YOURS, JANNAH

#FIFTY ONE

"What are you doing out here alone?" Ammar asked struggling with his babban riga like he is not used to it, he clearly isn't.

Aisha didn't bother turning around afraid she might act stupid after looking at him. "Getting fresh air before it was rudely interrupted. Tell me what you are doing out here. Following me like a tail."

"What, is this the third time I'm crushing my funeral?" He enquirer sounding genuinely curious. This is their fifth encounter and all those times they both want to strangle themselves.

"Fifth actually." She supplied playing with her long nails, she needs to have them chipped off by a professional.

"Wow, that many?" He made his way around her and sat down at the other end of the stone bench outside the event hall where she's occupied.

Aisha didn't reply him, only kept quiet while expecting to hear those words she's been waiting for. He obviously doesn't know how she is related with the Garos so he wants to questions her about their relationship, she isn't ready to answer. The answers she would give will do nothing but rise more questions from his throat which she is sure she is going to supply answers to.

It was quiet for too long, she raised her head to find him staring at her looking confused. Instead of embarrassingly looking away or the likes of it, he continued watching her like a hawk. She frowned at him, her head bent low because she suddenly felt shy under his scrutiny. Why is he acting weird? He should ask the questions and get over with.

And the question came. "How are you related to the Garos? Who gave you the clothes?"

Aisha rolled her eyes at him, he must taunt her for the clothes she is wearing like the other Garo sisters. What is there about the outfit she is wearing? Oh, it is expensive worth half her month's pay. She didn't want to buy it but her stepmother reminded her more than three times that she's kept one piece for her. She didn't want to buy it but she had to which was why she bought it a week to the wedding.

"I am the bride's half sister." She dropped, flipping her legs around that refused to reach the floor while Ammar's lay there like a carpet.

"Half siblings? And you work as a maid in my house? Why? Are you going through some financial struggles?" He hauled the questions at the same time sounding confused by his own words.

"Yes, we are half siblings because my name is Aisha Hashem Garo. And for the nth time, I don't work in your house. I worked for your mother before but I now work for your sister-in-law. And why would I work if I am not going through some financial shit? You think I fancied wearing the maid's uniform and parading around with a mopper while you match all over it with your dirty boots?" Her words are soaked with sarcasm, swimming with lavish fulmination.

Ammar continued to frown like he's just being told he is not his mother's son, he looks that confused. What is there to be confused about? There is nothing he should be this perplexed about. She is Hashem Garo's daughter and the man is dead after making sure to be inundated in debts. She is now paying for what he's done, not that he was a bad father. He didn't readied her for this tough life.

"Wow. I mean I am surprised with this piece of information. Why have you never told me that?" He enquired looking like a guardian, someone her father entrusted in his arms. How presumptuous.

Aisha was speechless for a minute trying to think whether or not what he's said in meant to be in concern or mockery like they usually do. She watched him too with piercing scrutiny, trying to gauge out his reaction but she couldn't. The man can also lock away his emotions like his brother. Maybe it is a family thing that runs in their blood? But it is damn frustrating.