The Sky Between Us

Chapter Nine - Just a Taste

I did not in fact like treacle.

It was sticky and thick, and overly sweet, but my pride made me swallow both it and the sinking feeling that I wasn't made for this world. Of class, wealth and power. All the things this Dunya tried to lure you in with. 

Amir was far too perceptive though and realise that I was trying to stomach the sweet pie through a terse smile, he regarded me with a certain curiosity that was rare to see on this reserved man who showed nothing close to emotion.

"You don't have to eat it you know," he finally spoke breaking what I had convinced myself was a comfortable silence.

"What, no this- this is great," I almost choked on my food when he retorted.

"Lying is haram Khadijah," the way he said my name like I was a school child being scolded. He made me feel so lacklustre, unprepared: stupid. 

"Not if it's for the betterment of others," I added half-heartedly finally putting my fork down and looking away from the treacle. From what I had gathered, treacle wasn't even that fancy, it was just the sweet version of gravy in my eyes. 

"That's for dire situations, not for dessert," and because I am a complete and utter idiot, I began to laugh. I did not miss the sharp glances in my direction as my laugh was far from the elegance quota of this place, it was half a snort, and Amir didn't look amused.

"I- I-" between laughs, I was completely deranged to all the other guests at the restaurant but it's what I did when I was nervous beyond belief. I couldn't keep in all that pent-up cringe, I had to expel it somehow, "I can't believe you used dire and dessert in the same sentence, that's so funny,"

"No." he bristled, "No it's not."

"You're no fun," I half sulked, if he was going to treat me like a child, what was stopping me from acting like one?

I was that petty. 

"And the rest of it?" he finally spoke after dragging his eyes across my laughing face, causing me to stop mid-laugh and clear my throat, trying to compose myself as best as I could. 

"The rest of what?" I said dumbly as he gestured to the meal before me.

"The food? The steak and the fondant potatoes, where they at least good?" and though he didn't say it seemed like the words ' good enough for you ' were primed on his lips.

"Yes," I rushed out and then felt as though I had been a complete and utter nutcase, in some cases quite rude when Amir was just trying his best.

He must have noticed the flicker in my expression, my eyes cast downward and my lips pinched into a frown, I was so stupid.

So awful, I wasn't even trying, I was being horrible. And this was the man I had agreed to marry, the least I could do was act proper in his friend's restaurant. Not make a fool out of myself in this upper-class circle, in which I'm sure he knew more than a few people.

So with new resolve, I straightened my back, taking the napkin and dabbing the corner of my mouth with as much grace as any of the other women surrounding me.

He noticed the shift, and I noticed the slight quirk of his brow, arching in question.

I sighed, fighting the urge to shuffle the cutlery around just to avoid conversation, "I'm sorry,"

He seemed shocked like he hadn't expected those very words to ever fall from my mouth...ever.

"You're sorry?" he didn't ask for what, and it wasn't in a mean, or condescending tone, no rather it was laced with slight concern.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for saying you're the sickness of my heart. I was being dramatic, you've been nothing but," I searched for the correct word in the bank of my mind that had been infiltrated by all things English Literature since the start of my degree, "accommodating. And I've just made a fool of myself. I should have been nicer, better, more elegant even. You've taken me to a really nice, fancy restaurant, that your friend owns, you're bound to know people here and I've just embarrassed you and for that, I really am sorry," when I had finished there was a look in his eyes that was hard to place. But a part of me hoped I wasn't mistaken when I thought it was somewhere close to respect.

"It's ok Khadijah, I get this is all new to you. You don't know me much, and I don't know you. It will take us time to get to know each other, but you must understand I am not your enemy here. And if this doesn't work out, if you decide that you don't want to go through with this that choice is entirely in your hands,"

My heart shouldn't have sunk. Was this his way of saying that he was having second thoughts? That he wanted me to reject this proposal. Ya Allah, he probably already wanted to be rid of me.

"Oh," my mouth formed the sound and it was a pathetic one, sort of painful and it sparked something in him, a light of emotion I would never have expected in him, "So you don't think this will work?"

"What?" the word came from him faster than I had expected, "That's the opposite of what I am trying to say. I want to try, what made you think I wanted to end this?" he said it with so much conviction, there was no way I couldn't believe him.

"Really?"

"Yes really," though his tone was slightly exasperated it remained soft, "I'm not a man who says yes to things he doesn't want. Had I been against the marriage, I would have said so."

There was a pause like there was more he wanted to say, so I didn't say a thing, I wanted to know more. To pick apart that fortified brain of his.

To ask Allah, whether this was right.

I knew when I got home I would need to do a prayer of Istikhara when I got home. To settle all these confusions in my mind.

"Khadijah I want to marry you, I do," and he said it with such sincerity I didn't think it was real. This man couldn't be the Amir I had been talking to in the car, throwing jabs at him, without a modicum of interest in me. It seemed like it was a chore to even go anywhere with me.

"Really?" why did I sound so surprised? So broken, that even I was confused that anyone would want me. 

No one will ever stick around long enough to love you.

I pushed the cruel thought away. Not now, not here. 

Not, when I could have something, even if it was just a taste of it.

"Yes, really Khadijah. Ya Allah, is it so hard to believe? You said yourself, I'm trying, I'm putting effort into this. I don't put my time and energy into anything that I don't want to. I'm telling you now Khadijah Ansari, I want to make this work. I think Ama was right about you," and it was my turn to look surprised, "You challenge me. You'll be good for me."

And just those words, even though I was sure the intention I had inferred was not the true one, but the words, of me, and you in one sentence, of a slight possessive tone. It made my heart soar.

I had missed this feeling.

Of believing that someone could actually want to love all of this.

You are messed up Khadijah, no one will put up with you, so stop pretending someone will ever love you.

No.

"I want this to work too, I do Amir. I think you and me will be great for each other," I smiled softly pulling my lips into a wicked grin which he noticed and for a moment I thought I would be graced with one of his rare smiles, but still there was something pulling him back, so it was just the ghost of one, but I would take an apparition of something rather than nothing at all, "We challenge each other. We will push each other to the limits. I'll annoy you, you'll annoy me," and before I could stop myself I let a word slip out that I should never have said even if I didn't mean it in the way I was sure he heard it as, "And you're going to love it."