Part 2
Too Little Too Late Complete Hausa Novel · about 38 min read
People We Know & People We Don’t
♣
“We used to be close but people can go from people you know to people
you don’t,
And what hurts the most is people can go from people you know to people
you don’t.
From people you know…To people you don’t.”
- Selena Gomez, People We Know
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26
On the day she accepted his marriage proposal and on the day they actually
got married, Ayra was certain she and Ibrahim were always going to live in
pure bliss.
While the months they’d spent as husband and wife weren’t exactly what
she’d dreamed, she’d never envisioned that a day would come when she’d
stand on the other side of the wall that separated the foyer from the living
room, her hands brought up to her mouth to stop any sound from slipping
while tears streamed down her cheeks as she listened to Ibrahim bring Bella
to an earth-shattering orgasm with just his hands in the foyer of the place
she – Ayra – had learned to call home.
In her chest, her heart was a battered organ that had exploded and she
wasn’t sure there was anything else that could hurt her more than the
discovery of Ibrahim being unfaithful. She didn’t even want to try
wondering how long it had been going on for. She was scared about what
she’d find. Nothing else could hurt her like this. Nothing came close.
In the foyer, Ibrahim held the woman he loved with his face buried in the
crook of her neck as she came down from the blissful high. She left her
hands in his hair, trying to catch her breath, while he focused on restraining
himself, the bulge in his trousers nearly painful. As much as he wanted to
take her there and then and pour out every single emotion he felt, he knew
he had to wait. Until they cleared up the issue between them, he was going
to keep himself under control that came with years of practice.
The minutes ticked by and when Bella’s hands moved from his hair,
Ibrahim knew what was coming next. More than a decade of being together
had taught him more than enough. He easily caught her right hand which
had been on its way to his face. A moment later, he caught her left hand too
and when she struggled, asking to be let go, he sighed against her neck and
pulled back.
Like every single time he saw her, he was reminded that she was too
beautiful to be real; even when she glared at him, her eyes ablaze as fury and
fading lust clashed against each other. She was mad at him and he knew she
had every right to be.
The conversation they were to have was a little overdue as she’d made it
impossible for him to try to reach her. If it was to go on for any longer,
they were both going to blow the way they’d once done years back;
something none of them – including the other members of the squad – ever
wanted to relive.
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“I hate you.” Bella gritted out, trying to wriggle her hands free. “I really hate
you.”
Ibrahim sighed again and pinned her hands to her side, resting his forehead
against hers. “I’m sorry, Sevgilim.”
She laughed humourlessly. “Of course you have to be. When I’m done with
you, I’m going to kill Jalal because non aveva diritto a chiamarti in ufficio (he had
no business calling you to the office). Let go of me!”
Ibrahim stayed calm. “Sapeva che dovevo parlarti (he knew I had to talk to
you).”
Bella’s eyes blazed even more. “Fuck you.”
“Oh we’ll be getting to that very soon.” When she glared at him with more
intensity, he exhaled slowly before letting go of her hands. “Bella –”
She shoved him and it only moved him back a bit while rage consumed her
whole. “You took her to Santorini!”
“Bella –”
“No, Serkan, you should listen to me! We made plans to go to Santorini to
celebrate thirteen years of being together and we both took time out to
ensure this trip was perfect! I spent two weeks picking out that suite for you
and me and yet who went there? Who went there, Ibrahim?!”
He briefly tucked his tongue in his cheek, telling himself not to get
frustrated even in the slightest. “You knew I had no other choice.”
Bella didn’t want to hear it and her glare told him everything she wasn’t
vocally saying. He held her glare with his calm gaze. “You know, just like
everyone else, that I had no other choice, Bella. This wasn’t like any other
time when I could say the right words and Ayra would yield so we all knew
we had to act fast. It was too late to get reservations booked and I had to
use ours because if I hadn’t, we’d be in an even deeper mess now. You
know that. Anneth, Tobi, Jalal, and Nathaniel also know that. And you also
know how sorry I am; how sorry I’ve been.”
She hated the fact that her lower lip wobbled then, her rage simmering
down to almost nothing. She hated it even more that she couldn’t stop the
tears from slowly welling up in her eyes. Ibrahim felt as though a knife had
been pushed deep into his chest and unlike every time he had to pretend
that he was hurt in front of the woman he married, the pain he felt in that
moment was real.
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He closed the little space between them, his hands moving to her arms.
“Sevgilim –”
She looked away. “I shouldn’t be like this. I hate that it affects me this
much.”
His chest twisted painfully. “I’m really, really sorry, Bella.” He pulled her
against him and kissed her hair. “I really didn’t want to go there with her
but when we saw that this wasn’t going to be like those other times when
we could easily make it up to her and Ibty, it was the only option. I’ve made
sure to apologise to you every single hour since then, Bella.”
She sniffled against his chest. “I hate her so much right now. I’ve always
hated her but right now, it’s twice the usual amount. I hate that stupid Ibty
even more.”
He spoke with no hesitation. “I know.”
“This was supposed to be easy yet here we are, trying to maintain cordial
relationships with a fucking twenty-one year old Nigerian who thinks she
has the right to be haughty when all we want to do is push her into the
nearest ditch.” She sniffled. “I hate Santorini now too. We’re never going
there unless we don’t have any other choice.”
“We won’t. I know better than to do that.”
She pulled back and glared at him once again. She raised a pointed finger.
“And you’re making it up to me from this very moment. I don’t care how
you want to do it but you are making it up to me, Serkan. I don’t care if she
throws a fit or not. I don’t care if Ibty or whatever her name is tries to be
bitchy or not. I’ve been selfless enough and you know it.”
He knew that better than anyone. He nodded. “I will, I promise. I’ve made
reservations already but the resort’s a little full so we’ll have to wait a little
longer. I would say where we’re going but maybe I should surprise you. Just
know it’s not Santorini.”
He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, glad her tears were gone. No
one hated it when she cried more than he did. He hated it even more when
he was the cause or when he had a hand in it. “You’re not a second choice
or an afterthought, Bella, and like I’ve always promised, I’m not going to
make you feel that way by taking you to another resort on that same
island.”
“I still hate you.”
“Come on, Sevgilim, you don’t mean that. I’m sorry.”
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“Let’s see how you make it up to me first.” She completely pulled away
from him with reluctance he didn’t miss and then she ran a hand through
her hair. “Never do this again, Ibrahim. I really won’t forgive you.”
“The number of times I’ve heard that phrase this month and last month is
starting to get scary.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.” He knew better than to think she wasn’t. “What do you want me
to do to fix it right now?”
“I’ve been near celibate for almost a month now with nothing but my toys
while you’ve been here with Mrs Fahad so you can start by fixing that,
Serkan. The orgasm I just had was nice but I’m gonna need more than
that.” She then shook her head. “No, we need to go down first because I
should have hit you when I realised we came up to this place instead of
going home.”
“It’s not my fault things escalated in the elevator and we couldn’t stop on
the eight floor.”
Her eyes blazed once more. “Serkan –”
“I love you. And I’m sorry.”
She folded her arms and looked away, as though she wasn’t stopping herself
from saying she loved him right back. When she spoke, her voice was
quieter. “After that, let’s go to our other home. Let’s celebrate there. We
have spent more than a decade together after all and I really don’t want to
deal with Ayra coming down to our place today simply because you’re there
and she’s too much of a simp to stay up here and be the trophy wife she
was supposed to be.”
He pulled her back to him and kissed her with gentleness that meant for
just her; no one else. Not even Ayra. Like always, Bella melted into him and
it took every sheer of self-restraint for Ibrahim to not back her up against
the wall and do every single thing he wanted. He broke the kiss and pulled
back.
“You want us to go to Costa Casa tonight.”
She held his gaze, silently daring him to say otherwise. “Why? You don’t
want to?”
“I didn’t say that.” The wheels in his head were moving. “You do realise
we’re all in tight spots, right? I don’t even know what I’m going to tell Ayra
because as much as I shouldn’t be mentioning her name around you or
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even talking about her, we did make those shitty promises that we’ll be
around for a while. I don’t know what to say now because I don’t think
telling her there’s a work emergency is going to cut it anymore. Also, we
don’t have a branch in Costa Casa.”
“We’re planning on branching there in the near future so you can come up
with one excuse or the other but we are going to the villa tonight and that’s
final. We’ve fed her with enough lies, especially that one of you calling your
mother during Eid when we both know you did nothing expect stay with
me so what’s one more lie? Ayra’s had you here with her while I sucked it
all up and played the role of the apologetic friend but I’m sick and tired of
all of it right now so she needs to suck it all up now. You’ll definitely come
up with something or you can ask Tobi but we’re going to the villa tonight.
I don’t want to hear anything else.”
The minute that followed was a little tense, both of them staring at each
other. Yielding, Ibrahim sighed and nodded. “Okay. We’ll go to Costa Casa
tonight. I’ll ask Tobi to come up with something and relay it to the others.
They might want to come along too.”
“I really don’t care. We all need it anyway. We need a break from all of this,
especially from the unnecessary need to be in the good books of two
women we really don’t care about.”
He smiled then. “We do. It’s been a heck of a year.”
There was a stab of various emotions in her chest then; anger, irritation,
jealousy, a little hatred, and envy. “One where you ate your cake and still
had it.”
His smile shrunk, his heart dropping. “Bella.”
She sighed, exhausted. “Let’s just go home, please. I really hate this place.”
He raised a brow. “Yet you picked out every furniture piece and had them
arranged the way you wanted.”
“Because I was going to be here from time to time and you said you wanted
to have a trace of me in every corner, especially in your room. Right now I
hate it all, Serkan, so let’s go home, please. There’s a lot to do and a lot of
positions I’d rather be in than to be standing here arguing with you.”
His heart did its little jump and every unholy thought crossed his mind;
mental images that sent even more blood rushing downwards. He laced her
fingers with his, a devilish smile tilting his lips upwards. “Let’s go home
then.”
“And we’ll leave for the villa when we’re done.”
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He unlocked the door and pulled it open, his smile now a smirk. “Let’s
hope you can walk by then.”
She finally smiled. “I’m not hoping for anything of that sort. My toys have
been overused so I need you to wreck me in every way possible.”
He laughed in a way he’d never done with Ayra. “I’ll do that, I promise.”
They stepped out of the apartment. “I love you, Bella.”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder as the door closed behind them. “I
love you too, Ibrahim. I’m still mad at you though.”
“Let’s get it out of your system then.”
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
Inside the apartment they’d just left, Ayra stayed still until the door
slammed shut and the lock automatically clicked in place. With her back
against the wall, she slid to the ground, her hands still clamped over her
mouth while tears continued to stream down both sides of her face. In her
chest, where her heart should be, was a hollow space with way too many
pieces of the organ she’d given to him on a golden platter since she’d been
thirteen.
In the foyer, the camera kept recording, down to its final bar.
♣
Before her dream of being Mrs Fahad became a reality, Ayra used to tell
anyone who asked what her relationship deal breakers were that cheating
was at the very top of her list.
“It’s disgusting.” She used to say. “I can’t stay with someone who cheats. As soon as I
find out that he’s seeing someone else, whether I’m close to her or not, I’m out. It’s just so
disgusting. Like, why would you cheat when you can just leave me and go with the other
woman?”
In those moments, Ibtihaj – who always sat beside or opposite her – would
nod in agreement and say “Exactly.”
However, as she sat in the middle of the barely lit living room long after
every mosque in Aomi had prayed Isha, Ayra realised leaving a relationship
once she caught the man she loved – and married – cheating was easier said
than done. It wasn’t as though she didn’t want to stand by her words; no, it
wasn’t that at all.
It was that in the hours that followed the scene that had played out in the
foyer, Ayra had reached some painfully humbling realisations. Each
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revelation shattered her more than the last one did until there was barely
any part of her left.
First, when she removed everything regarding Ibrahim and the Fahads from
every part of her life, she had no idea who she was; what her true character
was, what she actually liked, what she wanted to do with her
life…Everything. She had no idea.
She’d spent a near decade building everything around him, even when she
didn’t know she was doing so. The things she was so sure she loved were
things that complimented everything he liked and all she’d ever wanted to
do with her life was be his wife. She’d built everything around him and now
that those things were crashing down, she didn’t know what part was
actually her and if she walked out of the house, she’d leaving with way too
pieces she’ll have to sieve through to figure out how to build herself back
up.
Secondly, when she considered everything that had happened in most of
her life, she had no idea how to stand on her two feet. This situation wasn’t
any different. When she’d finished crying hours earlier, the first thing she’d
thought of was calling Ibtihaj and she was already going through with it
when an unfamiliar voice in her head asked ‘What is Ibty actually going to do,
Leilani?’.
It’d felt as though ice-cold water had been poured over her head and when
her mind began to reel, she realised in more than the last decade, someone
fought for her once an unpleasant situation arose.
If she had a bad day at school where someone was mean, she turned to her
parents and when Ibtihaj came along, she began to turn to Ibtihaj because
she knew her best friend would have the right words and would scare
everyone away. Even now that she was married, she’d turned to Ibtihaj a lot
and every time she and Ibrahim had to iron things out, Ibtihaj played a
major role in the background.
Realising she didn’t know who she really was and that she wasn’t
independent in any way felt as though she kept being shot even when she
was already laying on the floor in the pool of her blood.
The last realisation she was still mulling over as it hurt more than the others
was that she’d been played in the worst ways by the man she loved and his
best friends who she’d been so happy to open the doors of her heart to. It
was extremely difficult to believe that the entire year had been nothing but a
lie. While there was a part of her that wanted to know exactly what they’d
done with her life, she was terrified to figure it all out because she had no
idea what she’d find or how deep all of it ran.
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The messages she’d received shortly after Bella and Ibrahim left already
made her realise the pattern that came each time they had to make
spontaneous trips for “work”. Someone always texted first – mostly
Ibrahim – and then the others would follow suit, apologising over and over
for having to leave without any prior notice.
This time, just as Bella had suggested, Tobi texted her first, saying they had
to leave for Costa Casa because there were some lands they had to check
out. Lands, according to him, that’ll hold their Costa Casa branch when
they finally got everything sorted.
Ibrahim’s text had followed in which he apologised like he always did;
sweetly, with promises to make it up to her laced between the words. Bella’s
text, for the first time, seemed robotic and she kept her apology short
which told Ayra all she needed to know; that Bella meant nothing she sent.
Anneth, Jalal, and Nathaniel had similar texts, each one seeming so genuine
while being so, so fake.
She’d cried when the pattern made sense in her sense and she’d had to stop
herself from tracing it back to when it all began because she knew it would
take her back to when the engagement was still new.
The final nail in the coffin, for her, was realising the camera had recorded
everything once she removed it from its spot. Finding it dead when she
brought it down told her it’d been running all along and throughout the
time it charged, two sides of her clashed; the part that prayed that it didn’t
record anything so she could somehow hold onto the shrinking hope that
everything was a bad nightmare and the part that hoped everything was
caught on the device so she could see the two people she thought she
actually knew.
The video – which was longer than any video she’d made in her entire life –
was securely stored in the camcorder’s storage and watching it all had her
crying again. When she eventually moved the footage to a flash drive, she
connected it to the TV and watched the video over and over again until her
tears stopped flowing and she knew the exact minute and second the door
went open and Ibrahim stumbled into the apartment with Bella.
That was where she still was and the TV was the only thing that lit up the
wide space alongside the light from the upper floor. As she watched
everything play out one more time, Ayra felt the tears return and she cursed
it all, including her hormones as her period had come after Maghrib with
the worst cramps she’d ever had.
She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her hands, letting
the tears flow as small sobs wrecked her whole. Her chest was hollower
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than it had been that afternoon and all that was in her mind was a single
question: What she was going to do and where would she go from there?
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27
Costa Casa, Atlantica
The island which held the Atlantican state of Costa Casa was divided into
five; four districts and a capital. The four districts, like the other states of
the country, were named after the cardinal points; Northern Costa Casa,
Southern Costa Casa, Eastern Costa Casa, and Western Costa Casa. The
island’s capital, Reito, sat in the middle of it all.
Every district had its beautiful beaches and resorts which made the island
the most visited by nationals and tourists alike as it was the tropical heaven
of Atlantica. It had beautiful residential properties too, such as the gated
compound on the edge of the northern district which held four luxuriously
built and furnished bungalows; a gated property that only a few people
knew belonged to The Hexad Squad.
Surrounded by tall trees that provided natural privacy beyond the stone
fence and nestled nicely on a highland which gave it stunning views of the
Atlantic Ocean, the property was one of Costa Casa’s hottest. Tobi had
been the one to close the deal for the squad back in 2014 after the company
had kicked off and they realised they needed a place to unwind each time
the opportunity presented itself; times when they didn’t want to leave the
country.
Two bungalows in the compound belonged to a pair; the farthest for Bella
and Ibrahim, and the one in the middle for Anneth and Nathaniel. The two
bungalows a little far from the gates belonged to Jalal and Tobi respectfully.
The four bungalows had the same floor plan; a living room with a lot of
space, an Italian styled kitchen with a breakfast nook that served as the
eating area, two bedrooms, and a sundeck with loungers and hammock
seats. The exterior was the same too; stone walls coming together with
wood and glass to create masterpieces. The property had a central pool and
one addition from the squad was the round gazebo they used for grill
dinners and game nights. They sometimes watched movies there too. The
interior of each bungalow, though, couldn’t be more different from the
other as it was done to fit each owner; colours coming together alongside
furniture pieces to make each house a home away from home.
The sun rising over the island was what woke Bella up from a blissfully
deep sleep as the full length windows were uncovered, both she and
Ibrahim forgetting to pull the curtains back together before they’d finally
given into sleep hours earlier. When her eyes adjusted to the rays that shone
into the room, she sighed and rolled over, meeting Ibrahim’s side empty
and cold.
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She frowned slightly and sat up, an ache between her legs from all their
rendezvous straight from Aomi until they slept. Goosebumps broke out
briefly on her skin as the cool air hit her bare body. She looked around,
waiting to hear the sound of the shower running but she heard nothing.
“Serkan?”
Silence was all she got in response and her attention moved to the
nightstand when his phone beeped, the screen lighting up with a new
message. She stretched and picked the device up, unlocking it quite easily. A
brow rose naturally when she saw the message was from Ayra.
Ayra A.: Hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry I’m just texting back now. I
wasn’t feeling so good yesterday but I’m fine now. I hope you arrived
safely and I hope you take it easy on yourself. Say hi to the others for
me, please. I’ll text them later In Shaa Allah. I love you!
Rolling her eyes, Bella put the phone to sleep and returned it to the
nightstand. Pushing the duvet back, she put her feet on her cool floor and
pushed herself off the bed. Not bothering to put on a shirt or anything, she
opened the door and walked out of the room. The heavenly mix of food
aromas hit her nose immediately and with a small smile that came naturally,
she made her way to the kitchen.
Ibrahim was in nothing but dark blue sweatpants with his back turned
towards the door where she stood as he set the breakfast nook, putting the
served dishes in perfect spots. Draped on her usual chair was one of his
shirts and she knew even if she ended up putting it on, it’ll come off while
they were eating or even right after. After all, there was something about
coming to this very home that always made them insatiable.
Well aware that she’d moved from the door to stand right behind him,
Ibrahim put the cutlery for both of them down and then faced her, his
smile soft and lovely while his heart did that its usual little jump each time it
came to her. It was natural for him to pull her close. “I was hoping you’d be
asleep for a little longer.”
She smiled a little wider. “Why?”
“I haven’t gotten dessert ready yet. I was hoping to make sugar cookies but
I guess we can settle for something else. After all, there’s ice cream in the
fridge and we both know the way I like it.”
Anticipating what would come when he got the tub of ice-cream out of the
fridge, she pushed herself to her toes and kissed him hard; their way of
saying good morning once there was no need for them to pretend as
though they hadn’t been together for years. Ibrahim kept a steady arm
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around her waist while the other moved to cup the back of her neck as he
moved his head sideways so he could deepen the kiss, almost feral when
she returned his dominance with hers.
It was way too easy to forget about the meal he’d prepared – from chicken
dumplings to her favourite potato salad – and back her up against the
nearest counter while her hands moved to push down the band of his
trousers. Being buried deep inside of her a minute later, like always, felt like
home and he savoured it all; his face buried in its favourite spot in the
crook of her neck.
Her eyes rolled back when he moved and she spoke with her hands in his
hair. “Your wife texted, finally. It’s quite unlike her.”
His pace didn’t slow; it picked up instead. “And what did she say?”
It took everything in her to stay focused while he satisfied her every
morning craving. “Something about being a little down or…Serkan.”
He kept his eyes on her face, finding the usual satisfaction that came with
watching her unravel; every part of her solely at his mercy. “Did you give
her a reply?”
Her glare should have sent him to the next grave. “Not today. I’m not
texting her until we get back.”
He grabbed her chin, a little rough. “That’s fine. I’ll text her later.”
Her nails dug into his scalp as she felt the pressure start to build. “You need
to make up for her kinda ruining my morning.”
He grinned, perfect dentition on full display. “Okay.”
He gave her everything she wanted and the climax had her milking him dry
which pushed him to near insanity. When they managed to catch their
breaths, he kissed her softly. “Let’s clean up and eat.”
“I think we should have dessert first. There is ice-cream in the fridge after
all.”
His laugh was deep and so velvety that her toes curled, her smile a natural
reaction. He kissed her again. “You’re not going to kill me, Bella.”
“I can’t do that, Serkan. I love you.”
He kissed her once more, taking his sweetest time. “And I love you too.”
♣
Aomi, Atlantica
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Ayra stepped out of the apartment at noon when her mind stopped being
numb and little pieces had fallen into place. Her head throbbed, a side
effect of the sleep she’d barely gotten, but she ignored it as she took the
elevator down to the lobby.
She murmured greetings at those she knew in the time she’d stayed in the
residential area and if anyone found it weird that her eyes were swollen with
dark circles underneath while her face was flushed, they said nothing and
she was insanely grateful.
Going out through the main doors, she didn’t stop until she was on the
other side of the tarred road. She then turned around and stared at the
towering structure of The Oasis, remembering how amazed she and Ibtihaj
had been – like every other citizen of the country – when the property
became open to the public.
She then recalled how Ibrahim had told her they’d been staying in The
Oasis once they were married and she nearly laughed humourlessly now
that it all made sense to her.
“Bella and her lover moved recently,” He told her back then, right there by the
pool in his parents’ home. “And they’ve had nothing but good reviews so I got us an
apartment at The Oasis. We’ll be staying there when we get married In Shaa Allah.”
And the previous day, Bella had called the apartment on the 8th floor
“home”; not for her (Bella) and the Serkan she’d introduced to Ayra in
December but for her and the Serkan who was Ibrahim.
Swallowing the bitter lump in her throat while her hands were painfully
balled into fists, Ayra crossed the road and walked back in. The elevator
carriage was already on the lobby floor so she got in and pressed the eighth
floor button. Once she got there, she walked all the way to Unit 8C and
stared at the closed door, recalling how months back Bella had opened up
with a smile on her face and ushered her in, saying welcome in Italian.
Thinking back now, Ayra realised there was more Bella said that day while
she said welcome and she’d never wished so badly that she understood the
language so she could know everything Bella said. Her line of sight moved
to the keypad by the side and she thought about how the other members of
the squad had come in, knowing the passcode; something she never even
bothered to wonder why she didn’t know it too since she lived in the same
apartment building and could check up on Bella if there was any need to.
She then recalled how Ibrahim had been against her idea of making changes
to their own apartment, stating that he didn’t want white walls and black
accessories and “let Serkan and Bella deal with that alone”. Yet, he’d called
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the apartment he claimed to not like “home” an exact day before and he’d
come down to it before leaving for Costa Casa to the villa Ayra knew
nothing about.
As she tightened her fists, causing her nails to dig into her palms, Ayra
recalled the story Bella had shared; she and Serkan being together for more
than a decade and going all the way to Leicester where Ayra knew they’d all
schooled together, “Serkan’s” parents disapproving of their relationship and
wanting him to get married to someone else, both of them living their best
lives without actually committing and then the sex that was a big bonus.
Replaying the conversation in her head sprung up way too many questions
and when it felt like her head was ready to split in two, Ayra forced herself
to walk away. The elevator ride up was short and it was the first time she
helped herself into the apartment she’d called home while looking at it with
a different eye; the rose coloured lens of love had been painfully pulled off
after all.
The foyer no longer seemed welcoming and beautiful. It felt tainted; used
and all she could see as she stared at the floating shelf was Bella clinging
onto Ibrahim as she came undone on his hand with his fingers buried deep
inside of her. All Ayra could see was the gentle way Ibrahim had held Bella
and the way he’d stared at her; a way she couldn’t remember ever being
stared at by him, not so sincerely at least. It said a lot because there was
nothing that ever gave it away that the looks and expressions he gave her
(Ayra) were ever fake.
She turned away from the floating shelf and looked up at the corner where
the camera had been. The thought of installing a CCTV camera popped up
from nowhere and she did nothing to push it away. Keeping the thought in
mind, she walked deeper into the house.
Everything, now that she knew Bella was the one who’d picked it all,
seemed very ugly and the hatred that hit her was so strong that it scared her
to death because she’d never hated something that much. The beige walls
no longer offered warmth and the white sofas now seemed too bright. The
painting above the TV made Ayra realise that they never really got around
picking out a photo from their wedding album to get framed and hung up.
In fact, now that she thought of it, they’d only looked at the album together
twice. Each time she went through it in order to relive the memories, she
was on her own and he was either at the office, with Bella downstairs, or
they were all out of the country.
She laughed dryly despite the tears that prickled her eyes. “Ayra, you’ve
been the biggest fool.”
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And it hurt like hell.
The kitchen was spotlessly clean; something she’d ensured the previous
night before heading up. She couldn’t bring herself to hate it and she had
no idea why. She thought about how excited she’d been to make dishes for
him, to surprise him, and yet she’d been the one who’d been so surprised
that her heart and mind were no longer the same.
Fate, she decided then and there, worked in very twisted ways.
She left the kitchen and headed up. The family lounge, for the first time,
seemed too small and too choked up and she hated the voile curtains that
swayed. She went to the room he’d called Ayra’s space and she hated it all
as she saw it for what it was; a den to keep her in and preoccupied while he
went ahead to do everything else.
Her room no longer seemed stunning and the only thing she couldn’t bring
herself to dislike was the painting on the wall which was of her, covered
with a Leilani in full bloom. Not knowing why, she moved forward and
climbed the bed to take a very close look at it. The strokes had been done
with precision and she realised then she never asked who the artist was. For
the first time, she realised there was a little signature in the bottom left
corner and her heart – in its hole – sunk even deeper as she read out what
was spelt in the cursive calligraphy in red paint that matched the flower.
“S.F.” She had to squint a little. “Serkan Fahad.”
Another memory hit, clashing with the new discovery; her birthday the
previous month and what he’d said after she’d twirled in front of him,
wearing the baby pink dress he’d gotten.
“I’m no painter but God knows if I could create masterpieces with the strokes of brushes
against canvas, I’d have captured the radiance and happiness coming off you in waves.”
She nearly fell as she hurriedly got off the bed, catching the foot of the
bedframe just in time to stop herself from toppling forward. She ran back
down, straight to the living room, and she pulled one of the side stools
towards the wall with the painting. In the bottom left corner of that
painting was the same signature and the name underneath; S.F. Serkan
Fahad.
Ayra shook her head, too deep in disbelief. “No…No.”
She got off the stool and went to the foyer. The two mini paintings on the
floating shelves had the same signatures and it hurt…All of it hurt; like little
knives that kept cutting every part of her that was visible. Recalling there
was a painting in his room, she went there. Like the first time she stepped
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into it, she was hit with the fact that it was his room. It was all of him and
there was only very little of her in it. She then remembered what Bella said;
that she’d done work in here because he wanted to have traces of her in the
apartment.
Not wanting to dwell on it for her own sake, she took small steps in and
went straight to the sitting area, focusing on the painting on the wall. Unlike
the first time she’d seen the painting, it was no longer hard to make out
who it was. It was a painting of Isabella Valentino; done in a way to confuse
people who didn’t know her as well as he and the other members of the
squad did. And right there in the bottom left corner was his signature yet
again: S.F. Serkan Fahad.
“Don’t think too hard about who it is.” Ibrahim had said with his chin on her
shoulder and his mouth by her ear the first time she and Ibtihaj had come
to tour the apartment. “I just saw it and I liked it. Helen also said it fit the theme of
the room.”
Ayra, in so much pain, realised there was no way Helen was not in too on
whatever scheme had played out. She – Ayra – had actually loved the
painting because Ibrahim loved it and each time she saw him glance
towards it, she never imagined that he was thinking about Bella. That he
was looking right at Bella.
Her mind went back to Bella’s house. The paintings in the study and then
all of the pictures, especially in the one in the living room which had made
her feel as though Serkan was familiar with his knee length shorts, his extra
loose top and his hair that had been captured being ruffled by the wind.
Ayra had to bring a hand up to her mouth to muffle the sound of her
choking on a sob. She’d assumed it was because she’d seen the “Serkan” on
the day of her and Ibrahim’s Nikkah, having absolutely no idea that she’d
been staring at Ibrahim himself.
“This photo was taken in Cape Town.” Bella had said and Ayra wondered how
the pieces only came together in that moment.
The Fahads had been the ones who brought together South Africa and
Atlantica in unimaginable ways and she knew – like everyone else – that
they had a number of properties in the country, especially in Cape Town.
She thought she couldn’t feel even more pain but every new thing she
learned proved her wrong as she broke further and further; in ways she’d
never ever done before while being surrounded by things that now felt so
unfamiliar.
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She let her body move on its own accord, towards his walk in closet. The
lights blinded her momentarily when she switched them on and when her
eyes adjusted, she moved and went through each storage space, not feeling
even an ounce of guilt. His perfume drawer had her pausing. Staring at his
row of Tom Fords made her really think once again, more pieces snapping
into place and leaving her in even more pain.
She remembered hugging Bella the first time she and Ibtihaj met the squad
and saying “You scent exactly like Ibrahim.”
They – the squad – had laughed and then Anneth had said Bella was the
biggest perfume thief and “I think Ibrahim’s tired of changing his perfumes because
of her so they’ve stuck this one. We all have actually.”
As she stared at the perfume bottles, she realised – quite belatedly – that no
one else in the squad used Tom Ford’s Oud Wood; only Ibrahim and Bella,
despite Anneth saying then that they’d all stuck to it. Only Ibrahim and
Bella used the perfume and then he’d gotten it for her as part of his
wedding gifts to her and also as a part of her birthday present.
She took a shaky step back and tripped on the hem of her kimono, going
straight to the floor as a painfully prickly sensation she couldn’t recognise
crept towards her throat from her chest. She recalled a story she’d come
across online with Ibtihaj; a story of a man who got his wife bottles of a
particular perfume which she loved using until she came across a message
on his phone where he told his lover that having his wife spraying the
perfume in the house was nice because it reminded him of her (the lover),
especially when he and his wife had to get intimate.
The painfully prickly sensation slipped past Ayra’s lips as an eerie scream.
She moved to her knees and held her head in her hands, shaking it from left
to right as more and more things came crashing down. Each time he’d
hugged her, he’d held her tight and more than once he’d said “You always
scent like home, Ayra. You have no idea just how much you do.”
And those times, she’d smiled, glad she made him feel safe while having no
idea that she wasn’t the home he was referring to. His home had always
been two floors below and he’d gone there time and time again, even when
it was late and she wanted them to do something such as watching a movie
together or even running a home spa session.
Ayra kept screaming, feeling too much at once and breaking in way too
many ways. All of it, from the very start, had been a lie and there was no
more denying the truth that was as clear as day.
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She was his wife in the public’s eye and on paper but in real life? She was
the other woman. She’d always been the other woman. In real life, there
was only one Mrs Fahad and it wasn’t her.
It was Bella.
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28
Ayra was seated at the dining table in the kitchen when the clock struck
midnight and the calendar date moved from Thursday, August 12th to
Friday, August 13th. It had only been a full day since Bella and Ibrahim left
but with the discoveries Ayra had made and with the emotional numbness
she felt, it felt as though it had been years.
Her eyes were still a little swollen and the dark circles underneath were even
more prominent. She’d only bathed because of the blood she was losing
and her hair had never been so messy; curls tangled slightly as she’d been so
unmotivated to even run a wide toothed comb through them. The
nightdress she wore was long, reaching her ankles with sleeves that stopped
at her elbows. For the first time in so long, her lips were dry and were on
their way to being chapped.
In front of her, on the top of the table, was her laptop. Displayed on the
screen were minimised browser windows, all of them displaying every single
social media page – from Instagram all the way to LinkedIn – of Serkan
Yilmaz; the man Bella had introduced as her lover.
The longer she stared at the displayed pages, the more Ayra wondered if
things would have gotten this far had she not trusted Bella and the others
so blindly. If she’d gone ahead back then to try to find him out online, it
would have told her that there were things that didn’t quite add up.
Serkan Yilmaz was a real person and he was the same man Ayra had seen
on the day of her and Ibrahim’s Nikkah; the same man who winked at Bella
before disappearing. Unlike all she thought and all she was told, Serkan
Yilmaz was a married man with two daughters he clearly loved more than
anything.
Like Bella had said, he was Turkish but he wasn’t based there and neither
was his family – both nuclear and extended. They were all based in Europe
and unlike what Bella said the first time Ayra went down to the apartment
on the eighth floor, Serkan Yilmaz was not a software developer neither did
he like tech as much as the squad did. He’d tweeted about it so many times
because his wife – Aliana – was into coding.
Serkan Yilmaz was into banking and finance and he was very accomplished
in that area. He dabbled in acting too, getting little roles as a way to unwind.
It told Ayra all she needed to know as to how he’d been able to step into
the shoes of the real Serkan and play it out really well based on the very
little she knew.
Taking in all that was opened, Ayra closed most of the windows and
maximised Serkan Yilmaz’s Instagram page. She scrolled down, to a photo
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that had been taken in May 2019; mere months before the first time
Ibrahim claimed to have stumbled upon her picture on the same social
media platform.
In that particular post, Serkan, his wife – Aliana, and the entire Hexad
squad stood with their arms around each other’s shoulders and wide smiles
on their faces. Bella stood between her two Serkans: the real Serkan who
was Ibrahim and the Serkan that played the role of her lover perfectly well,
fooling both Ayra and Ibtihaj.
Ayra snipped the photo with her laptop’s snipping tool and then uploaded
the saved photo to her Google drive, placing it in the same folder that now
held the footage from the foyer and pictures of every other discovery she’d
made. Going through all the posts once again, she closed Serkan Yilmaz’s
page and pulled up Bella’s and Ibrahim’s; putting them side by side and
scrolling through both simultaneously. In the mental puzzle sheet that was
spread out in her head, more pieces fell into place.
Side by side, Ibrahim and Bella’s posts told a story of people who’d been
together for a very long time; pictures complimenting each other in a way
that wouldn’t be noticeable if the person scrolling through didn’t have both
pages open side by side the way Ayra did. She couldn’t help but smile
bitterly as she saw how she’d liked each and every post on both pages,
oblivious like most people in the world to both Ibrahim and Bella telling
everyone codedly that they were together.
Her tear glands were dry, otherwise she would have cried again as she
reached the bottom of both pages and restarted the scrolling process, seeing
everything in a brand new light. She’d stopped assuming there was no more
♣
“We used to be close but people can go from people you know to people
you don’t,
And what hurts the most is people can go from people you know to people
you don’t.
From people you know…To people you don’t.”
- Selena Gomez, People We Know
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26
On the day she accepted his marriage proposal and on the day they actually
got married, Ayra was certain she and Ibrahim were always going to live in
pure bliss.
While the months they’d spent as husband and wife weren’t exactly what
she’d dreamed, she’d never envisioned that a day would come when she’d
stand on the other side of the wall that separated the foyer from the living
room, her hands brought up to her mouth to stop any sound from slipping
while tears streamed down her cheeks as she listened to Ibrahim bring Bella
to an earth-shattering orgasm with just his hands in the foyer of the place
she – Ayra – had learned to call home.
In her chest, her heart was a battered organ that had exploded and she
wasn’t sure there was anything else that could hurt her more than the
discovery of Ibrahim being unfaithful. She didn’t even want to try
wondering how long it had been going on for. She was scared about what
she’d find. Nothing else could hurt her like this. Nothing came close.
In the foyer, Ibrahim held the woman he loved with his face buried in the
crook of her neck as she came down from the blissful high. She left her
hands in his hair, trying to catch her breath, while he focused on restraining
himself, the bulge in his trousers nearly painful. As much as he wanted to
take her there and then and pour out every single emotion he felt, he knew
he had to wait. Until they cleared up the issue between them, he was going
to keep himself under control that came with years of practice.
The minutes ticked by and when Bella’s hands moved from his hair,
Ibrahim knew what was coming next. More than a decade of being together
had taught him more than enough. He easily caught her right hand which
had been on its way to his face. A moment later, he caught her left hand too
and when she struggled, asking to be let go, he sighed against her neck and
pulled back.
Like every single time he saw her, he was reminded that she was too
beautiful to be real; even when she glared at him, her eyes ablaze as fury and
fading lust clashed against each other. She was mad at him and he knew she
had every right to be.
The conversation they were to have was a little overdue as she’d made it
impossible for him to try to reach her. If it was to go on for any longer,
they were both going to blow the way they’d once done years back;
something none of them – including the other members of the squad – ever
wanted to relive.
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“I hate you.” Bella gritted out, trying to wriggle her hands free. “I really hate
you.”
Ibrahim sighed again and pinned her hands to her side, resting his forehead
against hers. “I’m sorry, Sevgilim.”
She laughed humourlessly. “Of course you have to be. When I’m done with
you, I’m going to kill Jalal because non aveva diritto a chiamarti in ufficio (he had
no business calling you to the office). Let go of me!”
Ibrahim stayed calm. “Sapeva che dovevo parlarti (he knew I had to talk to
you).”
Bella’s eyes blazed even more. “Fuck you.”
“Oh we’ll be getting to that very soon.” When she glared at him with more
intensity, he exhaled slowly before letting go of her hands. “Bella –”
She shoved him and it only moved him back a bit while rage consumed her
whole. “You took her to Santorini!”
“Bella –”
“No, Serkan, you should listen to me! We made plans to go to Santorini to
celebrate thirteen years of being together and we both took time out to
ensure this trip was perfect! I spent two weeks picking out that suite for you
and me and yet who went there? Who went there, Ibrahim?!”
He briefly tucked his tongue in his cheek, telling himself not to get
frustrated even in the slightest. “You knew I had no other choice.”
Bella didn’t want to hear it and her glare told him everything she wasn’t
vocally saying. He held her glare with his calm gaze. “You know, just like
everyone else, that I had no other choice, Bella. This wasn’t like any other
time when I could say the right words and Ayra would yield so we all knew
we had to act fast. It was too late to get reservations booked and I had to
use ours because if I hadn’t, we’d be in an even deeper mess now. You
know that. Anneth, Tobi, Jalal, and Nathaniel also know that. And you also
know how sorry I am; how sorry I’ve been.”
She hated the fact that her lower lip wobbled then, her rage simmering
down to almost nothing. She hated it even more that she couldn’t stop the
tears from slowly welling up in her eyes. Ibrahim felt as though a knife had
been pushed deep into his chest and unlike every time he had to pretend
that he was hurt in front of the woman he married, the pain he felt in that
moment was real.
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He closed the little space between them, his hands moving to her arms.
“Sevgilim –”
She looked away. “I shouldn’t be like this. I hate that it affects me this
much.”
His chest twisted painfully. “I’m really, really sorry, Bella.” He pulled her
against him and kissed her hair. “I really didn’t want to go there with her
but when we saw that this wasn’t going to be like those other times when
we could easily make it up to her and Ibty, it was the only option. I’ve made
sure to apologise to you every single hour since then, Bella.”
She sniffled against his chest. “I hate her so much right now. I’ve always
hated her but right now, it’s twice the usual amount. I hate that stupid Ibty
even more.”
He spoke with no hesitation. “I know.”
“This was supposed to be easy yet here we are, trying to maintain cordial
relationships with a fucking twenty-one year old Nigerian who thinks she
has the right to be haughty when all we want to do is push her into the
nearest ditch.” She sniffled. “I hate Santorini now too. We’re never going
there unless we don’t have any other choice.”
“We won’t. I know better than to do that.”
She pulled back and glared at him once again. She raised a pointed finger.
“And you’re making it up to me from this very moment. I don’t care how
you want to do it but you are making it up to me, Serkan. I don’t care if she
throws a fit or not. I don’t care if Ibty or whatever her name is tries to be
bitchy or not. I’ve been selfless enough and you know it.”
He knew that better than anyone. He nodded. “I will, I promise. I’ve made
reservations already but the resort’s a little full so we’ll have to wait a little
longer. I would say where we’re going but maybe I should surprise you. Just
know it’s not Santorini.”
He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, glad her tears were gone. No
one hated it when she cried more than he did. He hated it even more when
he was the cause or when he had a hand in it. “You’re not a second choice
or an afterthought, Bella, and like I’ve always promised, I’m not going to
make you feel that way by taking you to another resort on that same
island.”
“I still hate you.”
“Come on, Sevgilim, you don’t mean that. I’m sorry.”
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“Let’s see how you make it up to me first.” She completely pulled away
from him with reluctance he didn’t miss and then she ran a hand through
her hair. “Never do this again, Ibrahim. I really won’t forgive you.”
“The number of times I’ve heard that phrase this month and last month is
starting to get scary.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.” He knew better than to think she wasn’t. “What do you want me
to do to fix it right now?”
“I’ve been near celibate for almost a month now with nothing but my toys
while you’ve been here with Mrs Fahad so you can start by fixing that,
Serkan. The orgasm I just had was nice but I’m gonna need more than
that.” She then shook her head. “No, we need to go down first because I
should have hit you when I realised we came up to this place instead of
going home.”
“It’s not my fault things escalated in the elevator and we couldn’t stop on
the eight floor.”
Her eyes blazed once more. “Serkan –”
“I love you. And I’m sorry.”
She folded her arms and looked away, as though she wasn’t stopping herself
from saying she loved him right back. When she spoke, her voice was
quieter. “After that, let’s go to our other home. Let’s celebrate there. We
have spent more than a decade together after all and I really don’t want to
deal with Ayra coming down to our place today simply because you’re there
and she’s too much of a simp to stay up here and be the trophy wife she
was supposed to be.”
He pulled her back to him and kissed her with gentleness that meant for
just her; no one else. Not even Ayra. Like always, Bella melted into him and
it took every sheer of self-restraint for Ibrahim to not back her up against
the wall and do every single thing he wanted. He broke the kiss and pulled
back.
“You want us to go to Costa Casa tonight.”
She held his gaze, silently daring him to say otherwise. “Why? You don’t
want to?”
“I didn’t say that.” The wheels in his head were moving. “You do realise
we’re all in tight spots, right? I don’t even know what I’m going to tell Ayra
because as much as I shouldn’t be mentioning her name around you or
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even talking about her, we did make those shitty promises that we’ll be
around for a while. I don’t know what to say now because I don’t think
telling her there’s a work emergency is going to cut it anymore. Also, we
don’t have a branch in Costa Casa.”
“We’re planning on branching there in the near future so you can come up
with one excuse or the other but we are going to the villa tonight and that’s
final. We’ve fed her with enough lies, especially that one of you calling your
mother during Eid when we both know you did nothing expect stay with
me so what’s one more lie? Ayra’s had you here with her while I sucked it
all up and played the role of the apologetic friend but I’m sick and tired of
all of it right now so she needs to suck it all up now. You’ll definitely come
up with something or you can ask Tobi but we’re going to the villa tonight.
I don’t want to hear anything else.”
The minute that followed was a little tense, both of them staring at each
other. Yielding, Ibrahim sighed and nodded. “Okay. We’ll go to Costa Casa
tonight. I’ll ask Tobi to come up with something and relay it to the others.
They might want to come along too.”
“I really don’t care. We all need it anyway. We need a break from all of this,
especially from the unnecessary need to be in the good books of two
women we really don’t care about.”
He smiled then. “We do. It’s been a heck of a year.”
There was a stab of various emotions in her chest then; anger, irritation,
jealousy, a little hatred, and envy. “One where you ate your cake and still
had it.”
His smile shrunk, his heart dropping. “Bella.”
She sighed, exhausted. “Let’s just go home, please. I really hate this place.”
He raised a brow. “Yet you picked out every furniture piece and had them
arranged the way you wanted.”
“Because I was going to be here from time to time and you said you wanted
to have a trace of me in every corner, especially in your room. Right now I
hate it all, Serkan, so let’s go home, please. There’s a lot to do and a lot of
positions I’d rather be in than to be standing here arguing with you.”
His heart did its little jump and every unholy thought crossed his mind;
mental images that sent even more blood rushing downwards. He laced her
fingers with his, a devilish smile tilting his lips upwards. “Let’s go home
then.”
“And we’ll leave for the villa when we’re done.”
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He unlocked the door and pulled it open, his smile now a smirk. “Let’s
hope you can walk by then.”
She finally smiled. “I’m not hoping for anything of that sort. My toys have
been overused so I need you to wreck me in every way possible.”
He laughed in a way he’d never done with Ayra. “I’ll do that, I promise.”
They stepped out of the apartment. “I love you, Bella.”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder as the door closed behind them. “I
love you too, Ibrahim. I’m still mad at you though.”
“Let’s get it out of your system then.”
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
Inside the apartment they’d just left, Ayra stayed still until the door
slammed shut and the lock automatically clicked in place. With her back
against the wall, she slid to the ground, her hands still clamped over her
mouth while tears continued to stream down both sides of her face. In her
chest, where her heart should be, was a hollow space with way too many
pieces of the organ she’d given to him on a golden platter since she’d been
thirteen.
In the foyer, the camera kept recording, down to its final bar.
♣
Before her dream of being Mrs Fahad became a reality, Ayra used to tell
anyone who asked what her relationship deal breakers were that cheating
was at the very top of her list.
“It’s disgusting.” She used to say. “I can’t stay with someone who cheats. As soon as I
find out that he’s seeing someone else, whether I’m close to her or not, I’m out. It’s just so
disgusting. Like, why would you cheat when you can just leave me and go with the other
woman?”
In those moments, Ibtihaj – who always sat beside or opposite her – would
nod in agreement and say “Exactly.”
However, as she sat in the middle of the barely lit living room long after
every mosque in Aomi had prayed Isha, Ayra realised leaving a relationship
once she caught the man she loved – and married – cheating was easier said
than done. It wasn’t as though she didn’t want to stand by her words; no, it
wasn’t that at all.
It was that in the hours that followed the scene that had played out in the
foyer, Ayra had reached some painfully humbling realisations. Each
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revelation shattered her more than the last one did until there was barely
any part of her left.
First, when she removed everything regarding Ibrahim and the Fahads from
every part of her life, she had no idea who she was; what her true character
was, what she actually liked, what she wanted to do with her
life…Everything. She had no idea.
She’d spent a near decade building everything around him, even when she
didn’t know she was doing so. The things she was so sure she loved were
things that complimented everything he liked and all she’d ever wanted to
do with her life was be his wife. She’d built everything around him and now
that those things were crashing down, she didn’t know what part was
actually her and if she walked out of the house, she’d leaving with way too
pieces she’ll have to sieve through to figure out how to build herself back
up.
Secondly, when she considered everything that had happened in most of
her life, she had no idea how to stand on her two feet. This situation wasn’t
any different. When she’d finished crying hours earlier, the first thing she’d
thought of was calling Ibtihaj and she was already going through with it
when an unfamiliar voice in her head asked ‘What is Ibty actually going to do,
Leilani?’.
It’d felt as though ice-cold water had been poured over her head and when
her mind began to reel, she realised in more than the last decade, someone
fought for her once an unpleasant situation arose.
If she had a bad day at school where someone was mean, she turned to her
parents and when Ibtihaj came along, she began to turn to Ibtihaj because
she knew her best friend would have the right words and would scare
everyone away. Even now that she was married, she’d turned to Ibtihaj a lot
and every time she and Ibrahim had to iron things out, Ibtihaj played a
major role in the background.
Realising she didn’t know who she really was and that she wasn’t
independent in any way felt as though she kept being shot even when she
was already laying on the floor in the pool of her blood.
The last realisation she was still mulling over as it hurt more than the others
was that she’d been played in the worst ways by the man she loved and his
best friends who she’d been so happy to open the doors of her heart to. It
was extremely difficult to believe that the entire year had been nothing but a
lie. While there was a part of her that wanted to know exactly what they’d
done with her life, she was terrified to figure it all out because she had no
idea what she’d find or how deep all of it ran.
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The messages she’d received shortly after Bella and Ibrahim left already
made her realise the pattern that came each time they had to make
spontaneous trips for “work”. Someone always texted first – mostly
Ibrahim – and then the others would follow suit, apologising over and over
for having to leave without any prior notice.
This time, just as Bella had suggested, Tobi texted her first, saying they had
to leave for Costa Casa because there were some lands they had to check
out. Lands, according to him, that’ll hold their Costa Casa branch when
they finally got everything sorted.
Ibrahim’s text had followed in which he apologised like he always did;
sweetly, with promises to make it up to her laced between the words. Bella’s
text, for the first time, seemed robotic and she kept her apology short
which told Ayra all she needed to know; that Bella meant nothing she sent.
Anneth, Jalal, and Nathaniel had similar texts, each one seeming so genuine
while being so, so fake.
She’d cried when the pattern made sense in her sense and she’d had to stop
herself from tracing it back to when it all began because she knew it would
take her back to when the engagement was still new.
The final nail in the coffin, for her, was realising the camera had recorded
everything once she removed it from its spot. Finding it dead when she
brought it down told her it’d been running all along and throughout the
time it charged, two sides of her clashed; the part that prayed that it didn’t
record anything so she could somehow hold onto the shrinking hope that
everything was a bad nightmare and the part that hoped everything was
caught on the device so she could see the two people she thought she
actually knew.
The video – which was longer than any video she’d made in her entire life –
was securely stored in the camcorder’s storage and watching it all had her
crying again. When she eventually moved the footage to a flash drive, she
connected it to the TV and watched the video over and over again until her
tears stopped flowing and she knew the exact minute and second the door
went open and Ibrahim stumbled into the apartment with Bella.
That was where she still was and the TV was the only thing that lit up the
wide space alongside the light from the upper floor. As she watched
everything play out one more time, Ayra felt the tears return and she cursed
it all, including her hormones as her period had come after Maghrib with
the worst cramps she’d ever had.
She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her hands, letting
the tears flow as small sobs wrecked her whole. Her chest was hollower
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than it had been that afternoon and all that was in her mind was a single
question: What she was going to do and where would she go from there?
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27
Costa Casa, Atlantica
The island which held the Atlantican state of Costa Casa was divided into
five; four districts and a capital. The four districts, like the other states of
the country, were named after the cardinal points; Northern Costa Casa,
Southern Costa Casa, Eastern Costa Casa, and Western Costa Casa. The
island’s capital, Reito, sat in the middle of it all.
Every district had its beautiful beaches and resorts which made the island
the most visited by nationals and tourists alike as it was the tropical heaven
of Atlantica. It had beautiful residential properties too, such as the gated
compound on the edge of the northern district which held four luxuriously
built and furnished bungalows; a gated property that only a few people
knew belonged to The Hexad Squad.
Surrounded by tall trees that provided natural privacy beyond the stone
fence and nestled nicely on a highland which gave it stunning views of the
Atlantic Ocean, the property was one of Costa Casa’s hottest. Tobi had
been the one to close the deal for the squad back in 2014 after the company
had kicked off and they realised they needed a place to unwind each time
the opportunity presented itself; times when they didn’t want to leave the
country.
Two bungalows in the compound belonged to a pair; the farthest for Bella
and Ibrahim, and the one in the middle for Anneth and Nathaniel. The two
bungalows a little far from the gates belonged to Jalal and Tobi respectfully.
The four bungalows had the same floor plan; a living room with a lot of
space, an Italian styled kitchen with a breakfast nook that served as the
eating area, two bedrooms, and a sundeck with loungers and hammock
seats. The exterior was the same too; stone walls coming together with
wood and glass to create masterpieces. The property had a central pool and
one addition from the squad was the round gazebo they used for grill
dinners and game nights. They sometimes watched movies there too. The
interior of each bungalow, though, couldn’t be more different from the
other as it was done to fit each owner; colours coming together alongside
furniture pieces to make each house a home away from home.
The sun rising over the island was what woke Bella up from a blissfully
deep sleep as the full length windows were uncovered, both she and
Ibrahim forgetting to pull the curtains back together before they’d finally
given into sleep hours earlier. When her eyes adjusted to the rays that shone
into the room, she sighed and rolled over, meeting Ibrahim’s side empty
and cold.
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She frowned slightly and sat up, an ache between her legs from all their
rendezvous straight from Aomi until they slept. Goosebumps broke out
briefly on her skin as the cool air hit her bare body. She looked around,
waiting to hear the sound of the shower running but she heard nothing.
“Serkan?”
Silence was all she got in response and her attention moved to the
nightstand when his phone beeped, the screen lighting up with a new
message. She stretched and picked the device up, unlocking it quite easily. A
brow rose naturally when she saw the message was from Ayra.
Ayra A.: Hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry I’m just texting back now. I
wasn’t feeling so good yesterday but I’m fine now. I hope you arrived
safely and I hope you take it easy on yourself. Say hi to the others for
me, please. I’ll text them later In Shaa Allah. I love you!
Rolling her eyes, Bella put the phone to sleep and returned it to the
nightstand. Pushing the duvet back, she put her feet on her cool floor and
pushed herself off the bed. Not bothering to put on a shirt or anything, she
opened the door and walked out of the room. The heavenly mix of food
aromas hit her nose immediately and with a small smile that came naturally,
she made her way to the kitchen.
Ibrahim was in nothing but dark blue sweatpants with his back turned
towards the door where she stood as he set the breakfast nook, putting the
served dishes in perfect spots. Draped on her usual chair was one of his
shirts and she knew even if she ended up putting it on, it’ll come off while
they were eating or even right after. After all, there was something about
coming to this very home that always made them insatiable.
Well aware that she’d moved from the door to stand right behind him,
Ibrahim put the cutlery for both of them down and then faced her, his
smile soft and lovely while his heart did that its usual little jump each time it
came to her. It was natural for him to pull her close. “I was hoping you’d be
asleep for a little longer.”
She smiled a little wider. “Why?”
“I haven’t gotten dessert ready yet. I was hoping to make sugar cookies but
I guess we can settle for something else. After all, there’s ice cream in the
fridge and we both know the way I like it.”
Anticipating what would come when he got the tub of ice-cream out of the
fridge, she pushed herself to her toes and kissed him hard; their way of
saying good morning once there was no need for them to pretend as
though they hadn’t been together for years. Ibrahim kept a steady arm
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around her waist while the other moved to cup the back of her neck as he
moved his head sideways so he could deepen the kiss, almost feral when
she returned his dominance with hers.
It was way too easy to forget about the meal he’d prepared – from chicken
dumplings to her favourite potato salad – and back her up against the
nearest counter while her hands moved to push down the band of his
trousers. Being buried deep inside of her a minute later, like always, felt like
home and he savoured it all; his face buried in its favourite spot in the
crook of her neck.
Her eyes rolled back when he moved and she spoke with her hands in his
hair. “Your wife texted, finally. It’s quite unlike her.”
His pace didn’t slow; it picked up instead. “And what did she say?”
It took everything in her to stay focused while he satisfied her every
morning craving. “Something about being a little down or…Serkan.”
He kept his eyes on her face, finding the usual satisfaction that came with
watching her unravel; every part of her solely at his mercy. “Did you give
her a reply?”
Her glare should have sent him to the next grave. “Not today. I’m not
texting her until we get back.”
He grabbed her chin, a little rough. “That’s fine. I’ll text her later.”
Her nails dug into his scalp as she felt the pressure start to build. “You need
to make up for her kinda ruining my morning.”
He grinned, perfect dentition on full display. “Okay.”
He gave her everything she wanted and the climax had her milking him dry
which pushed him to near insanity. When they managed to catch their
breaths, he kissed her softly. “Let’s clean up and eat.”
“I think we should have dessert first. There is ice-cream in the fridge after
all.”
His laugh was deep and so velvety that her toes curled, her smile a natural
reaction. He kissed her again. “You’re not going to kill me, Bella.”
“I can’t do that, Serkan. I love you.”
He kissed her once more, taking his sweetest time. “And I love you too.”
♣
Aomi, Atlantica
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Ayra stepped out of the apartment at noon when her mind stopped being
numb and little pieces had fallen into place. Her head throbbed, a side
effect of the sleep she’d barely gotten, but she ignored it as she took the
elevator down to the lobby.
She murmured greetings at those she knew in the time she’d stayed in the
residential area and if anyone found it weird that her eyes were swollen with
dark circles underneath while her face was flushed, they said nothing and
she was insanely grateful.
Going out through the main doors, she didn’t stop until she was on the
other side of the tarred road. She then turned around and stared at the
towering structure of The Oasis, remembering how amazed she and Ibtihaj
had been – like every other citizen of the country – when the property
became open to the public.
She then recalled how Ibrahim had told her they’d been staying in The
Oasis once they were married and she nearly laughed humourlessly now
that it all made sense to her.
“Bella and her lover moved recently,” He told her back then, right there by the
pool in his parents’ home. “And they’ve had nothing but good reviews so I got us an
apartment at The Oasis. We’ll be staying there when we get married In Shaa Allah.”
And the previous day, Bella had called the apartment on the 8th floor
“home”; not for her (Bella) and the Serkan she’d introduced to Ayra in
December but for her and the Serkan who was Ibrahim.
Swallowing the bitter lump in her throat while her hands were painfully
balled into fists, Ayra crossed the road and walked back in. The elevator
carriage was already on the lobby floor so she got in and pressed the eighth
floor button. Once she got there, she walked all the way to Unit 8C and
stared at the closed door, recalling how months back Bella had opened up
with a smile on her face and ushered her in, saying welcome in Italian.
Thinking back now, Ayra realised there was more Bella said that day while
she said welcome and she’d never wished so badly that she understood the
language so she could know everything Bella said. Her line of sight moved
to the keypad by the side and she thought about how the other members of
the squad had come in, knowing the passcode; something she never even
bothered to wonder why she didn’t know it too since she lived in the same
apartment building and could check up on Bella if there was any need to.
She then recalled how Ibrahim had been against her idea of making changes
to their own apartment, stating that he didn’t want white walls and black
accessories and “let Serkan and Bella deal with that alone”. Yet, he’d called
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the apartment he claimed to not like “home” an exact day before and he’d
come down to it before leaving for Costa Casa to the villa Ayra knew
nothing about.
As she tightened her fists, causing her nails to dig into her palms, Ayra
recalled the story Bella had shared; she and Serkan being together for more
than a decade and going all the way to Leicester where Ayra knew they’d all
schooled together, “Serkan’s” parents disapproving of their relationship and
wanting him to get married to someone else, both of them living their best
lives without actually committing and then the sex that was a big bonus.
Replaying the conversation in her head sprung up way too many questions
and when it felt like her head was ready to split in two, Ayra forced herself
to walk away. The elevator ride up was short and it was the first time she
helped herself into the apartment she’d called home while looking at it with
a different eye; the rose coloured lens of love had been painfully pulled off
after all.
The foyer no longer seemed welcoming and beautiful. It felt tainted; used
and all she could see as she stared at the floating shelf was Bella clinging
onto Ibrahim as she came undone on his hand with his fingers buried deep
inside of her. All Ayra could see was the gentle way Ibrahim had held Bella
and the way he’d stared at her; a way she couldn’t remember ever being
stared at by him, not so sincerely at least. It said a lot because there was
nothing that ever gave it away that the looks and expressions he gave her
(Ayra) were ever fake.
She turned away from the floating shelf and looked up at the corner where
the camera had been. The thought of installing a CCTV camera popped up
from nowhere and she did nothing to push it away. Keeping the thought in
mind, she walked deeper into the house.
Everything, now that she knew Bella was the one who’d picked it all,
seemed very ugly and the hatred that hit her was so strong that it scared her
to death because she’d never hated something that much. The beige walls
no longer offered warmth and the white sofas now seemed too bright. The
painting above the TV made Ayra realise that they never really got around
picking out a photo from their wedding album to get framed and hung up.
In fact, now that she thought of it, they’d only looked at the album together
twice. Each time she went through it in order to relive the memories, she
was on her own and he was either at the office, with Bella downstairs, or
they were all out of the country.
She laughed dryly despite the tears that prickled her eyes. “Ayra, you’ve
been the biggest fool.”
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And it hurt like hell.
The kitchen was spotlessly clean; something she’d ensured the previous
night before heading up. She couldn’t bring herself to hate it and she had
no idea why. She thought about how excited she’d been to make dishes for
him, to surprise him, and yet she’d been the one who’d been so surprised
that her heart and mind were no longer the same.
Fate, she decided then and there, worked in very twisted ways.
She left the kitchen and headed up. The family lounge, for the first time,
seemed too small and too choked up and she hated the voile curtains that
swayed. She went to the room he’d called Ayra’s space and she hated it all
as she saw it for what it was; a den to keep her in and preoccupied while he
went ahead to do everything else.
Her room no longer seemed stunning and the only thing she couldn’t bring
herself to dislike was the painting on the wall which was of her, covered
with a Leilani in full bloom. Not knowing why, she moved forward and
climbed the bed to take a very close look at it. The strokes had been done
with precision and she realised then she never asked who the artist was. For
the first time, she realised there was a little signature in the bottom left
corner and her heart – in its hole – sunk even deeper as she read out what
was spelt in the cursive calligraphy in red paint that matched the flower.
“S.F.” She had to squint a little. “Serkan Fahad.”
Another memory hit, clashing with the new discovery; her birthday the
previous month and what he’d said after she’d twirled in front of him,
wearing the baby pink dress he’d gotten.
“I’m no painter but God knows if I could create masterpieces with the strokes of brushes
against canvas, I’d have captured the radiance and happiness coming off you in waves.”
She nearly fell as she hurriedly got off the bed, catching the foot of the
bedframe just in time to stop herself from toppling forward. She ran back
down, straight to the living room, and she pulled one of the side stools
towards the wall with the painting. In the bottom left corner of that
painting was the same signature and the name underneath; S.F. Serkan
Fahad.
Ayra shook her head, too deep in disbelief. “No…No.”
She got off the stool and went to the foyer. The two mini paintings on the
floating shelves had the same signatures and it hurt…All of it hurt; like little
knives that kept cutting every part of her that was visible. Recalling there
was a painting in his room, she went there. Like the first time she stepped
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into it, she was hit with the fact that it was his room. It was all of him and
there was only very little of her in it. She then remembered what Bella said;
that she’d done work in here because he wanted to have traces of her in the
apartment.
Not wanting to dwell on it for her own sake, she took small steps in and
went straight to the sitting area, focusing on the painting on the wall. Unlike
the first time she’d seen the painting, it was no longer hard to make out
who it was. It was a painting of Isabella Valentino; done in a way to confuse
people who didn’t know her as well as he and the other members of the
squad did. And right there in the bottom left corner was his signature yet
again: S.F. Serkan Fahad.
“Don’t think too hard about who it is.” Ibrahim had said with his chin on her
shoulder and his mouth by her ear the first time she and Ibtihaj had come
to tour the apartment. “I just saw it and I liked it. Helen also said it fit the theme of
the room.”
Ayra, in so much pain, realised there was no way Helen was not in too on
whatever scheme had played out. She – Ayra – had actually loved the
painting because Ibrahim loved it and each time she saw him glance
towards it, she never imagined that he was thinking about Bella. That he
was looking right at Bella.
Her mind went back to Bella’s house. The paintings in the study and then
all of the pictures, especially in the one in the living room which had made
her feel as though Serkan was familiar with his knee length shorts, his extra
loose top and his hair that had been captured being ruffled by the wind.
Ayra had to bring a hand up to her mouth to muffle the sound of her
choking on a sob. She’d assumed it was because she’d seen the “Serkan” on
the day of her and Ibrahim’s Nikkah, having absolutely no idea that she’d
been staring at Ibrahim himself.
“This photo was taken in Cape Town.” Bella had said and Ayra wondered how
the pieces only came together in that moment.
The Fahads had been the ones who brought together South Africa and
Atlantica in unimaginable ways and she knew – like everyone else – that
they had a number of properties in the country, especially in Cape Town.
She thought she couldn’t feel even more pain but every new thing she
learned proved her wrong as she broke further and further; in ways she’d
never ever done before while being surrounded by things that now felt so
unfamiliar.
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She let her body move on its own accord, towards his walk in closet. The
lights blinded her momentarily when she switched them on and when her
eyes adjusted, she moved and went through each storage space, not feeling
even an ounce of guilt. His perfume drawer had her pausing. Staring at his
row of Tom Fords made her really think once again, more pieces snapping
into place and leaving her in even more pain.
She remembered hugging Bella the first time she and Ibtihaj met the squad
and saying “You scent exactly like Ibrahim.”
They – the squad – had laughed and then Anneth had said Bella was the
biggest perfume thief and “I think Ibrahim’s tired of changing his perfumes because
of her so they’ve stuck this one. We all have actually.”
As she stared at the perfume bottles, she realised – quite belatedly – that no
one else in the squad used Tom Ford’s Oud Wood; only Ibrahim and Bella,
despite Anneth saying then that they’d all stuck to it. Only Ibrahim and
Bella used the perfume and then he’d gotten it for her as part of his
wedding gifts to her and also as a part of her birthday present.
She took a shaky step back and tripped on the hem of her kimono, going
straight to the floor as a painfully prickly sensation she couldn’t recognise
crept towards her throat from her chest. She recalled a story she’d come
across online with Ibtihaj; a story of a man who got his wife bottles of a
particular perfume which she loved using until she came across a message
on his phone where he told his lover that having his wife spraying the
perfume in the house was nice because it reminded him of her (the lover),
especially when he and his wife had to get intimate.
The painfully prickly sensation slipped past Ayra’s lips as an eerie scream.
She moved to her knees and held her head in her hands, shaking it from left
to right as more and more things came crashing down. Each time he’d
hugged her, he’d held her tight and more than once he’d said “You always
scent like home, Ayra. You have no idea just how much you do.”
And those times, she’d smiled, glad she made him feel safe while having no
idea that she wasn’t the home he was referring to. His home had always
been two floors below and he’d gone there time and time again, even when
it was late and she wanted them to do something such as watching a movie
together or even running a home spa session.
Ayra kept screaming, feeling too much at once and breaking in way too
many ways. All of it, from the very start, had been a lie and there was no
more denying the truth that was as clear as day.
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She was his wife in the public’s eye and on paper but in real life? She was
the other woman. She’d always been the other woman. In real life, there
was only one Mrs Fahad and it wasn’t her.
It was Bella.
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28
Ayra was seated at the dining table in the kitchen when the clock struck
midnight and the calendar date moved from Thursday, August 12th to
Friday, August 13th. It had only been a full day since Bella and Ibrahim left
but with the discoveries Ayra had made and with the emotional numbness
she felt, it felt as though it had been years.
Her eyes were still a little swollen and the dark circles underneath were even
more prominent. She’d only bathed because of the blood she was losing
and her hair had never been so messy; curls tangled slightly as she’d been so
unmotivated to even run a wide toothed comb through them. The
nightdress she wore was long, reaching her ankles with sleeves that stopped
at her elbows. For the first time in so long, her lips were dry and were on
their way to being chapped.
In front of her, on the top of the table, was her laptop. Displayed on the
screen were minimised browser windows, all of them displaying every single
social media page – from Instagram all the way to LinkedIn – of Serkan
Yilmaz; the man Bella had introduced as her lover.
The longer she stared at the displayed pages, the more Ayra wondered if
things would have gotten this far had she not trusted Bella and the others
so blindly. If she’d gone ahead back then to try to find him out online, it
would have told her that there were things that didn’t quite add up.
Serkan Yilmaz was a real person and he was the same man Ayra had seen
on the day of her and Ibrahim’s Nikkah; the same man who winked at Bella
before disappearing. Unlike all she thought and all she was told, Serkan
Yilmaz was a married man with two daughters he clearly loved more than
anything.
Like Bella had said, he was Turkish but he wasn’t based there and neither
was his family – both nuclear and extended. They were all based in Europe
and unlike what Bella said the first time Ayra went down to the apartment
on the eighth floor, Serkan Yilmaz was not a software developer neither did
he like tech as much as the squad did. He’d tweeted about it so many times
because his wife – Aliana – was into coding.
Serkan Yilmaz was into banking and finance and he was very accomplished
in that area. He dabbled in acting too, getting little roles as a way to unwind.
It told Ayra all she needed to know as to how he’d been able to step into
the shoes of the real Serkan and play it out really well based on the very
little she knew.
Taking in all that was opened, Ayra closed most of the windows and
maximised Serkan Yilmaz’s Instagram page. She scrolled down, to a photo
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that had been taken in May 2019; mere months before the first time
Ibrahim claimed to have stumbled upon her picture on the same social
media platform.
In that particular post, Serkan, his wife – Aliana, and the entire Hexad
squad stood with their arms around each other’s shoulders and wide smiles
on their faces. Bella stood between her two Serkans: the real Serkan who
was Ibrahim and the Serkan that played the role of her lover perfectly well,
fooling both Ayra and Ibtihaj.
Ayra snipped the photo with her laptop’s snipping tool and then uploaded
the saved photo to her Google drive, placing it in the same folder that now
held the footage from the foyer and pictures of every other discovery she’d
made. Going through all the posts once again, she closed Serkan Yilmaz’s
page and pulled up Bella’s and Ibrahim’s; putting them side by side and
scrolling through both simultaneously. In the mental puzzle sheet that was
spread out in her head, more pieces fell into place.
Side by side, Ibrahim and Bella’s posts told a story of people who’d been
together for a very long time; pictures complimenting each other in a way
that wouldn’t be noticeable if the person scrolling through didn’t have both
pages open side by side the way Ayra did. She couldn’t help but smile
bitterly as she saw how she’d liked each and every post on both pages,
oblivious like most people in the world to both Ibrahim and Bella telling
everyone codedly that they were together.
Her tear glands were dry, otherwise she would have cried again as she
reached the bottom of both pages and restarted the scrolling process, seeing
everything in a brand new light. She’d stopped assuming there was no more