Basma likes Fendi

5 | Bad Boys For Life

From here on you're still reading in Basma's POV. You'll be signified when Bashir's POV is about to be approached. Enjoy!

Once inside, I met one of her most trusted maids; Joy in the hallway.

"Good evening ma." She greets.

"How are you Joy?"

"I'm fine ma."

"That's good to hear."

"Ma, my madam is expecting you already. She's upstairs."

"Alright." I handed her a bundle of leftover cash from a transaction I had to handle some hours ago before ascending the staircase.

She jumped, squealing before kneeling to the ground and hugging my legs, thanking me with tears running down her eyes.

I don't understand. It was just 10k.

At the top of the stairs a boy bumps into me and falls back, connecting the back of his head to the tiled floor.

"Baby I'm sorry. Are you ok?" I pulled him up from the floor and handed him a bar of chocolate from my bag.

"Yes. Thank you."

He was probably just nine—with this height and voice.

"You're welcome. What's your name?" I inquired as I massaged the back of his hand and elbow.

"That's none of your business!"

A woman from the right wing of the house appears from one of the numerous rooms, glaring at me intensely.

Bushy eyebrows, pointy nose, stout and light skinned was Yusra's co-wife. She was beautiful in her own right and would've looked better if she smiled consistently.

She marched slowly to where I was in her Ferragamo slipper's with a hideous frown that sat on her face. I could tell she had a great sense of style because of the dress she was wearing. It was a Firdausi golden dress, a first, and last edition that came out last summer for a few celebrities in the country.

I wonder how she got it.

The sleeves alone had FG imprinted onto it like a signature from a celebrity himself. I wasn't one who supported body shaming but I found it disgusting that her sack of a belly hung low in a very disturbing way in the tight dress that clung to her body. I knew she felt beautiful in the dress with the way she took every step, walking.

But she looked pregnant!

I looked at her, taken aback by her rudeness but I didn't want to insult her to avoid causing a problem between Yusra and her husband.

"I was just helping him up."

"He doesn't need your help to stand up right." She sassed.

"Ok." I walked away to Yusra's side of the house.

Her eyes zeroed in on the Twix in his hands and she slaps his head, causing his head to yet again hit a hard surface; the wall.

He released a throaty yell before his tears followed.

I ran back immediately to aide his current state of turmoil but she pushed my hand away from him before I could touch him.

Is it even your business? I chastised myself but I was seriously in love with kids just that Allah hasn't gifted me with mine yet.

Yusra's words were finally making sense. I wasn't getting younger. Definitely time would come when I wouldn't be able to produce children. I'll give this marriage ideology a thought and see whether Bashir was really the one.