Turmoils- A Muslim Love Story

Chapter 31

The sun rose outside in a matter of minutes. Well, it did take hours but to me, it seemed like minutes. I spent the entire night staring at his face as he slept, unmoving.

I guess I overworked him. He didn't even stir in his sleep. I moved my head over the pillow and let his arm lie under my neck. Allah had really blessed him with good looks.

I sat up and tested my foot out. The ointment had worked significantly overnight and it didn't ache as much. I looked at my hand and the gash had filled with new but still raw skin. The burn on my elbow was still there so I had a bandage plastered over it.

I walked into the kitchen to make myself tea and coffee for my husband. Well, I would've made him some coffee if I had any. The only things I had that counted as breakfast items were eggs, bread and a jar of strawberry jam. Nevertheless, I did set the table and was suddenly reminded of how I'd made him such a nice, fancy breakfast the morning after our marriage and he'd refused to eat a single bite.

As I looked around the clean lounge and kitchen, I realized how much had changed.

He'd went from brooding Farhan to a sweeter Farhan.

I slipped into a chair when he walked out of the room, still sleepy. My mouth dropped open and a furious blush creeped upto my cheeks.

He was shirtless!

"You're up already? What time is it?" He asked, yawning and running a hand through his messy, bed hair.

I'd spent my fair share of time combing my fingers through them last night. Safe to say, I'd loved it. They were as soft as a waterfall. I also used my fingers to trace his facial features, which are quiet remarkable. I never liked spiky beard hair but even if he grew his the size of my adoptive father's lawn, he'd still look amazingly handsome.

"I-I-It's uh- I uh-" I stuttered, keeping one hand in front of my eyes to avoid seeing him like this.

"What? Don't you like this?" He stated and I could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

"Why don't you put something on first and then we'll talk," I suggested, my face as hot as a geezer. A minute longer and I'd have smoke coming out of the top of my head.

"Don't be shy. I am your husband you know," he chuckled before turning around and heading back inside.

I lowered my head and played with the cup.

Yeah right. A husband who hasn't even touched me since the day we got married.

He walked back out ten minutes later, dressed thankfully, and slipped into the chair across from me on the table. I slid his mug towards him and motioned to the things placed in front of him.

"Help yourself." I said.

He looked at me. "How's your foot? You didn't have to do all this. You should've woken me up."

I almost laughed at the contrast of what he'd said to me the day I actually was fit enough to make him a fancy breakfast.

"It's not like I can depend on you forever," I mumbled, sipping my tea. He heard me but didn't say anything.
"I'm just being a good host."

After he was done, he insisted on doing the dishes. I tried to protest but he wouldn't listen. I scowled. This wasn't going to work. He didn't look like he wanted to give it up. But I needed to be firm. Zara would show up and force him to fulfill all the promises he'd made to her and he'd crumble under pressure. I knew it.

I quickly stood up. "Farhan, let's stop this."

"Stop what?" He asked, his back to me as he washed the last plate and put it on the counter top to dry.