CONNECTED HEARTS

18: Heartbeat And Hijinks

Kaltoom's POV

I woke up shocked, blinking at the clock. "How did I sleep this much?" I muttered, massaging my stiff neck. It was almost 3 p.m., and I had been out since 11:15 a.m. Groaning, I rushed to the bathroom, performed ablution, and prayed the Zuhr I'd missed.

Afterward, I grabbed my phone and headed downstairs. Ammi and Khalid were in the living room, the TV on but neither of them paying attention. That's when I noticed Khalid's resemblance to Ammi. Funny... I'd never really paid attention before. Meanwhile, Farouk and I looked more like Dad, except for Ammi's eyes, which I'd inherited.

"As-salamu alaykum, guys!" I greeted, smiling before ducking into the kitchen as my stomach growled.

Ammi glanced at me. "There's couscous in the warmer."

I pouted dramatically, plopping onto the couch beside her. "Ammi, you know I don't like couscous."

Her eyes narrowed immediately. "Stop making that shagwaba face! When will you grow up? Is this how I'll get you married?"

Khalid burst out laughing, and I glared at him. He held up his hands in surrender, pretending to zip his lips.

"But Ammi, I'm starving, and I can't just swallow that food," I tried again.

She gave me the most unimpressed look ever. Clearly, she wasn't moved.

So I pulled out my secret weapon my phone. Quickly dialing, I put it on speaker. "Laila, mey kuka dafa (what did you guys cook)?"

"Oh my gosh, I'm coming over. Tell Mom to save my plate," I said excitedly and hung up before she could answer.

Ammi stared at me, completely done.

"Come on, Mother, you can't stop me," I said with a laugh, already standing.

Her lecture followed right after: "You may not understand this now, but wallahi you're shameless. That house might be your in-laws' soon, and here you are behaving like it's some random place!"

I looked at Khalid, who was heading out in Chanel pants and a designer tee. Honestly, he looked more like a fashion model than an architect. He smirked but tried to keep a straight face.

"Ammi, whatever. I'm hungry," I muttered, acting tired.

"Then cook something yourself," she shot back. "Allahumma yahdiiki," she added, shaking her head.

I was halfway to my room when she called me back. "Before you go, meet me in the kitchen. You need to deliver something to Muhammad's mom."

So I showered, slipped into a simple A-line gown with pockets, and tied a matching veil around my head. Headties weren't my thing, so the one on my bed stayed there. A quick spritz of Adyan's perfume, my absolute favorite lately and I was ready.

In the kitchen, Ammi handed me a fancy pink container filled with samosas and spring rolls, plus another matching one with shawarma wraps. I grabbed them quickly, trying not to trigger another lecture, and left.

Their house was only a few streets away. I honked at the giant gate, and Mallam Audu, the chauffeur, let me in. Laila came running out, hugging me tight and grabbing one of the nylons.

"You saved me! Khair was about to make me pack for her, she's leaving tonight," she said with relief.

"Oh, lucky you. I'm starving," I complained as we walked in.

"Why didn't you eat at home, Miss Picky Pants?" she teased.

"They made couscous," I deadpanned.

Laila rolled her eyes. "What's wrong with couscous? Adyan loves it."

I gave her a bored look. "Adyan isn't me."

We met Adyan's mom in the kitchen, and she was glowing as usual fair skin, sleek ponytail, kohl-lined eyes, and those dimples. That's exactly where Adyan and Laila got them from.

After catching up, Laila and I headed to Khairiya's room. She hugged me warmly before dragging me to her bed. Laila, of course, immediately started complaining about how messy it was.

Abu brought me food, and the aroma alone had me ready to cry. Rice, stew, chicken, salad heaven. I took one bite and gasped. "Layl! Who made this food? Don't lie to me."

"Mom, obviously," she said with a smirk. "That's why I'm in no rush to get married. I can keep eating her food."

I almost choked laughing, and Khairiya shook her head at her.

Soon Amani joined our call, teasing me endlessly for running away from couscous. "Mey kwadayi," she called me, making everyone laugh.

We were still joking when Laila suggested Skyping Adyan. He picked up, wearing a grey hoodie and sweatpants, looking annoyingly good. His smile was exactly like his mom's.

"So, you guys have decided to gang up on me?" he asked, but his eyes lingered on me just a little too long. My chest tightened instantly.

The call was full of laughter until a girl walked in. Caramel skin, Arabian gown, scarf neatly tied. Sara.

We exchanged greetings, but I couldn't shake the weird feeling. Laila clearly felt the same, because she blurted, "Yaya, kace mata ta tafi," with a pout, making everyone laugh.

Sara left smiling, but my mood was off. Then Laila smirked. "Kal has something to ask you."

I wanted to die. Adyan's hazel eyes fixed on me, waiting.

"Uh... yeah, actually. Who is she? Like... who is she to you?"

He shrugged casually. "Just a friend. We share an apartment through my cousin. No worries, Mrs. Muhammad." He winked.

My soul left my body. The way he said "Mrs. Muhammad"? Unfair.

Laila squealed and hugged me. "Welcome to the family, Mrs. Muhammad!" Khairiya joined in too, and I was basically on fire from blushing.

Then a male voice popped up. Afdal. Their cousin. And the way he looked at Khairiya? Suspicious.

Laila introduced me as Adyan's "wife-to-be." My nerves skyrocketed, but Afdal smiled politely. "I've seen your pictures before. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Muhammad. Truly a beauty to behold."

I instantly moved away from the screen. Compliments were not my thing.

"No flirting with your sister-in-law!" Laila scolded him, making everyone laugh.

Adyan logged off, leaving Afdal to joke with the girls. Later, I pulled Laila aside. "So who's that guy?"

She teased me, of course, but finally explained. Their cousin, heir to Hamid Oil, half-Algerian, ridiculously good-looking, and apparently secretly seeing Khairiya.

"No wonder she's never had boyfriends around," I whispered, wide-eyed.

Laila nudged me. "Don't get distracted. My brother is hotter."

We laughed, and she shoved a chocolate bar into my mouth to shut me up.

The rest of the day flew by with shopping, helping Khairiya pack, salon trips, and snacking. On the way home, we blasted Ricky Rich's "Habibi" in the car, dancing like idiots while Khairiya filmed TikToks.

By the time I got home, prayed Isha, and slipped into my PJs, I was wiped but happy. Curling into bed, I replayed the day in my head, relief washing over me. Adyan and Sara? Nothing serious. Thank God.

Still... I couldn't shake the way he called me "Mrs. Muhammad." Maybe this was what love felt like.

With that thought, I drifted to sleep, already excited to talk to him online tomorrow.

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