CONNECTED HEARTS

28: Jealousy unleashed

Adyan's POV

Yesterday was... exhausting but beautiful. I spent half the evening with my so-called fiancée. Yeah, I said it fiancée. I'm still wrapping my head around it myself. Since coming back from Niger, Dad wasted no time handing me the CEO position at Salman Group. Suddenly, I'm not just Adyan the son, or Adyan the golden boy,I'm Adyan the boss. It's heavy, wallahi. The pressure, the meetings, the endless files... sometimes I feel like I'm drowning. But Dad's been patient, guiding me without shoving. Slowly, I'm finding my footing. Alhamdulillah.

But between all the numbers, all the weight of responsibility, there's Kaltoom. My focus keeps snapping back to her like she's gravity itself. Somewhere between China and Maradi, she stopped being "just Laila's friend" and became the person I catch myself daydreaming about. She's wild, feisty, bratty,sometimes annoyingly so but it only makes her more addictive.

I already told her I'm in love. Said it with my chest. And I don't regret it. Humaira never made me feel like this. Kaltoom gets under my skin, shakes my ego, makes me laugh, makes me... softer. She's still processing, I can see it in her eyes, but I've made up my mind: I'm not letting go. That proposal in China wasn't just talk I'm serious. Marriage. Soon. But on her time.

So, I've been making small promises to myself: to show up for her, to call before bed, to bring her roses every other day. She doesn't need luxury or diamonds. She needs to know I'm there. And I intend to be.

⸻

While I was waiting for Laila the other day, life decided to throw a curveball,Humaira. Standing there like a ghost from a past I thought I'd buried. She waved, soft smile, polite as ever. I could've walked away, but my upbringing wouldn't let me. I said salaam, exchanged pleasantries. She told me her wedding was called off. No details, no drama. I respected that. But then she asked for my number, claiming she lost it.

I hesitated. And then I saw them.

Kaltoom and Laila, walking toward us. Kaltoom's expression... Allah. It was unreadable at first, then sharp, like a blade. Before I could think, I shoved Humaira's phone back and muttered, "Don't worry, I'll call you. I still have your number." Cold. Dismissive.

But Laila, of course, couldn't resist drama. She strolled up, sarcasm dripping: "Ohhh look who's here... the amazing Humaira." Her fake smile was dangerous. Humaira blinked, confused, asked if Laila knew me. And that was it. Laila pounced.

"Of course I do! I'm his sister. Don't you see the resemblance? And for your kind information, he's her fiancé. So, stay off."

Fiancé. She said it so loud, I swear half the street heard.

By then, Kaltoom had already turned on her heel and walked away, her movements sharp, angry. No words, just gone. And my chest tightened. She left because of Humaira. Because of me.

Laila dragged me to the car, still seething. "Stay away from that girl," she warned, eyes narrowed. "She's no good." I tuned her out; Laila never likes anyone. But my mind was stuck on Kaltoom, the way she walked off without a word. Was she upset? Jealous? Both?

The thought lit something in me. If she's jealous, that means she cares. And if she cares... maybe this thing between us is deeper than she admits.

⸻

Back home, silence. Laila avoided me, pretending she was the queen of the house. I didn't bite until she stormed into my room, hands on her hips, glaring like she owned the place.

I raised an eyebrow. She glared harder. I reached for my water bottle. She finally snapped.

"Ya Ady, wallahi I'm not talking to you again!"

I smirked. "Alhamdulillah. That's cause for celebration, right?"

Her jaw dropped. She stomped her foot. "This isn't funny! You still haven't called Kaltoom to apologize."

Apologize? For what? She's the one who left without letting me explain! I stared at Laila, baffled. She launched into a whole TED Talk about how men should treat their girlfriends, wagging her finger like some marriage counselor. I swear I was this close to tossing her out of my room until Khaireeya called. Saved by the bell, or so I thought.

Except no. Khaireeya sided with Laila. "Adyan, you should call her. Girls need reassurance." Et tu, Khaireeya?

Next thing I know, Laila shoves the phone into my hand. Kaltoom on the other end.

Her voice was cool, too cool. "Yes?"

I tried to explain myself. Told her it was nothing. Told her Humaira doesn't matter. But she brushed me off, playful tone masking something sharper. She acted like it didn't bother her, but I know Kaltoom better than that now. The little pauses, the way her laughter sounded thinner it did bother her. She was upset. Maybe even jealous.

And ya Allah, that thought made me grin in the dark.

I hung up, frustrated but secretly thrilled. She cares. She might not admit it, but she cares. And that's enough for now.

Girls are complicated. Too complicated. I don't know if I'll ever figure them out.

But lying there in bed, staring at the ceiling, one thing was clear:
Kaltoom isn't just under my skin anymore. She's in my blood.

Don't forget to vote and comment
✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨