Accepting You

Chapter Thirty Nine

⚠️ This chapter contains kissing. If you wish to skip that part, these emojis > ⚠️😚 < will be placed before and after the paragraph depicting a kiss (sandwiching it). ⚠️

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Yusuf folded the cuffs of his shirt.

His firm had acted for a director who had set up a screening of a film that wouldn't hit cinemas for another five months. 

Everyone who worked at the firm was invited, regardless of their job title. The firm's new roof terrace would be decked out to match the event's exclusive vibe, and the partners had ordered everyone to dress to impress.

He and Asiya were still fighting, and while Yusuf was worried about their periods of silence becoming permanent, no one at his firm would suspect a thing. 

Yusuf and Asiya were both good at putting on a show.

"I'm ready," Asiya announced as she stepped out of their bedroom.

Time stalled as Yusuf's locked his gaze on Asiya. 

She was wearing a pistachio green satin gown. A piece of fabric wrapped across the dress just below her torso before it dropped and trailed behind her feet.

Yusuf's feelings swirled together as he studied everything about Asiya. The matching scarf she had wrapped around her hair, her graceful fingers holding a silver clutch, and the way her hips subtly swayed under her dress as she moved towards him and her face.

Yusuf felt like a spoilt child. 

He didn't want to go to the social anymore. 

He didn't want people to see Asiya, not when she had spent most of the weekend hiding from him. He didn't want her mingling and talking to other people when she had barely spoken to him. 

Yusuf didn't want to share her, especially when he didn't have full access to her.

"The taxi's outside. Shall we go?" Asiya asked.

Yusuf nodded like he was mute.

Yusuf kept stealing glances at Asiya throughout their journey. He wanted nothing more than to touch her, to place his hand on hers, and stroke apologies over her skin.

No one at his firm was worthy of an introduction to her, and they would all be in his way. He and Asiya needed to talk, and they couldn't at the social.

Once they had exited the taxi, Yusuf hooked his arm through Asiya's and dragged her into a cloakroom in the office, locking the door behind them.

"Yusuf!" Asiya hissed. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"

Yusuf squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't concentrate. He could barely answer her. 

Asiya's usually soft, high-pitched voice sounded alluring to him, as though she had coated her vocal cords in rich honey, and her words plunged Yusuf into a dizzy haze.

"Yusuf." Asiya clicked her fingers, bringing him back. "Yusuf, what's the matter? Let's go. What if someone wants their coat?"

"No one will know we're here, and the movie will have started by now. Everyone will be occupied," Yusuf whispered.

"Okay...so what are we doing here?" Asiya asked.

"We need to talk, and I don't want to wait any longer to do that," he replied.

"Asiya. I miss you," Yusuf whined. 

Can't she hear it? 

How desperate he sounded. How his voice had deepened and tangled itself with something else. "I hate fighting with you."