part of my life despite him not knowing for years and while I can walk

away, even while it’ll be in pain, I can’t just wipe away everything. It’s a fact
that’s hard to swallow but one I’ll have to accept. Like everyone has said,
Ibrahim’s a good person and he’s going to be fine. I’m sure of it.”
Not having much to say in reply, Ibtihaj simply reached across the table and
took Ayra’s hand in hers. She gave it a gentle squeeze. With a small laugh,
Ayra squeezed back and they continued repeating the action until Thandiwe
got to their table, a wide tray in hand.
“I hope you don’t mind me having dinner with you two.” She told the best
friends as she put the plates down one after the other. “There’s nothing like
sharing stories over a warm meal.”
They told her they didn’t mind and she – Thandiwe – got them water and
more juice before she made herself comfortable on one of the seats and
gave them the names of the dishes she’d served them. There was Bobotie
which was mainly spiced minced meat baked with egg-based topping,
Potjiekos which was a stew with meat and vegetables that had been slow
cooked over an open flame, and then the Malva pudding which she
explained was made using butter, sugar, eggs, apricot jam, milk, flour, and
salt.
Thandiwe recommended they start with the Bobotie first and after they –
Ayra and Ibtihaj – had taken their first few spoons, she asked “So, what
family are you curious to know about? Quite a number of families own
properties here, each one of them wealthier than so many others.”
Ayra lowered her spoon and swallowed her food before she spoke. “The
Fahad family.” She then pointed towards the two photos on the walls.
“Particularly the ones in the picture. Fareeda and Salim Fahad and their son,
Ibrahim.”
Thandiwe looked from the photo of Salim and Fareeda to that of Ibrahim
and Bella and the smile that appeared on her face was a mix of emotions;
sadness, nostalgia, and a slice of fondness. She turned back to Ayra and
Ibtihaj.
“They’re a beautiful family but their tale is one that’s very, very sad. I’ve
been opportune to hear both sides as told by Salim and Fareeda and then
by their son, Ibrahim. They’re living proof that often times; the picture
perfect families are the ones with the deepest cracks and the most strained

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relationships. That picture perfect families are always the ones with the
most flaws.”
Ibtihaj took small bites from her food. Ayra didn’t. Thandiwe helped
herself with a spoonful of her Bobotie before she spoke again. “Fareeda
and Salim Fahad are fourth cousins. Before they got married, there wasn’t
much that brought them together apart from family events or certain
gatherings. He’s eight years older than she is and as at the time their
marriage was arranged, she was twenty and he was twenty- eight. Do not
think their marriage was one born out of love or out of their families
thinking they complimented each other…Fareeda was given to Salim to
hide the fact that he was a chronic womaniser who had no intentions to
settle down despite the ambitions he had.”
Ibtihaj stopped eating. Ayra’s heart sunk.
“Fareeda always said she was a naïve young lady who believed her parents
knew best and as at that time, she’d not heard much about Salim’s ways.
They got married in 1988 and there was nothing in that marriage for her
apart from infidelity and continuous heartbreak. Salim would be faithful on
some weeks and back to his ways on others. It was a never ending cycle and
she stayed until April, 1990 when she packed her things to leave. They said
they’d started the divorce process when Fareeda found out she was
pregnant and I’m sure you know what your religion stipulates should
happen should the woman be with child.”
Ayra knew clearly and if there was one thing she was grateful for, it was that
she and Ibrahim did not have a child together neither was she expecting
one with him. That would have complicated things in so many ways and
while having a child was a blessing, she knew she wouldn’t have been able
to cope.
Thandiwe continued. “Living in his house was no threat so she stayed,
determined to wait until the baby was born before she left. Maybe it was the
fact that a life had been added to theirs or maybe it was the fact that
Fareeda wasn’t going to put up with him for much longer. Whatever it was,
Salim did his best to be better and by the time Ibrahim was born in
December that same year, both of them had agreed to not get divorced and
they tried to do their best as a couple. It was easier said than done though.”
Ayra sat with her spine as straight as a rod, afraid that she’d miss even the
tiniest detail if she did as much as move by the slightest inch. Ibtihaj sat the
same way, her gaze trained on Thandiwe.
“In February 1991, Salim’s political career kicked off with him starting his
climb up Atlantica’s diplomatic ranks. It couldn’t have been easy for

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Fareeda to navigate through making their relationship work and raise their
son on her own while cheering her husband on the way a wife is supposed
to. There was also the fact that Salim fell back to his old habits once in a
while. If he wasn’t in one party or the other, there was a case with one
woman or the other. They said Fareeda never let such issues slide and more
often than not, it lead to them screaming in that mighty house of theirs
where they lived with little Ibrahim and a few long-term housekeepers and
chefs. Each time I try to picture it, it’s ugly in my head and you should hear
Ibrahim talk about all he could remember. It was really bad.”
Ayra felt the familiar prickling sensation of tears, heading up towards her
eyes. She did nothing to push them back. She wouldn’t have been able to
do so even if she tried.
Thandiwe’s exhale spoke volumes. “I would love to tell you it got easier but
it didn’t. He was always out of the house and she was alone with a growing
child. When a relationship is as shaky as theirs, there’s no way one can be a
perfect parent and even they know they weren’t the best. They both had
their dreams and most of it, especially the ones they couldn’t achieve, fell
on Ibrahim. When he tried to be stubborn, they used force as it was what
they knew best, so when kids his age were doing one thing or the other,
Ibrahim was being moulded into what his parents wanted. They wanted him
to go into the sciences like them and when Salim got really popular among
the Atlantican envoy to South Africa, they wanted Ibrahim to come down
here to study but Ibrahim didn’t agree. He went all the way to England and
not even them gifting him the mansion with the tall coconut trees could
change his mind and bring him back to where they wanted him to be.”
Ayra blinked and a tear slipped, sliding down her cheek. Ibtihaj wasn’t
crying or moved to tears but it was clear the story touched deep. Thandiwe
continued.
“From that moment, the stories had two sides to it. Fareeda and Salim were
forced to reconcile the differences that had hung between them all along
and Ibrahim wanted nothing more to do with them but he couldn’t ever
bring himself to cut them out of his life, no matter how tempting it got. He
made friends in school and when they first came here, he pointed out the
woman he was in love with; Bella. I didn’t like her but I didn’t tell him that.
I never told him that.”
Ibtihaj asked the question that sat on Ayra’s tongue. “Why?”
“Don’t get me wrong, they did look good together and he knew what he
saw in her that made him fall in love with her but the first time they came
here to have dinner, she seemed like a fake; as though there was a mask she

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was wearing just so he didn’t see who she was underneath. His friends had
that same vibe too but he appeared happy with them and I didn’t mind it.”
A half smile lifted the edges of her lips. “His parents didn’t like them for
him but they knew better than to try to forcefully cut him off from them so
they pretended as though they didn’t know about a lot of things he did.
They always visited the mansion when he wasn’t around and Fareeda, God
bless her soul, always ensured the house and its surroundings stayed neat so
he never had to worry about anything when he came. There were days
when she came here and she cried. On other days, she came with Salim and
sometimes they argued. Other times they laughed.”
She turned to the photo of them. “That particular day, they argued at first
and by the time they finished eating, they were laughing. All of a sudden,
she started crying and he let her. When they finished, they footed their bill
and I asked if I could take a photo of them. They said they didn’t want their
faces to show and I said okay but Fareeda turned to look at me at the
shutter went off and I couldn’t bring myself to take another one. A week
later or maybe even two weeks later, Ibrahim came with Bella and they
weren’t as lovey dovey as they’d been before. It was then I learned that
they’d gone to Aomi to inform his parents they wanted to get married but
Salim and Fareeda had refused. They said they’d never give their blessings
and maybe it was wrong of me but I was relieved. They were still a lovely
couple but he loved her too much and it seemed like she’d never be able to
return it all. Two of them made up and got back together though.”
She paused to take a large gulp of water. “They used to come at intervals,
Fareeda and Salim and Bella and Ibrahim. His parents would go through
their usual pattern of laughing on some days and arguing on a few others.
Bella and Ibrahim would sit there in that corner table and talk in hushed
tones and he always, always made sure she was smiling. There was very little
he wouldn’t do for her. I can swear it.”
A moment of silence passed before she spoke again. “He’s a very lovely
soul, that Ibrahim. He just had it rough and like I always tell myself, he
didn’t settle with the right crowd. The first times the so called squad came,
they were nice, but that changed over time. They used to be very
disrespectful and so arrogant but Ibrahim…Even when he joined in their
madness, he’ll always come back on his own to ask if I was okay and if I
needed an extra hand, he didn’t mind. One time, that Bella scolded him like
a child but he didn’t mind. He got her smiling again and they left together.
An hour or so later, he was back and…”
Her eyes had glassed over and she let out a small laugh. “He’s the best soul,
I swear it, but he loves the wrong people and God knows his parents

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weren’t good but at least, the last time they came, they had received sense. I
haven’t seen Ibrahim since early last year but I know he’s been good. I
heard he’s married too and thanks be to God that it’s not that Bella. I thank
God for that every day.”
Ayra’s entire being hurt. She sniffled. “They’re currently falling apart. The
squad, I mean.”
Thandiwe’s smile was disturbingly wide in response to such news. She
threw up her hands “Enkosi Thixo (Thank God!).” She let her hands drop.
“He’s better off without them. He can focus on himself and on that
beautiful skill he had.”
She gestured towards the paintings. “He made those and he’s the one who
picked out this colour for the restaurant. I had it repainted this year but the
first layer of paint in this colour was painted by Ibrahim himself. When he
finished, he and Bella had dinner and that’s when that picture was taken.
That should be in 2019. If he got married last year, then they should have
broken up shortly after that photo.”
“They didn’t.” Ayra said before she could stop herself. The pain was
searing. “They didn’t break up, not until recently.”
Thandiwe’s brows furrowed. “I don’t understand. I thought you said…”
When it clicked in her head, her confusion gave way for horror. She shook
her head. “No…Please tell me it’s not what I think it is.”
Ayra choked over a sob while Ibtihaj nodded sombrely. “It is what you
think it is.”
Thandiwe shook her head, clearly in disbelief. “No…Ibrahim would never
do that. I can swear it, he would never.”
“He did.” Ibtihaj told her. She then held out her hand, pointing it towards
Ayra. “This is Ibrahim’s wife, Ayra Abdulaziz-Fahad.”
Thandiwe’s horror returned and with a pale face, she turned back to Ayra
who wiped away her tears with the back of her hands only for more tears to
fall. Thandiwe shook her head slowly, her eyes filling with tears.
“He would never do it on his own. I would bet on everything I own that
the plan to pull you into their mess didn’t come from him. I can bet on
everything I own that the others planned it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it
came from Bella herself or even that little devil named Anneth.” She began
to cry. “I knew you seemed familiar when you came in but I would never
have guessed. I am so sorry, Ayra. I’m so, so sorry.”

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Ayra broke for the umpteenth time that month and sobbed into her hands,
all of it too much for her to handle. A beautiful soul, every single person had
said. He’d just been with the wrong crowd. A beautiful soul, Ayra would not deny
it, but he was an adult and he would have been able to put his foot down
back then. He would have said no to their plan to pull her into it all but
he’d gone ahead with it all and it was too late. It was way too late.
She cried even harder and vaguely heard the legs of the chairs scraping
against the tiled floor before she was hugged by both her best friend and
Thandiwe. Ayra kept crying. They’d found out all except one thing; how
she’d come into the picture. How the squad had known about her, to the
extent that they could study her so well and mould themselves into what
she wanted so they could fool her perfectly and fool her family, his family,
and the Adeolas too.
As though the universe knew she needed the answer to that last question,
her phone pinged with a new message much later when their tears had
subsided. Ayra picked it up while Ibtihaj consoled Thandiwe who still had
some more tears to shed. The message took her to WhatsApp and once she
recognised the owner of the unsaved contact to be one of the exchange
students they – she and Ibtihaj – had over at the University of Atlantica
during their bachelor programme, Ayra hit the audio call button.
The call was accepted almost immediately and the familiar voice rang out.
“Ayra!”
Ayra’s heart – a bit of it – pieced itself together. She couldn’t help but
release a watery laugh. “Hannah. Oh my God, hi!”
“Hi! It’s been so long!”
“It has. I’m sorry I wasn’t in touch like I promised I would be as at the time
you had to return to Ethiopia.”
“Oh please, Ayra, that’s fine. I would have kept in touch too but life has
been so crazy. I said I would call since the time I heard you were engaged to
Ibrahim Fahad but it’s been crazy here and I literally just got my life back
on track. I saw the news about Ibrahim’s split from The Hexad and I said I
had to make this overdue phone call. After all, no matter what anyone says,
I’m convinced I played a role in you two getting together and I’m finally
going to admit it to you.”
That got the attentions of Ibtihaj and Thandiwe. Ayra’s heart broke again
and it went back to sinking. “Hannah, what are you talking about?”
Hannah laughed over the line. “God, this is so good.”

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“Hannah –”
“I’ll tell you! You know I left U of A in January 2019. That same year, I
think it was October, I went for this tech summit in Singapore with my
brothers and we got to meet with The Hexad. Your love for Ibrahim Fahad
was no secret to me, Ayra, and since he wasn’t with Bella the way some
people thought, I decided I was going to tell him that a friend of mine
actually really loved him and if he was interested in settling down, I had no
doubt you would make a lovely companion for him. He was genuinely
interested in who I was recommending so I told him your full name and
then I showed him one of your Instagram posts. Remember the one of you
and Ibty in traditional wear? I think it was for Nigeria’s Independence Day
or so. I showed him that one and let me tell you the surprising part! He’d
actually seen that same post on his explore page but he hadn’t paid any
attention to it until I showed him the same thing. He even pulled his phone
out and showed it to me. It was crazy!”
Hannah laughed again. “It wasn’t mere coincidence, I swear it. He promised
he’d reach out to you and of course I told him you were from Nohea and
that you were schooling at U of A. I gave him all your contact details that I
had because a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do once an opportunity
presents itself on a golden platter. I know he kept that promise because a
few months later I got the news that you two had gotten engaged and were
set to get married. Had life not taken a very crazy turn for me then, I would
have reached out and…”
Ayra had stopped listening. The phone slid from her hand and hit her lap
before it slipped down her chiffon dress and fell to the ground. Before she
could stop herself, she was thrown back to hers and Ibrahim’s engagement
the previous year and how they’d sat across each other in the second living
room of her parents’ home.
“Over the years it’s become hard for me to express my feelings,” He had said. “So you
can imagine how confused I was when I came across your post on my explore page on
Instagram and all I wanted to do was to get to know you better. Also, your user handle
was intriguing. It’s not every day you see a lady whose user handle is a rare flower. A
beautiful one at that.”
The prickling feeling was familiar and it went from every part of her
towards her throat where it bubbled until it got to her lips. Ayra brought
her hands up to her mouth at the last moment, muffling the shrill scream
that tore out and broke the heart of every person who heard it.
Ibrahim, time and time again, had lied but to an extent he’d been honest
and it killed her over and over. In Aomi, Ibrahim sat in the living room that

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had been cleared. Displayed on his phone which he held with both hands
was the screenshot of an Instagram post dated October 1st 2019; a photo
of Ayra smiling so beautifully at the camera while dressed in burgundy iro
and buba, her gele tied so well.
With a warm smile on his face, he quietly sent a word of thanks to the lady
named Hannah who he’d met at the summit in Singapore who’d told him
about Ayra and then shown him the same post he’d scrolled past mere
hours earlier.
At that time, he knew getting details about Ayra had been for his and the
squad’s plan of getting him married to someone his parents would approve
of. They’d gotten together for the wrong reasons, he knew that, but he had
her and he was now appreciating her and he was going to do anything and
go to any lengths to ensure he was worthy of her in any way, no matter
what. It was a promise he made.

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49
On Friday October 22nd, Ibrahim Fahad officially pulled away from The
Hexad. His position became vacant, his office got cleared, and his authority
over the affairs of the companies ceased to exist.
A few stakeholders pulled out with him, choosing to invest in other
companies until Ibrahim decided what he was going to do. It caused more
damage to The Hexad and the squad had their hands full.
That same day, Ayra returned to Atlantica alone. She’d convinced Ibtihaj
into going spending a day longer at Cape Town before going to Costa Casa
to enjoy the reservation they’d made in the lovely resort. Ayra didn’t want
to go there and Ibtihaj didn’t force it. At Raven Isle, she – Ayra – kept her
face covered with a disposable mask and ensured her head stayed lowered.
All through the ride to Aomi, she stared out of the window, her chest heavy
and her tear ducts dry.
Instead of heading to Downtown Aomi, Ayra headed to the place she’d
always called home. Muhsin was the one to open the door and although
Ayra felt the urge to cry when he teared up at the sight of her, the tears
didn’t come.
He pulled her into the house and into his arms, holding her tightly against
him and kissing her head repeatedly. Salama joined him there, both of them
holding Ayra between them. Her head resting against her father’s chest,
Ayra listened to his heart beating and found solace in it.
She was only going to stay in Plum Boulevard for a few days and then she’ll
head back to Ibrahim. Their finish line had now been clearly drawn and she
wasn’t going back on her decision. They were never going to work; not
when all had been said and done.
♣
The masjid now had more plants and with the plants’ flowers in bloom
despite the coldness of the weather, the masjid was more beautiful than
Ayra remembered.
Breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly, she adjusted the strap of her sling
bag and headed to the back where she knew she’d find Maya and, if they
were around, the other members of the sisters’ circle the masjid had.
Maya was the only being in sight and her face lit up when she saw who it
was. She put down the blanket she’d been crocheting and rose to her feet,
her smile wide enough to split her face in two. “Ayra!”

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Ayra laughed and it was sincere. The space between them disappeared and
they hugged each other. Ayra soaked in the warmth offered. “Assalam
Alaykum, Maya.”
“Waalaykum Salam!” Maya pulled back. “It’s so good to see you!”
“It’s so good to see you too. I see there are new additions outside. They’re
so beautiful.”
Maya blushed. “Well…Yunus had them planted. Being present when they
planted it helped with my mood swings. It’s been a lot since you left.”
Ayra blinked, unsure she was following. “Mood swings?”
Maya’s nod was small, her smile bashful. “In Shaa Allah, in the coming
months, we’ll be having an addition to our family.”
Ayra gasped softly when it made sense in her head. “Oh my God.” She
hugged Maya again. “Congratulations. May Allah keep you both in good
health and bring him or her safely.”
“Ameen, Ameen. Jazakillah Khair, Ayra.”
“Wa anti.”
Maya pulled back and led Ayra to the sofas. They sat facing each other and
made themselves comfortable before Maya asked “So how did your trip go?
How’s your best friend? Ibty, right?”
Ayra nodded, crossing one leg over the other. “Right. She’s fine,
Alhamdulillah. I actually came back to Aomi before she did but I had to
stay with my parents so I could rest a bit and tell them the steps I would
take from here on.”
Maya’s expression sombred. “You found out all you wanted to find out?”
“I did.” Ayra smiled sadly. “And things also happened here that are working
well for me now.”
“I’m guessing you two would still end up splitting ways.”
Ayra nodded yet again. “Yes, we will. That much is set in stone now.” She
then let a moment pass. “But I hope to do it in a way that’s not messy.
Also, I’d like to help him with some things first. Despite the way our story
went, Ibrahim’s making an effort to be better and although I’m going to
leave, I want to help in the little way I can.”
Maya’s chest tightened and she blamed her hormones for the tears that
surfaced. “And you, Ayra? Who will help you?”

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Ayra teared up then but not once did she stop smiling. “Oh, I have a lot of
people who are willing to help. I’m sure you’re on that list, Maya. You, your
husband, and every other member of this masjid community.”
Maya let out a watery laugh. “Of course we are…You should know that the
community expanded recently. There’s a new face that’s becoming
consistent.”
“Are you serious?”
Maya nodded, her chest squeezing again. “It’s Ibrahim, your husband.”
When she saw the other woman pale slightly, Maya continued. “He started
coming in last week. At first, he had things he wanted to donate and well,
Yunus was the one who attended to him alongside some of our brothers.
He’s been making an effort to show up for prayers since then. I thought
you should know. Like you said, he’s making an effort to be better, but for
your sake, I wish he’d done so earlier.”
Ayra loosely gripped the floral fabric of the dress she wore. “Oh…”
“But like you said the masjid community is going to be there to help you,
Ayra, no matter what.”
And it was funny to Ayra how she found some sort of painful contentment
that Ibrahim would have them to help him too. She then sniffled. “Thank
you, Maya. I’m really grateful.”
“Oh please, Ayra, it’s nothing. So, is there anything you need help with
now?”
Ayra nodded, a little slowly. “I have two things actually. I was wondering if
you had any idea of a house that’s currently up for sale. A small home with
at most three bedrooms and a terrace or something that would be nice for
someone to paint. I’d love it if the house was close to a masjid.”
Maya, despite her chest squeezing once more, thought about it for a long
moment. She was about to shake her head when she recalled a discussion
Yunus had a few days back with one of the brothers who had prayed with
them. Her face lit up and she nodded.
“I do! There are some newly completed houses on the south end here in
Downtown Aomi. They are all beautiful and cosy and there’s a masjid there.
It’s called Masjid An-Nur. According to what I heard being told to Yunus,
the houses have beautiful views of the beach. I’m sure that would be a
lovely thing to paint.”
Ayra swallowed and wiped away the tear that slid down her cheek. “Do all
the houses have their individual compounds?”

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Maya nodded. “According to what I know, yes. If you want, I can get the
number of the brother from Yunus. I think he said his name was Malik or
something.”
“I’d love that.”
“Alright then. I’ll get it for you before you leave…What’s the other thing?”
Ayra breathed in and out. “I’d like to start working. Not immediately
though. I was hoping you could recommend a place you can vouch for,
preferably here in Aomi since my family’s still here.” She let go of her dress
and laced her fingers together. “I studied communication so anything
related to that wouldn’t be an issue. I just do not want to deal with anything
social media related because when news of me separating from Ibrahim
comes out, it’ll be the talk for a while and the last thing I want is to deal
with that. I wouldn’t want to deal with much about the squad too.”
She paused to breathe. “I wouldn’t mind being an assistant or something in
that category. I just need something to keep me busy once I’m able to head
out of my house without being scared of bursting into tears at the littlest
inconvenience. I also want a place where I can find peace and be able to
practice Islam without any snide remarks or anything. Islamophobia, no
matter how little it’ll be, won’t be good for me. An organisation that’s
involved in charity would be nice too.”
Maya’s smile was pretty. She pushed herself off the sofa and rose to her full
height. “You’re in luck. There’s a perfect opening for you. Give me a
minute.”
Ayra could only nod. Maya left the room and returned with a brochure
which she handed to Ayra before returning to her seat. “This is from
Ayneese. It’s a fashion company that provides extremely modest clothing
for Muslims and non-Muslims alike, especially those on a budget. They
began in Bedfordshire in 2018 and then they expanded around Europe.
However, they’re moving down here to Aomi because the owners – who I
heard are cousins – are from Atlantica and they want to be back home.”
Ayra flipped through the pages, taking in the beautiful thobes, jilbabs,
hijabs, dresses, shirts, two pieces for males and females, and accessories.
The Aomi shop, which to be the new headquarters of the brand, was to be
in between Plum Boulevard and Monwict and it was set to be opened in the
first half of the coming year.
“I think you should go for the confidential secretary post to the president.
Since they’re cousins, they’re two of them so you can go for any one. I
personally don’t know the owners because of how private they are but the

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masjid community is familiar with the brand. Most of our outfits are from
them and they’ve contributed immensely to charity drives around the
country. So, based on all those, I can vouch for them. I can also vouch for
them based on their charity managers and those that have related with
them. Ayneese’s reviews are really good too so…And the best part is that
they’re not opening soon so you’ll have all the time you need to prepare
yourself and heal as much as you can. I think this is a lovely opportunity,
Ayra, and you should take it.”
The second to the last page had Ayra freezing. Displayed was a milk
coloured thobe, one that she’d definitely seen at the East Mainlands Airport
on none other than Ayman Hakeem Bello, Adil’s cousin. It was then she
realised why it’d seemed familiar on him that day. She’d stumbled across
Ayneese’s Instagram page while searching for jilbabs during the period
she’d found out about the lie that had been her life with Ibrahim.
She blinked and snapped out of her trance. She closed the brochure and
raised her head. “Can I keep this with me?”
“Of course! You should think about it but I hope you make up your mind
soon. Applications end mid-November and interviews would be conducted
before the year runs out In Shaa Allah.”
“In Shaa Allah. Thank you, Maya.”
“Oh come on, Ayra. You’re always welcome. I promise.”
♣
Ayra pulled her box along and stepped into The Oasis, feeling bittersweet
as she recalled how excited she and Ibtihaj had been the first time they
visited to tour the apartment Ibrahim had gotten; an apartment Ayra had
been so thrilled to call home.
Coming back to the residential building after the trip she’d had showed
Ayra just how much The Oasis had lost its shine in her eyes. They could
have done better with picking out a home but she had been in too deep in
love with Ibrahim to realise it.
The receptionists were familiar faces and after welcoming her back, they let
her know Ibrahim was out. Ayra should not have been so relieved but she
was. Thanking them, she walked to the elevator and headed up.
The tenth floor was quiet and the sound of her inputting the passcode was
louder in her ears. Drawing in a deep breath, she pushed the door open and
stepped into the apartment. The lights came on as the door closed and the

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first thing she took note of was how the apartment scented like a garden of
flowers in full bloom.
She let go of her box handle and took smaller steps in, noticing the diffuser
sticks that sat in a square shaped glass jar of oil on the foyer’s floating shelf.
The living room seemed warmer and it took her a long moment to realise
the cushions had been switched with those in warm tones. The sofas and
chairs were the same and so were the coffee tables and the chandelier. The
multi canvas painting she’d left with space between both canvasses had
been moved so both canvasses sat side by side with no gap between.
She smiled sadly. “I guess you finally got rid of that itch, Ibrahim.”
The kitchen was spotlessly clean and the fridge was stocked with food
arranged in storage dishes. There were fruits in the basket on the dining
table too. She ran her fingers along the edge of the waterfall island,
reminiscing on every time she’d walked into the space, excited to whip up
something for him or to watch him whip up something for the both of
them.
Her heart sinking and her chest heavy, she exited the kitchen and walked
back to the foyer to grab her box before she made her way up. The family
lounge had her freezing in her tracks. The paintings she had left – all of
which he’d done and signed as Serkan Fahad – were gone. In its place was a
framed portrait from their wedding; both of them captured so beautifully in
black and white staring at each other with soft and radiant smiles.
The sight of it and the fact that it’d taken them a near year to have a
wedding picture of theirs in the apartment broke Ayra painfully and she had
to swallow back a sob. She walked to the wall that held the portrait and
stared at the picture as though it was a scene pulled out of a dream. It’d
only been a near year since they’d been married but as she stared at the
portrait and how happy she was in it, Ayra felt as though it’d been ages and
that she’d grown older than she even knew.
When she finally brought herself to look away from the painting, she
moved in the direction of his room. It was the same as she’d left it but
some things were gone such as the painting of Bella. In its place was a
painting of her and she knew with painful certainty that it was the same
painting he’d talked about. It was perfect; the strokes and colours artistically
done. She walked up to it and just like she’d expected, his signature was on
the bottom left corner; Ibrahim Fahad, and not Serkan.
Ayra broke a little more.

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His walk-in was a little emptier than she remembered and a bunch of papers
clipped together on the top of the vanity caught her attention. It was
information about newly completed houses and as she went through them,
she realised they were the same houses Maya had spoken about; the ones at
the south end of Downtown Aomi with views of the beach that gave every
other property in town a run for their money. His scribbles felt like tiny
knives and they hurt so much as she read them.
Maybe Ayra would like this one????? This one definitely seems like a storybook home
she’ll kill to have. I’ll ask her.
This one seems too big. I’ll have to check back with her.
This! This is perfect!
The last comment had been scribbled next to the picture of a two storey
house with three bedrooms, four baths, a back patio that had a stunning
view of the beach, and an immaculate front porch. Like he said, it was
perfect and it killed her that they didn’t start their lives there. It killed her
more that she even entertained such thought.
She put the papers back down when her vision blurred and then noticed
that his perfume drawer was half open. She wiped away her tears and pulled
it open, unable to recognise the brands she saw instead of his usual Tom
Ford Oud which she’d known as his signature scent.
The sob that broke free wrecked her frame and Ayra ended up crying there.
A while passed before the familiar tell-tale sound of the passcode being
inputted reached her ears. She hurriedly wiped away her tears and breathed
in and out, wondering if she’d be able to rush to the bathroom and splash
water on her face before he came up to meet her.
Without dwelling on it, she made a beeline for the bathroom and did just
that while outside the dark themed space, he called her name. “Ayra?”
The water was cold against her skin but she welcomed it whole heartedly.
By the time he got to the doorway of the bathroom, she’d slipped on a part
of her mask. Smiling, she turned around. “Hi.”
Ibrahim felt his chest expand like a balloon being pumped with air. He’d
planned to come home and call her to ask just when she was returning to
Aomi but there she was, right in his bathroom. Her eyes made his brows
furrow and he took a small step in. “Ayra, were you crying?”
She nodded, still smiling. “I was.” She managed a nonchalant eye roll. “I go
away for a few weeks and you turn the house around. The portrait in the

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family lounge? Stunning.” Her heart was bleeding. “And that painting of me
in the room! God, Ibrahim. You know how to make a woman cry.”
Relief hit him square in the chest and he laughed. He closed the space
between them and hugged her, holding her tightly against him and burying
his face in the crook of her neck. She felt and scented familiar and he felt
extremely complete and safe. He felt at home.
“God, I missed you.” It was his honest truth. “I don’t even think I know
just how much I did.”
Ayra blinked back a fresh wave of tears and hugged him back. “Missed you
too, Ibrahim.” A lie. “I hope you’re okay, especially with everything that
happened with the squad.”
He pulled back, his smile a near ghost on his face. His hand came up to
cradle her cheek, his thumb moving in a soft caress. “I’ll be fine. So far, so
good. You’re home now with me and that’s the only thing I want to think
about. I can think and worry about everything later.”
She choked out a watery laugh. “You’re sounding so cheesy.”
His smile widened. “You can’t blame me, can you?”
She shook her head. “No.” A part of her wanted to; wanted to blame him
for everything and anything. “I can’t.”
They stood there, an arm of his around her waist while his other hand
stayed on her cheek while her arms stayed wrapped loosely around his
middle. The air shifted and like a punch in the gut, Ayra saw her engaged
self in him. She saw the way he looked at her and how badly he wanted to
say the same words Ibtihaj had warned her against saying back then until he
had proved himself worthy of them.
Ibrahim sincerely stared at her the way she’d always wanted and instead of
the happiness she’d always experienced when she had no idea his looks
were not sincere, Ayra felt herself crumbling to dust. He said nothing, his
thumb still caressing her cheek, but Ayra heard him loud and clear.
Ibrahim’s lips moved and he whispered. “There’s so much I want to tell
you, Ayra. There’s so much I want to say.”
The words that formed her reply slipped past her lips before she could stop
them, killing what was left of her when she saw how much anguish they put
him in.
“I know, Ibrahim…” She whispered too. “What else is there to feel?”

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50
When Ibrahim told her he’d been thinking of them getting a house they
wouldn’t have to share with other people by having their own compound,
Ayra backed up the idea. When he brought the same papers she’d seen in
his walk-in, she stepped into her acting shoes once again and delivered the
perfect gasp when she saw the house he’d called perfect; the house she
knew was perfect too.
“How soon can we get it?” She asked, looking up at him with eyes that she
prayed shone brightly. “And how soon can we move in?”
Ibrahim, sincerely happy that she’d bought the idea, smiled down at her.
“You’re that excited about it?”
She nodded. “Yes! Look at the house, Ibrahim. We have to get it before
someone else does and I don’t care what anyone says but we are going to
move in as soon as we can. We’re also picking everything it’ll contain from
scratch.”
He laughed and pulled her close, kissing her hair. “We’ll go tomorrow In
Shaa Allah and close the deal. Is that fine?”
“Perfect!”
He laughed and kissed her hair yet again before his hand found hers and he
squeezed gently before leading the way in the direction of her room. “Now,
come and tell me how your trip went. And don’t leave any detail out.”
She laughed, nodding. “I wouldn’t dare.”
She told him half-truths and half-lies; that she and Ibtihaj had explored
places and cities in England with their favourite being London before they
briefly passed through the Netherlands and proceeded to Turkey. She told
him about the coffee flavours she loved and the ones she hated; about the
dishes she would love to try again and those she despised; about the hotel
memories she would hold dear and how the flight attendants were always
nice; and then about the resort in Costa Casa that she never visited.
Ibrahim listened to her every word, his expression nothing short of
beautiful. He stared at her as though he had enough time to memorise every
inch of her face and also as though he only had that one moment left to
live. It nearly made Ayra cry.
Along the line, after he told her she’d had a lot of fun, he closed the space
between them and kissed her. Ayra let him, his new scent of wood and
spice painfully intoxicating. He kissed her like his life depended on it and
she kissed him back, aware of every cracking sound coming from within

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her. He pulled her closer and her fingers weaved through his curls; a pattern
she memorised one more time. Her zipper got pulled down and she helped
him with his shirt, her hands a little shaky while his stayed steady. Ayra told
herself not to cry, especially when he smiled at her, tracing her lip with his
thumb, before saying she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Then he kissed her again, moving things further one step at a time.
In his every movement and every kiss, Ayra heard clearly all that he was
saying; that he missed her; that he loved her. It broke her over and over. He
was gentle and he was kind and she took it all, giving back what she had left
to offer; broken pieces that may never mend; a heart that was beyond
battered.
They found their releases together and his kiss swallowed her small gasp.
Ibrahim held her close until they caught their breaths and then they lay on
their sides, faces mere inches apart.
“You okay?” He asked softly.
She nodded. “I am.” Another half-lie and half-truth. She then put her hand
underneath her head and smiled at him. “What do you plan to do with your
shares and with the applications you both from them?”
He raised a brow. “We’re having business talks now?”
She let out a small laugh. “Answer me, Ibrahim.”
He grinned. “Okay.” He mirrored her position, his hand going under his
head. His grin then shrunk to a small smile. “My shares have been
liquidified so the money’s sitting pretty in my bank accounts and God, the
sum is so huge. I’m being told to invest in a company or establish my own
solo company but those ideas aren’t appealing to me. I don’t know what I
want to do yet and I don’t want to be in a rush. I want to take it one day at
a time, with you.”
Ayra focused on asking the next question, her voice a near whisper. “And
the applications?”
“For now they’re running well with their latest updates. If I need to draw
up a team anytime soon, it’ll be solely for the applications so they don’t go
out of the market. They’re too important to die a sad death and I can’t let
that happen.”
A silent moment passed before she reached out with her other hand.
Ibrahim’s small smile vanished when she pushed his curls back, away from
his forehead. So many emotions swirled in her eyes and he wanted to take

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his time to unravel them all. His heart raced beautifully and a small swarm
of butterflies fluttered in his stomach.
“You should establish a small company, Ibrahim.” She told him softly. “It
would be nowhere near even half of The Hexad, just big enough to keep
the applications running and develop some more. Big enough to also have a
mentorship programme because even if you can’t see it now, I have no
doubt that you’re going to be a fantastic mentor to so many young people
who look up to you and would die for such a chance to learn from you.”
Ibrahim could only stare at her, listening to her every word which built
beautiful mental images in his head. Her hand didn’t leave his hair and it
was so, so soothing.
“You should also think of partnering with a number of galleries or opening
one, no matter how small it may be.” Ayra continued, taking in how
beautiful he was as he stared at her as though she was plucking out the
moon from its spot in space just so she could give it to him. “You paint so
beautifully, Ibrahim, and the world deserves to see those artworks which
you’ll sign as Ibrahim Fahad or even with a pseudo name just in case you
don’t want people to know you paint. I even think the pseudo name is
better.” She smiled, using every ounce of energy she had. “A dash of
mystery is always good.”
He smiled then. “You should go into marketing, Ayra. You’ll do well
convincing so many people.”
Her smile stretched while she bled within. “Does that mean I’ve convinced
you?”
“Oh you definitely have. You’ve overthrown everyone else’s advice and I
definitely wouldn’t mind coming to you when I need advice. You’re so
good at it.”
Ayra struggled to keep her smile on her face but she did try with every part
of her. Ibrahim’s other hand moved and he patted her cheek, tempted to
poke her dimple. “I’ll think about it although there’s already a high chance
I’ll do everything you’ve just recommended.” His smile widened. “You’ll be
there beside me every step of the way, yeah?”
She nodded once. “I will.” I won’t, she said in her head, not like you think right
now. “You don’t even have to ask.”
“Perfect!” He moved closer and pecked her lips. “Thank you, Ayra.”
The last piece of her crumbled. “You’re welcome.”
♣

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If the house had been stunning on paper, it was a dream brought to life in
reality. The compound was nothing big but it was perfect and Ayra focused
on breathing in and out just so she did not burst into tears when a
treacherous part of her imagined how it would have been lovely to have
hers and Ibrahim’s son or daughter run around the space, squealing at the
top of their lungs.
The front porch was breath-taking; dark wood floors, two pillars which
artificial vines were wrapped around, and beautiful lighting. Ayra pictured
vases with flourishing plants on both sides of the door and a foot mat that
welcomed guests right in front of it. The image made her heart hurt.
The interior of the house was even better than its exterior. The spaces were
nowhere as big as what they had at The Oasis but every corner screamed
home a million times more than The Oasis ever would and also there
wasn’t anyone else picking out things for them the way Bella had done. It
was just her and Ibrahim; no one else.
The house had a coastal neutral pallet – taupe, ivory, and beige – with pops
of beachy blues. The wooden floors shone and they were felt so nice
beneath Ayra’s feet when she removed her shoes. The living had double
height ceilings and space for a nook as the realtor explained. The staircase
leading up was mounted on one side of the space while the other side
flowed into the dining space that then flowed into the kitchen which had
white cabinets, a patterned blue backsplash, and a marble topped island
with warm wooden sides.
Each bedroom – all three of them – was nothing short of warm and
inviting and the patio begged to be occupied. The views, as promised, from
every part of the house were to die for and everything came together so
well in Ayra’s head. Ibrahim was going to thrive there, there was no doubt
about it, and – as painful as the reminder was – she was not going to be
with him. She was never going to be with him.
He joined her on the patio, his hands in his pockets and the cool breeze
from the sea ruffling his hair. His smile was soft. “Perfect?”
She nodded, managing to smile back. “Perfect. We’re making a down
payment, Ibrahim.”
“Oh that much is already set in stone. There’s someone else who has eyes
on the property and there’s no way I’m going to let them get it.”
She choked out a laugh, her chest as tight as it’d been since she returned to
the apartment they were both going to leave. “Exactly. Let’s ask if they

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offer interior services. If they do, then I hope they’re ready to have this
furnished before this new week runs out.”
Ibrahim’s eyes widened. “Ayra!”
“I’m serious, Engineer Fahad.” She walked past him, heading back into the
house where the realtor stood waiting for them. “They have to make it
happen. We are moving here during the week and that’s it.”
She heard him follow her. “Yes ma’am.”
Luckily for them, the company that owned the properties ran an interior
service and each house already had a curated template just in case the new
owners wanted such. The curated template for that particular house had
Ayra blinking back tears as it was everything she would kill for in a dream
home; from the sofa set to the patio furniture, it was perfect, and she told
the realtor they’d take it even before Ibrahim could say he loved it too.
When Ayra asked if they could get the house furnished in a week or even
less than, the realtor smiled and nodded. “If you can get the money paid
this very hour, you’ll get a fully furnished home in three to four days. All
the pieces are available and lucky for you, the interior designer – Stephanie
Kraus – is still in town.”
Ayra turned to Ibrahim and no one had to tell him to say to the realtor
“We’ll take it.”
It took them two hours to sign the papers that gave ownership of the house
and meet with the interior designer, Stephanie, who ran over the designs
with them. Apart from a few additions Ayra had, they were good to go and
Stephanie promised her team would not disappoint.
When the meeting with her ended and they returned to the car, Ibrahim
faced his wife. “You’re that excited to move in?”
“You have no idea, Ibrahim. You can’t have a house like that and not
decide to move in. It’s going to be so lovely here. You’ll have so many
things to paint and then there’s a masjid nearby. It’s the best place.”
He folded his arms on the steering wheel and rested his head on them,
staring at her as lovingly as he now always did. “And you? What would you
do?”
Ayra rolled her eyes, as though he’d asked the most useless question the
world had ever seen. “Do you think it’s easy to have a supporter like me?”
That brought a laugh out of him. “You’re usually not the cocky type,
Leilani.”

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Her façade trembled on a shaky foundation. She mimicked a hair flip,
hiding how badly damaged she was. “Ibty’s great influence.”
His amusement was as clear as day. “I can see that.” A minute passed with
him watching her before he asked “While they work on giving us a fully
furnished house in four days, what should we do?”
“We’ll stay glued to each other.” She replied without missing a beat. “We’ll
work on clearing out our current house and then on putting the apartment
back on the market alongside all the furniture it contains because we won’t
need them anymore. This new house is going to be a fresh start and the
only things we need to move are our clothes and our other necessities.
Everything else can be sold.”
Ibrahim would never tell her that in that moment he was grateful for the
fresh start she mentioned. With all that had happened and all he knew she
didn’t know about, a fresh start was all they needed and he was going to
make sure nothing thwarted it especially with how bright and beautiful the
future with her seemed with no more lies between them.
“And when we’re not doing those,” Ayra continued. “I want us to do
everything you want. Dates, movies, drives, walks to and fro the masjid,
shopping…All of it!”
His chest warmed ever so lovingly. “Why is it just all I want? What about
you?”
“Let’s do all you want, Ibrahim, and then we’ll do everything I want. When
we get that point, you better not say no to whatever I ask for.”
“As long as it isn’t going to lead to any injuries or anything overly crazy,
then I won’t.”
Ayra told herself not to cry. “Promise?”
He did not even hesitate. “I promise.”
“Thank you!”
He straightened and brought the engine to life, his chest warming further
and the butterflies in his belly taking flight. “Come on, sweetheart, it’s
nothing. Prepare to get sick of me this week because we’re doing everything
like a couple that’s just starting to date.”
In her head, Ayra began the countdown. “Perfect! I can’t wait.”
He put the gear in drive, his smile a knife that stabbed her heart. “Me too,
sweetheart. Me too.”
♣

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While the world kept up with The Hexad and how things at the company
were on rocky ground with fluctuating values, Ayra and Ibrahim focused on
clearing out their apartment at The Oasis so they could be fully ready to
move into their new home.
They packed up the things they needed and put aside the things they no
longer wanted to keep, choosing to have them donated rather than
throwing them out. Clothes were folded, books were arranged in boxes, and
shoes were put into their allocated storage spaces. The paintings and their
wedding portraits were wrapped up protectively and so were certain
ceramics Ayra wanted in the new home.
When they weren’t clearing out the space, just as she’d asked, they did every
activity he came up with. They walked to and fro the masjid for most
prayers, he took her on the most random drives and held her hand in his
between the seats throughout, he took her up to The Oasis’s pool to swim
one night, and instead of taking her to restaurants for dates, he brought the
dates home and most times, they ended up cuddling and talking about the
most random things while a movie they’d ditched half way played in the
background.
For Ibrahim, those moments were worth more than everything the world
had to offer and he appreciated them, knowing he’d always taken them for
granted for more than half of their marriage; something he’d promised he’d
never do again. Without her knowing, especially when she was asleep, he
worked on the ideas she’d given him; a small company with a mentorship
programme for mainly youths but inclusive to other age grades and then
collaborations with galleries to showcase the paintings he couldn’t wait to
get started on. He also considered the possibility of opening a foundation.
He just didn’t know what exactly he wanted the foundation to be for yet.
The week passed perfectly and once they checked on the house when it was
fully furnished, Ibrahim got flooded with so many images he wanted to turn
into memories with Ayra and with the family they’d have; something he
wanted to talk about with her when their wedding anniversary came along.
They – he and Ayra – decided they’d start moving on Saturday morning and
that they’d tell their parents on Sunday. However, the last thing Ibrahim
had expected was getting a phone call that his attention was needed at The
Hexad for the final signings which officially cut him loose from the
company and cut the other members of the squad he’d loved being a part
of away from the two applications he’d ended up buying from them.
It ruined the feeling of happiness the week had brought and Ibrahim was
tempted to ask a representative go in his stead but Ayra wasn’t having it.

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She pushed herself to the tip of her toes and pecked his lips softly. “Go and
get it over with. I’m just going to get started with the handymen. I’ll move
what I can until you return.”
“I really don’t want to go…Besides, today is a weekend so –”
“Ibrahim.” She held his face in her hands and smiled prettily. “This is the
final rope you need to cut. So, go there and sign what you need to and then
come home. I don’t mean this place. I mean our new home. I’ll be waiting
for you, like I’ve always done. Okay?”
He smiled and nodded, feeling better. “Okay. I’ll try to not stay out too
long.”
“Take your time, Ibrahim.”
He raised a brow. “That’s sus.”
“You better stop saying that.”
He decided to rile her up further. “That’s suspish.”
“Ibrahim!”
He laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist just so she wouldn’t be
able to leave him standing there. “I’m sorry. You telling me to take my time
is making me feel as though you have something planned.”
She smiled sheepishly, her cheeks staining with colour while her dimples
shone in their deep glory. “I will neither confirm nor deny so take your
time.”
Warmth that was always associated with her bloomed in his chest. “Ayra –”
“You better start heading out, mister, before I change my mind on what I
have planned.”
She didn’t need to tell him twice. He stole a long, soft kiss before he left
and Ayra only allowed lowered herself to the floor when the front door of
the apartment shut behind him, the soft click of the lock in place louder
than it should normally be. She brought her knees to her chest and rocked
back and forth, letting all the tears fall out as she needed her glands dry so
she could get through all she had planned for the day.
She made no sound and the tears flowed like a river while her mind
replayed the seven years she’d spent loving him and the year they’d spent
with each other; from the moment she admired him from behind the
curtain in her parents’ living room down to that very moment when she
knew he was convinced sincerely that they were both happier than they’d
ever been.

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Ayra cried for herself and for him; for the love she’d had for years, for her
blind trust, for the love she let grow as she wanted to give it all to him, for
the pain that had come with pulling apart the lies they’d tangled her in, for
the way he’d been forced to see that he wasn’t valued by the people he held
dear, for the life he’d lived and the choices he’d made, and for the man he
was becoming. A lovely soul she would have been so happy with had things
been different. A lovely soul she was going to hurt just as he’d hurt her too.
Ayra cried until her shoulders shook and there were no more tears to flow
down her cheeks. She stayed on the ground, rocking herself back and forth
until little by little, every part of her numbed to an extent, muting
everything she’d felt. The memories in her head stopped playing and her
rocking came to a slow stop.
She stayed in that position for a minute longer before she got off the
ground, dusted her sweatpants, and proceeded to the guest bathroom. She
ensured the water running from the tap was cold before she washed her
face and got her act together. Her reflection felt as though she was staring
at a stranger and she forced herself to not dwell on it. She left the bathroom
and shut the door, knowing she was never going to open it again.
With half an hour left to spare before the handymen were to arrive, she
went to the kitchen and pulled out a chair by the dining table on which her
laptop sat. She brought the device to life, connected it to the Wi-Fi, and
opened the tab she’d closed the previous night. A moment later, Ayneese’s
application page stared back at her.
She took in a breath and blew it out. She repeated the process, said
Bismillah, and got started on the application, clicking “Confidential
Secretary to Ayneese’s President” as her desired position.
At The Hexad, Ibrahim parked in what had always been his designated
parking lot and killed the engine. Breathing in and out, he prayed for
strength before he opened the car door and stepped out, hoping that
everything went fine.

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51
On the outside, The Hexad looked the same; an elegant glass structure with
enough floors that housed every department and unit that kept the
company running for years. The interior though, Ibrahim noticed, was now
a near shadow of its usual self.
The company was bustling, that was not different, but rather than people
moving around with excitement, they moved around hurriedly, as though
they had a timeframe to beat just so they could survive the next hour.
Ibrahim knew that pulling out his shares and buying out two of the most
popular applications had done a lot to the company’s stability but it was one
thing to hear about what was happening and another to see it play out.
However, despite the stab of guilt he felt, he knew that if he had to go back
in time, he’d still pull out his shares and buy out the other members of the
squad. He was happier without them anyway.
He crossed the lobby with quick, graceful strides and smiled politely – but
tightly – at those who said hi and said it was nice to see him. The elevator
ride up was long and he flexed his fingers within the pockets of his coat.
The executive floor which was usually quiet was a flurry of activities and
Ibrahim focused on breathing to attempt to ease out the tightening of his
chest as he made his way to Bella’s office where he’d been told they’d be
waiting for him.
He realised then that he had no idea whether or not Bella still stayed at The
Oasis. He had not seen her around, not like he was looking, and he had not
bothered to ask. After all, the apartment was now solely in her name and
like he’d told her the day he cleared out his things, she could do with it
what she saw fit.
He knocked once and pushed the door open before stepping in. All eyes
snapped to him and he stayed calm as he pushed the door shut before
turning to properly take in every person in the room. His former friends
and partners looked as though they’d aged since the last time he saw them.
They all had dark circles and the men had day old stubbles they were yet to
shave. All of them had messy hairs and stress was etched quite clearly on
their faces.
Apart from the five of them, their legal representatives – one from his side
and one from theirs – were present, both men looking smart in well-tailored
suits. Ibrahim put one leg in front of other and walked to the table they
were all seated around. He pulled out the empty by his legal representative
and sat. A moment barely passed before Anneth scoffed, her tone bitter
when she spoke.

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“You must be having the time of your life, Ibrahim. You’re literally glowing.”
Ibrahim crossed his legs at the ankles, nodding slowly. “Compared to the
five of you, I can say I am. I don’t have to worry about much and I’m
taking one day at a time so…”
Jalal’s tone was like ice. “Ibrahim Fahad.”
Ibrahim smiled with ease. “I would say it’s good to see you too, Jalal, but
I’d be lying so let’s save ourselves the stress.” He turned to the legal
representatives. “Let’s get started, please. Today’s a really busy and
important day for me and I’d like to be done with this as soon as possible.”
Tobi’s laugh was dry. “You’re a selfish bastard.”
Ibrahim ignored him and it made Tobi angrier. He slammed a fist on the
table. “You’re the reason we’re this wound up, you asshole, and you think
you have the right to just waltz in here and demand that we wrap up things
because you have a busy and important day? Do we look like we don’t also
have things we should be doing, Ibrahim?”
Ibrahim took the papers his legal representative handed and then reached
into his pocket to pull out a pen. He spared Tobi a glance. “I’m not the
reason anyone’s wound up, Tobi.” He turned back to the papers and
glanced through the first page, ensuring everything was stated clearly. He
wasn’t stupid enough to blindly trust them again. “Besides, this would have
happened if you’d been able to push me out. I just made things a bit faster
for you all and removed myself from the mess. You can’t blame me for
anything.”
Nathaniel moved to rise to his feet. “Why you little –”
Their legal adviser cut in then. “Gentlemen and ladies, please. You
promised to be civil so we could get this over with once and for all.”
Anneth told him to go kill himself while Nathaniel sat back down, his jaw
set with how hardly his teeth ground against each other. Tobi and Jalal had
looks that could kill while Bella sat quietly, not once looking away from
Ibrahim. She watched him flip the page over before she said “Ayra must be
back home.”
Ibrahim stopped, halfway done with the page’s contents. Telling himself it
was better to keep his mouth shut, Ibrahim continued reading. On her laps,
Bella’s hands became loose fists. “Ibrahim, I’m talking to you.”
“I have nothing to say to you. Whether Ayra’s back home or not is none of
your business.”

LATIFAH EFUA A.
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Nathaniel scoffed and stood. “You really think you’re on to something,
huh? You’re ditching us for that lowlife, even after everything we’ve done
for you. After everything we’ve done with you. And you still think you get
to be selfish. You’re the most ungrateful person I’ve ever met and you
should know that I’m going to spend as much time as I can hoping things
turn out badly for you.”
Ibrahim flipped to the next page. “Worry about keeping the company afloat
first. You can wish whatever you want for me after that.”
Anneth was starting to see red. Her nails dug into her palms as she said
“Go ahead and act all high and mighty, Ibrahim. You have no idea that this
is just a phase. We have each other to rely on and you have no one except
your God forsaken family and that so called wife who’ll never be able to
offer you anything more than her naivety, her so called love, and her
despicable skinny body. The tides are going to change and –”
The cap of Ibrahim’s pen snapped under the force of him pressing against
it and silence immediately descended. The legal representatives rubbed their
temples, holding back exhausted sighs. Ibrahim raised his head, eyes ablaze
with undiluted fury.
“I can listen to whatever you want to say about me, Anneth, and I can allow
you pick at me for as long as you want just because you only feel better by
stooping lower and lower.”
A vein ticked in Nathaniel’s jaw. “How dare –”
Ibrahim ignored him. “But what I’m no longer going to tolerate is one bad
word about Ayra. In the time I didn’t know better, I let you all run your
mouths and I even joined you but that time has passed now and I respect
her, more than I’m ever going to respect you five. So, from this very
moment, watch how you speak about my wife because I won’t hesitate to
press charges for defamation and I will make a mountain out of what you
consider a mow hill. Just one more word, Anneth. I dare you.”
The silence was heavy and it thickened with each second that passed.
Ibrahim waited for Anneth to say something. She never did but her eyes
spoke volumes and he ignored every silent message she was passing across.
He turned back to the papers, half-heartedly ensuring everything was in
place before signing on the very last page; cutting every last rope that tied
them together.
There was no sadness, no guilt, and no major happiness. There was only a
bit of relief and a little pain that over a decade’s worth of knowing each
other was going down the drain. He stared at his signature on the page

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before he closed the papers and handed it back to the legal representative.
He used the damaged cap to cover the pen tip and then Ibrahim pushed his
chair back, rising to his feet.
He put the pen back in his pocket and then turned to the people he would
no longer sit with, laugh with, travel with, eat with, make memories with,
and hold dear to his heart. He opened his mouth to say one last goodbye
but decided against it. Clamping his mouth shut, he smiled tightly, nodded
at the legal representatives and then turned to leave.
He was at the elevator when familiar hurried footsteps reached his ears. A
moment later, a slender hand closed against his wrist, forced him to stop
and turn around. He came face to face with his former lover and the tears
in her eyes did not move him in any way. Once upon a time he would have
done everything possible to ensure she stopped crying but in that moment,
he felt nothing.
“Ibrahim.” Her voice was soft and he detected a hint of a plea. “Please
don’t do this.”
He stared at her for a moment that stretched before he pulled his wrist free.
“Don’t do what exactly, Isabella?”
“You know you’re not going to be happy with her. You’re not going to be
happy without us.”
He nearly scoffed at the absurdity. “And I’m going to be happy with you? Is
that how much you’ve deluded yourself?”
“Ibrahim –”
“I loved you, Bella. Even though I’ve seen that at some point I was more
infatuated with you than anything else, I was ready to put everything on the
line for you. If you asked me to jump, I never asked you why. I always
asked you how high you wanted me to go and even when I didn’t feel
comfortable, I pushed myself to do stuff until I got desensitized and went
along with the flow. I did everything I could for you and how did you pay
me back? By being controlling, by giving me ultimatums, and by being with
Jalal.”
“You cheated too! You cheated on me with Ayra.”
He smiled bitterly. “You knew for a fact I wasn’t going to be celibate in my
marriage, Bella, so is that really cheating?”
She couldn’t give him a reply and he did not miss the way her hands flexed,
as though she was stopping herself from fisting them. He put his hands in

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his pockets, asking “Why did you follow me, Bella? I hope it’s not because
you wanted to tell me that I’m better off with you and with the squad.”
“Ibrahim –”
“I don’t know what else you need me to say or do to make it clear
but…We’re done. You and I don’t have a relationship anymore. I have
nothing to do with the squad anymore. I’ve cleared out my stuff and apart
from the mansion I have in Cape Town, I’ve removed myself from
everything else. There’s nothing that binds me to you or the others anymore
so you should accept that now. We’re never going back to what we used to
be.”
A tear slid down her cheek. “Ibrahim, don’t do –”
“Does Jalal know? That you’re having quite a hard time letting me go even
after all the ultimatums?”
Her face contoured in pain. “Serkan –”
He laughed, more in disbelief than anything else. “You can’t be in love with
me now, Bella. It’s not going to work and it’s definitely not going to bring
me back. We’ve all laid our beds and now it’s time we lie on them. You
picked Jalal so you should stay with him. After all, I was just the man who
humoured you until you warmed up to me. That’s all I am always going to
be…Goodbye, Isabella.”
He turned around and pressed the elevator call button. It was four floors
down and as the carriage came up, Bella venomously spoke from behind
him. “You and Ayra aren’t going to last…You may survive this year but
you’re always going to be the liar, Ibrahim. You’re always going to be the
man who used her to hide the fact that he was dating and fucking his best
friend when she thought he was nothing but faithful to her. You’re always
going to be a tainted human to her, Ibrahim.” Her voice frosted. “Just like
your father.”
The elevator arrived on the floor while Ibrahim’s chest twisted painfully.
The carriage doors opened and he blew out a shaky breath before stepping
in. He turned around, towards her, and held the doors open. He offered her
a painful smile.
“You’re right. I’m always going to be the liar and I’m always going to be the
man who did everything you’ve listed. And you’re right, I am like my father,
but you of all people should know that like my father, I’m going to do
everything possible to make up for the months I erred. I’m going to make
sure that she knows that every moment from now on, I’m always going to
choose her before anyone else.”

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He swallowed the growing lump in his chest as his chest tore open,
bleeding. “And if she leaves for any reason, at least I’ll be content that at
some point I learned to love her. And you should know, Bella, that loving
you can never compare to loving Ayra sincerely and wholeheartedly. She’s
the best thing the world has given to me and I took it for granted until now.
I know better than to make that mistake again, no matter what happens,
and no matter what it takes.”
Bella’s anguish was as clear as day. Ibrahim told himself to keep smiling.
“So stop trying to pick at my injuries, Bella, or at places that you think
would hurt. Live your life and I’ll live mine, and should our paths ever cross
again, I hope we can walk past each other without you or the others being
spiteful.” He released the hold button. “It’s tiring.”
The doors began to close and Bella took a step forward. “Serkan –”
“Goodbye, Isabella Mariá.”
“Ibrahim –”
The doors shut and the carriage began its descent. Ibrahim squatted in a
corner, holding his head in his hands and breathing in and out just so her
words and his fear would go away.
♣
Their new home was like a beehive and the busyness of it brought a serene
smile to Ibrahim’s face and placed genuine happiness in his heart. Smiling
and greeting the handymen who moved all they’d brought from The Oasis,
he stepped into the building and searched for Ayra.
He found her in the kitchen, instructing the handymen on how she wanted
their new dishes placed in the open cabinets on the wall with the blue
patterned backsplash. It was way too easy for Ibrahim to hug her from
behind and place a soft kiss on her covered shoulder. “Hey, sweetheart.”
She leaned into him, causing his heart to soar. “Hi. You stayed a little long.”
“I thought you said I should take my time.”
“I did. It gave me time to settle into all of this madness and…” She turned
around in his embrace, her smile small and pretty. “So far, so good.”
He looked around the space. “I love it.”
“Not any more than I do.”
He nodded, nearly laughing. “Not more than you do.”
“Come on.” She took his hand. “I have something for you.”

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He grinned. “I had a feeling you had something planned!”
She laughed, leading him to the patio. “Get away, Ibrahim.”
“Never!”
When they stepped out onto the patio, Ibrahim’s laughter died and surprise
spread to every part of him. Ayra let go of his hand and smiled at him. “I
told you that you’re good at painting and I want you to paint as much as
you can with the beautiful views in front of you.”
Blank, brand new canvasses sat perched on brand new easels, the beach in
the distance a beautiful backdrop. Ibrahim took small steps forward, quite
in disbelief. He traced the edge of the biggest canvas, slowly wrapping his
head around the fact that she’d gotten all of it for him, simply because she
wanted him to paint as much as he could and not because of anything else.
“I reached out to a gallery in Nohea to confirm the sizes.” She told him.
“And they were also the ones who helped me place the order. They arrived
yesterday and I was glad you left this morning. It gave the movers time to
help me set it up before you arrived. Take it as an early birthday gift from
me.”
His laugh was watery due to the tears in his ears. His hand fell back to his
side and he faced her, his chest expanding. “Ayra…God. Thank you.”
Her smile was radiant. “You’re welcome.” She walked away before he could
make a move to hug her. “Come on, Engineer Fahad. We came with only
your things today and I’m determined to get everything of yours arranged
before we get my stuff tomorrow In Shaa Allah.”
When the words made sense in his head, he followed her with furrowed
brows. “Ayra, what on earth are you talking about?”
In reply, she simply clapped her hands together once. “Chop, chop,
Ibrahim. There’s no time to dilly dally.”
Amused, he nodded and shed his coat before rolling up his sleeves to his
elbows, ready to do whatever she asked for. “Yes ma’am.”
She shot him a deep dimpled smile and it was natural for Ibrahim to smile
back. They worked hard with the handymen and ensured they cleared as
much as they could. They set up his computers in the only room downstairs
which they’d agreed to turn into a home office/studio until their plans had
to change. They arranged every newly purchased cutlery and appliance in
the kitchen, filled up every container in the laundry room, hung up his
clothes and arranged the folded ones before arranging his shoes. They laid
the bed together and Ayra’s smile hid everything she left as she stared at

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how well the navy blue duvet and pillowcases went with the lavender purple
sheets.
They arranged his cosmetics on the vanity and arranged his toiletries in the
master bathroom before they went out to move in the easels and canvasses
as the weather had gotten cooler, the breeze a notch stronger. By the time
Maghrib rolled around and the handymen left for the day, most had been
done and there were no more boxes overflowing with stuff.
Ibrahim, tired but satisfied with how much progress they’d made, faced his
wife. “What now?”
“Maghrib, a walk, Isha, and then dinner. I’m not cooking.”
He chuckled. “I wasn’t going to ask you to.”
“Good.”
He pulled her close and pecked her lips. “Good.”
They made wudhoo in the house and then walked to the masjid in the area.
Masjid An-Nur, just like its name, was bright and beautiful and Ayra loved
it so much. The prayer brought her a sense of peace and calmed her heavy
heart to an extent. When they finished, she and Ibrahim walked down the
beach, their hands swinging back and forth between them. It was then she
asked how the meeting with the squad had gone.
He told her it went well and then told her bits of his conversation with
Bella by the elevator; leaving out so much and only saying the things he
wanted her to hear. He told her he was glad he was officially done with
them and that he knew he was going to thrive without them. He was going
to better that he was before, he promised, and Ayra had no doubt that he
meant it.
They prayed Isha at the masjid and on the way back to their home, Ibrahim
placed an order for their dinner from a nearby restaurant. It wasn’t long
before their delivery arrived and they – Ibrahim and Ayra – sat in the
kitchen, on both sides of the island and helped themselves with all they’d
gotten.
Although she knew she would not be able to eat anything, Ayra unwrapped
her disposable fork before she opened the takeout pack that held her
peppered boneless chicken wings. Across from her, Ibrahim was
unwrapping his pack of chicken quesadillas. She let a minute pass,
contemplating whether or not she wanted them to eat first or if she wanted
them to get it all over with. Another minute went by and she lowered her
fork, just as Ibrahim set the maxi sized plate of rice between them.

LATIFAH EFUA A.
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Seeing that she wasn’t eating, he raised his head. His frown was small, his
concern clear. “You okay?”
Ayra moved her hands to her laps, trying to understand why or how she
still felt the tell-tale signs of tears when she’d cried them all out that
morning. She nailed a neutral expression to her face and cracked a small
smile. “Today was a day.”
His expression relaxed and he smiled. He didn’t touch his cutlery. He
simply leaned forward, folding his forearms on the cool top of the island.
“It was. These past weeks have been a lot.”
Ayra committed the image to memory; a sincere Ibrahim staring at her with
that beautiful smile of his in the kitchen of what would have been their
forever home had things not gone the way they did. She kept the small
smile on her face. “I travelled, you left The Hexad, and cut the squad off.
We got a new home and here we are…”
His expression was the softest she’d ever seen on him. “Here we are...I
wouldn’t trade it all though. Sure, the past weeks have been a roller-coaster
and I’m sure you can attest to that but it’s brought us here to this very
moment so I wouldn’t change it for anything as long as I get to accomplish
all of this with you and sit with you like this without having to worry about
anyone or anything.”
A knife buried itself in Ayra’s chest and twisted. It took her everything to
keep smiling. “That’s sweet, Ibrahim.”
“It’s the truth.” He smiled a little wider and then looked around. “But
you’re right. Today was a day and we did a lot.” He turned back to her, the
kitchen’s lighting giving him a soft halo. “I still don’t know why you had
them bring only my stuff but I know by this time tomorrow In Shaa Allah,
this home is going to be complete with all your stuff beside and between
mine.” His grin was bright and so were his eyes. “I can’t wait.”
The knife in Ayra’s chest twisted further and she swallowed painfully,
telling herself there went nothing. On her laps, her hands were tightly
clasped together. She pushed back the tears, refusing to break down until it
was all done and said. “Ibrahim.”
He propped a hand up and rested his chin on his palm, not breaking their
eye contact. “Hmm?”
Ayra held her hands tighter together, her chest bleeding all over again. “My
things are going home tomorrow In Shaa Allah.”
He nodded, still smiling. “They are. They’re coming home, here.”

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The knife kept twisting. She shook her head. “No. My things are going
home, to Plum Boulevard. Only a few things are coming here and they’re
essentials I’ll need for a little while. Everything else is either going to Plum
Boulevard or they’re going to the organisations we singled out for our
donations.”
Ibrahim’s smile was gone and he could swear the hands of the clock
stopped, time suspended. Slowly, nearly excruciatingly, he straightened and
his propped up hand lowered back to the top of the island. His heart was at
the pit of his stomach and his face was losing colour.
“Ayra…” He barely heard himself. “Ayra, what are you talking about? This
is home. Why do you need to send your things to Plum Boulevard when
we’re supposed to live together here?”
Ayra forced back the tears with all she had, wondering how people sat
down so easily to tell their other halves that they were leaving and that they
were not coming back. She had to do it and she had known it would hurt
but nothing had braced her for how much it did.
“I’m not going to live here with you, Ibrahim.” She said, her voice cold
while she screamed within. “I’m not going to live here with you longer than
I have to. This house is yours and that’s why I refused to put down my
name as a co-owner. It’s never going to be mine.”
Ibrahim’s chest began to close up and so many emotions held him hostage
that he did not even know where to start from. The pain, though, was
searing. “Ayra…” He shook his head, fear clawing at him. “Ayra, don’t do
what I think it is you’re trying to do. Ayra, don’t do this. I’m begging you.”
She nearly succumbed to her tears and her pain but somehow, she kept
going. She smiled but it had no warmth. It had no other emotion but
resignation to her fate; to what they were to become. “I want a divorce,
Ibrahim…Please.”
And just like that, the world Ibrahim had started building for the both of
them, cracked and crumbled; shattering into too many pieces he’d never be
able to put back together no matter how hard he was going to try.

LATIFAH EFUA A.
510

52
“I want a divorce, Ibrahim…Please.”
Ibrahim couldn’t breathe. Not when the pain was cutting him into way too
pieces. Not when every part of him screamed yet nothing came out of his
mouth. Not when Ayra sat on the other side of the island, staring at him
with a smile that killed him inside while her eyes reflected everything she
was trying to hide.
His voice was raw when he finally found it. “Ayra…Ayra, please. Ayra, I’m
begging you, please don’t do this.”
She stopped smiling and it killed him even more than her smile did. Her
eyes glassed over with tears that she held back and Ibrahim had never
wanted so badly for the ground to swallow him up or for it all to be a
nightmare he’d wake up from.
Ayra spoke with the strength she knew she didn’t have. “I’m not changing
my mind, Ibrahim.” Not even with how she internally tore apart over and
over with how hurt he was and how hurt she’d been for months. Not when
a part of her that she didn’t know existed begged her to stay; begged her to
forgive him. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it so please do not think I
just came up with it because I don’t know better. I want a divorce and I’m
not going back on that decision.”
“Ayra…” He moved on his body’s instructions. The legs of the island chair
he occupied scraped against the ground as he pushed it back and stood but
he didn’t care about the sound. He walked around the island and fell on his
knees. “Ayra, please. Ayra, I’m going to do anything you want and I’ll give
you whatever you want, no matter what it is, but please. Please. I won’t
survive this, Ayra, please…” His sob wrecked him whole. “Ayra, please…”
Ayra looked away, blinking furiously so no tear slipped. There were more
knives in her chest and all of them were twisting with all their might,
hurting her all at the same time and ensuring she knew what pain actually
felt like. Letting out a shaky breath, she sniffle and turned back to him. His
tears were arrows and they hit their every mark. His pleas were deadlier
weapons that ensured they worked perfectly well.
“There’s only one thing I want, Ibrahim, and you really can’t give it to me
no matter how hard you’re going to try.”
“Let me just hear what it is, Ayra, please.”
Salt rubbed on her wounds and it stung, in every part of her. “Take me
back to where I was before I met you, Ibrahim, and then leave.”

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Ibrahim died a thousand times in that very moment. “Ayra…” He couldn’t
do that. He knew that all too well. “Ayra, please…”
“On that day in August, I had plans to surprise you with lunch or dinner.”
Recalling everything that happened that day had never hurt so much. “I was
over the moon, Ibrahim, and all I wanted was to have that one meal with
you and tell you just how much I loved you and how much I was grateful to
have you. You came home early and I hid behind the wall that separates the
foyer from the living room, waiting to jump on you once you walked in and
then laugh in your ear. But that never happened and do you know why?”
A tear slipped and slid down her left cheek. “Because you were so into Bella
and making things right between the both of you with sex and everything
else that you had no idea I was right on the other side, listening to every
single thing and doing my best to not make a single sound.”
If her asking for a divorce and then asking that he took her back to where
she was before he came into his life had been painful, finding out she’d
been right inside the apartment that day in August was a death by
beheading sentence for Ibrahim. Shame, regret, pain…everything rolled
into one and he had never been sorrier in his entire life.
“You have no idea how it felt listening to the both of you. You have no
idea how it felt to not recognise the both of you; people I’d loved and
looked up to you for most of my life. You’d called me Sevigilim before and
I had no idea it was by accident and that it wasn’t meant for me until that
afternoon. And then to find out that the trip to Santorini was never meant
for the both of us? That killed me, Ibrahim. Everything killed me!”
Ibrahim’s entire being was bleeding. “Ayra, please…”
“Then you left and as if that wasn’t enough, the camera I had put in the
foyer to capture your reaction had captured everything and even if I wanted
to delude myself that all of it wasn’t real, the footage was there and I
couldn’t turn a blind eye to it, no matter how much I wanted to do so. That
was how badly I wanted it all to be a dream, Ibrahim. The world didn’t even
give me a break because from that moment, I started to catch up on all the
lies and each time I thought it wouldn’t get worse, you all proved me
wrong. You have no idea what all of that did to me. You have no idea,
Ibrahim.”
His head could only drop while he fell apart over and over again.
“It was a whole web, Ibrahim, and I was right in the middle of it, trying to
find my footing on my own while you went with Bella and the others to

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Costa Casa and lied to me that there was a business issue to sort out; the
same way you’d always been lying. The same way all of you had been lying!”
His flinch was small but she didn’t miss it and she hated it so much that it
hurt her. She hated it more than she was supposed to.
“While you were living your best life and doing God knows what, I was
right there in what I always called home, picking out one line from the
other and trying to understand what I was to do with my life while finding
myself. I had tangled myself with you to the extent that once I pulled you
out of the picture, I had no idea who I was or what I was supposed to do.
That was my life in the time you went away and it drove me insane to the
extent that I tore apart our interior because while I couldn’t erase Bella
from it, I could ruin it for us both, just like you’d ruined the sanctuary of
the place I loved from the first moment I walked in.”
Ibrahim’s frame shook with his sobs and his apology came from every part
of him. “I’m so sorry, Ayra.”
“Do you know what hurt most when you came back? It was the fact that all
along, I’d loved you with every bit of me yet you’d only seen someone else
and all I had to do was act a little different for you to notice me and see me
clearly. All I had to do was stop being the woman you knew, at least to an
extent, for you to see me clearly and start paying attention to know me well.
That was all I had to do for you to decide you wanted to spend more time
with me, not because you had to, but because you wanted to. That hurt a
lot, Ibrahim, and you have no idea how much it did. I loved you since I was
thirteen and you only began seeing me for who I was as from the last week
of August. It always killed me, Ibrahim. You always killed me.”
Ibrahim wanted to carve out his heart just so the pain would stop but he
knew he’d never be able to. The pain was a part of his karma and he
couldn’t run away from it, especially when he knew it would only get worse.
“Even when your feelings shifted, you still tried to hold on to both sides.
You still tried to keep the squad and be loyal to Bella while keeping me and
getting to sincerely know me better. You tried to do that, Ibrahim, until it
got too hard and you just wanted to break free which eventually led to
everything that played out in the past weeks; from that disaster of a dinner
with Serkan and Aliana down to your family’s fathering and up until this
very moment.” She forced out a shaky breath. “It’s been a struggle for you
until now and it’s been my whole life being turned upside down for me.”
“I’m sorry.” He cried, painfully and sincerely. “I’m so sorry, Ayra.”

TOO LITTLE, TOO LATE
513

“That trip that Ibty and I went for? It was to unearth everything I didn’t
know before and you should have seen how everyone spoke about you,
Ibrahim. You should have seen how many people thought you were better
off without the squad and that you were better off without Bella, especially
when your history with your parents was taken into consideration. And on
many of those days, I wondered how beautifully you would have been and
how much more I would have loved you had things not happened the way
they did but those were just thoughts because our reality was way different
and there was nothing I could do to change it.”
Her words were knives that stabbed him repeatedly so every part of him
had a hole from which he painfully bled from. The pain was raw and
searing and his emotions were a cocktail aimed at drowning him and
making him pay for all he’d done.
“And do you know what’s funny? The fact that even after finding out that
the only reason you’d gotten to know about me was because Hannah met
you in Singapore and told you about me, I couldn’t bring myself to just
come to the place we called home and tell you straight up that I wanted to
leave and that I wasn’t coming back, not after everything you’d done. I
couldn’t bring myself to do that because I’d heard how so many people saw
you and I’d seen how beautiful you were going to turn out to be and
whether it’s the love I had for you or whatever it was, it made me want to
help you to find your footing and get settled to an extent in your new life
before I packed my bags and left because I know I’ll never be able to stay
with you. Not after everything. I can never do it.”
He moved forward on his knees until he was right in front of her. He
hugged her legs and rested his head against them, his sobs giving way for
heart-wrenching and hollow – yet soft – wails.
“Ayra…” He hugged her legs tighter. “Ayra, please. If you want me to
apologise every single hour of the day, I will. If you want us to leave Aomi
just so you can be convinced I have nothing more to do with Bella or the
squad, we will.” His voice broke and he cried harder. “I’ll do everything and
anything you want no matter what it is, Ayra, just please…Please don’t do
this. Please don’t leave me. Please. I’m begging you with all I have, Ayra.
Please.”
She closed her eyes and the tears fell. She then bent at the waist so she
could kiss his hair, not caring about the tears that fell there. She cried and
he did too, pain, heartache, and regret a bubble wrapped around them both.
“Ayra, please…”

LATIFAH EFUA A.
514

She rested her chin on his head, sniffling. She then opened her eyes and
stared at nothing in particular. Her voice soft yet filled with every emotion
she felt, Ayra told him the truth.
“I can’t stay, Ibrahim. It’s not because I don’t want to, because there’s a