Delving Deeper

[SIX]

"And there is the type of man who gives his life to earn the pleasure of Allah: And Allah is full of kindness to His devotees."

-The Qur'an, 2:207

•~•

NUR

You know there are times in our life that we sink so deep into melancholy, that finding our way up is almost impossible. I hate those days.

Today, it seems, is one of those days. Nothing seems to make sense.

Ahyan says that he's going to get the keys from his brother, since his car is with the mechanic. I just want to go home, so I stay silent. Waiting for him.

After a minute, my patience wears off and I step out of his room. I'm greeted with a masculine scent that seems to be everywhere in this house.

There's something vaguely familiar about the hallway but I ignore my feelings for once and keep moving.

I stop breathing altogether as I reach the all-too-familiar living room.

I'm in Uncle Arish's house. Brother Yusuf's house. The house that I grew up playing in while my 'cool' brothers ignored me.

I don't know whether to laugh in relief or bang my head against one of the walls in confusion.

What is Ahyan doing in this house? And when he said 'I'm going to get my brother's keys' did he mean Brother Yusuf? Is he his brother?

Oh my God! This is so confusing.

It seems someone has a LOT of explaining to do.

•~•

As soon as I hear footsteps, I peek out of my hiding place. It's Ahyan. I narrow my eyes in concentration, not believing what I'm about to do.

When I see him walking–to his room no doubt– I step out of hiding and shout out a war cry. Bewildered, Ahyan turns around to face me, but I don't give him the time for anything. I straight-away tackle him to the ground.

Taken by surprise, he lands on his back as soon as I push him by the shoulders. Landing on top of him, I grunt and pull myself up enough so that I'm in a sitting position. Ahyan makes a grab for my wrists, but I continue pounding my fists against his chest.

He mutters something incoherent under his breath.

"Whatever it is, bro," I say, my breathing uneven. "It can wait."

I know he's he holding back because, let's be honest, if he wanted, he could've hurled me across the room the minute I started this so-called-battle.

"Stop," he avers.

The finality in his voice makes me pause.

What am I doing anyway? Horrified, I jump off of him. I straighten my hijab and the rest of my clothes that were disarrayed from the . . . urm whatever that was.

Ahyan seems to be doing the same as he stands upright. But, unlike me, he brushes his shoulders with a dexterous flick of his hand like I was a mere speckle of dust, disrupting his precious time.

His head lifts, stark blue eyes flashing like lightning as he stares at him. For a moment, I want to run and hide under the carpet or behind the curtains. But, I catch the gleam in his eyes. His jaw clenches in what I now understand to be an effort to hide his smile.

God! Couldn't he have found another day to be amused!? I'm stuck between the dilemma of either punching him-damn him, he's making me feel like the energy I put into all that was nothing more than a kitten fight- or um . . . yeah, never mind that.

He crosses his arms across his chest. "What was that about, princess?" Amusement drips from every word that comes out of his mouth.

My chest rises as I suck in a huge breath of air. Talk about driving someone insane. One of these days I'm sure I'll be found in the mental asylum.

"Don't. Ever. Call. Me. That. Again."

He raises his hands up in mock surrender. "Sure," he says, all innocent. "Princess."

I close my eyes, hoping that once I open them again, he would've vanished. But, of course, being the nightmare that he is, he's right there. Smirking, now.

Patience. Perseverance. Pertinacity.

"How do you know Yusuf?"

Yeah, I know I didn't add brother. No biggie. Absolutely nothing intended.

His eyes darken, turning the shade of waves right before a storm eventuates. A step towards me. "How do you know him?"

Don't you dare crack a smile, Nur.

I shrug, acting nonchalant. "He's a friend."

Yeah. In my dreams. I always thought he and my brothers were so cool growing up and I just wanted to be with them all day long. Unfortunately, they always kicked me out.

So, yeah. Friends. Technically he is. He did give me chocolates once- when I was ten.

Ahyan doesn't seem to like my answer very much. He yet again takes a step towards me. "So, tell me, dear, how did you both get acquainted?"

His accent has picked up on Turkish English, somehow. It's just so adorable.

I don't realise I'm smiling until he scowls.

Busted.

"I suggest you daydream about my brother," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "after we're divorced."

Divorce.

That's one word I never thought I would hear.

I angle my head to the side. "You're going to divorce me?"

Wait wait wait, his brother!?

I open my mouth but he speaks before I can.

"That would be the wise choice, since we can't seem to stand each other, and," A sarcastic laugh. "You like my freaking brother."

My face heats in shame.

I don't necessarily like him. But he's a guy- a very good-looking one- and I'm a girl so I'm bound to feel something for him.

How does one explain that to someone?

"Anyway," he jiggles the keys between his fingers. "I'll drop you off to your place now."

Something clicks in my head.

"That's not necessary." I say, waving a hand in the air. "I live next door."

His jaw drops to the ground.

Well, I guess I married him without talking about even the most basic of things.

"I'll get going, then." I lift my hand in an awkward wave, trying to plaster a smile. "See you around."

He looks away, muttering something under his breath.

I turn around, striding towards my house.