a sajda asshukr. I'm not sure why, but I feel like God is doing me a favor right now. I won't just make him one plate, it will be a three-course meal. And it will be amazing.
About thirty minutes later, I pull into the academy's parking lot. Just as expected, Rafiq's car is already there. I park next to him and make my way to the entrance. That's when I hear his car door close.
I look at him, puzzled.
"I wanted to make sure you made it okay. Let's go." A warm sensation takes over my body. He leads the way into his office, not expecting anything in return, and leaving me no time to speak, and the way I have always felt around him; he would always be my favorite shoulder to lean on. He was my safe place, and I him.
"Come with me to the office for a second," he says.
But when we enter, we find Janan already sitting quite comfortably in his chair. Even I, his wife, do not do that.
I raise an eyebrow at him.
Janan gets up, and walks towards us rolling her hips. She puts an arm on rafiq's shoulder. "if you'll excuse us Ihsan, I need to talk to my fiancé." She says.
For a second, it feels like I misheard. "fiancé?" I say, looking into Rafiq's avoidant eyes. I wait for him to correct her, but it never comes.
Rafiq doesn't answer me, he just moves to close the door behind me but I back away from them. "are you going to say anything?" I shriek.
"yes, if you'll let me explain."
I blink a few times, in disbelief. "You have to explain something?" I shake my head. "No, that's it."
I swiftly walk out the door, and run down the stairs. I hate that I'm doing this in front of her, but I cannot help it. it feels like all my thoracic cage is pressing onto my heart, blocking my circulation. I hear him call, but I do not look back. I get into my car, and drive out.
Let him find a substitute to teach the evening class. Or better even, maybe she could teach them.
****
Ouu our MC is angry. So do we hate Rafiq, yet? Idk about you, but he's really getting on my nerves haha
anyways, I was wondering if any of you know a bit about design and want to try your hand at a new book cover for this story. I'm curious to see what you will come up with, and if I end up using it, ofc i will give you credit. If you want to do fan art, or even send me pictures of what you think the characters look like, that'll be fun. :)
If you're enjoying the story, share it with someone. This is just a fun endeavour, so honestly if you do that, it'll just be more fun to all read it together.
anyways, it's too late here. Gotta sleep, but as always, thanks for all the love on the story. You make my day 💕
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