WrongSufferedAtHands

23.

Being neglected by Hassan for one further month was like walking on burning rocks; it hurt, but it was worth it. She'd witness herself getting depleted in staring at him, not aware that she could get caught. She could become engrossed in ogling his flawless features or, on occasion, distracted by his enticing aroma as she walks by him. He would daze her, and she would suddenly recognize the effect he was having on her: he was tugging her toward himself without exerting any effort, and she was slipping from under her own grasp.

The threshold she was always willing to pass was in front of her as she stood there in the middle of the night, well comfortable with it. Her limbs were shivering, her fingers were numb, and she had a tight knot in her throat. With every second passing, she would pull her shawl over her shoulder; those seconds seemed to last for hours.

The door opened; she took a deep breath when she spotted Hassan standing there in an undershirt, his hair damp and pouring over his face, and a towel slung over his shoulder.

She saw a shift in his demeanor upon seeing her. He attempted to close the door on her face but Afiyah was quick enough to slip a hand between the doors, "You don't know how to welcome in a visitor, do you?"

"I don't welcome unwanted visitors."

Her spine tingled at the sound of his deep voice.

Her eyes threatened to wander down the exquisite bulge of his biceps, but she made an effort to keep a straight face and suppress a small smile. "Welcome me in, Hassan." she muttered. This time, her accent was sincere, and she looked directly into his eyes.

He gave her a commanding look before opening the door wide and stepping back silently after what felt like a minute.

Afiyah thanked him and moved past him inside the home. With no furniture moved from one side to the other, same wall paintings, and identical wall mirrors, the house looked to be unchanged from years earlier.

"Rather than wandering about my house, get to the point. What exactly do you want?"

She could hear the venom seeping from his tone. Afiyah admired how his voice had grown even graver than it had been previously.

She smiled despite her pulse pounding as she turned to face him and said, "Why this hatred, Hassan? I deserve to know why this hatred is directed at me."

Instead of looking directly into her eyes any longer, Hassan merely heaved, raising his broad shoulders as he cocked his head to the right.

"I'm oath to know where I lost that Hassan I once loved-"

"Do I come across as a joke to you? Do you not understand when I request you to stay in your lane?" his voice roared upon her skin.

"What is going on with you?" In an effort to find a familiar face, Afiyah drew nearer to him and looked him in the eyes.

"Nothing is happening to me; it's you who is going crazy. I'm sorry I ran into you on my path, but you're starting to irritate me." He heaved and his face seemed disappointed, "You're making me sick of this, Afiyah; I'm done with this."

"No." His stubble tickled her palms as she cupped his face and said, "You're not tired; you're just trying to get away from this and from us."

"What sort of us? There isn't an us." He took her hands away from his face and said, "Go home; I don't want to see you again."

When Afiyah's heart broke, the fractured pieces fell to the ground one by one like falling autumn leaves from a shaking the trees.

"I can't look at your face when all I remember is how you hurt me." He gritted.