A Vow Of Love (Book #2) (Completed)

Chapter 20: Crossing The Line

TARIQ FALED

It had been four days, two hours, and four minutes since I'd last seen Eman.

Four days, two hours, and four minutes of constantly thinking about her. I wondered if she thought about me, too. I would feel like a fool if she didn't but I hoped that she did. We were scheduled to meet on Tuesday and then Eman would tell me if she wanted more with me, if she wanted to get married to me.

If she wanted to wait another four months before we got married, I would understand. It would be favorable for the both of us. She would complete uni and could pursue what she wanted to after we got married. But if she wanted to get married to me next week, I wouldn't mind that either.

I grunted as I did another pushup, losing track of how many I had done till now. Sweat dripped from my eyebrows onto the mat, the silence in my home gym allowing me to think clearly. Apart from my prayers, my workouts were my safe haven. I liked getting lost in them. My brain was quiet for once and I felt more connected to my body than I did at any other time.

But these days, even during my workouts, I thought of Eman. I was positive I was going crazy, especially after our first mulaqat. I wanted her more than ever, having had a glimpse into the kind of person she was, her likes and her dislikes.

She'd told me that she hated anything strawberry flavored, that she was allergic to eggs but could have them in cakes, that she liked reading after a long day. I could almost see her now, tucked in her bed, reading one of her romance books. And I wanted to be there with her.

I wanted to hold her. I wanted to protect her. I wanted to provide for her. It physically hurt me to think that there was a chance that she might still refuse to be my wife. I would respect her decision, of course but it was still painful to think about.

My arms buckled as I pushed myself up again. Grunting, I heaved myself to my feet, wiping my face with my hand. I turned to look at myself in the mirrors that were lined up against one of the walls of the room. I had discarded my shirt for this workout. I was in a pair of sweatpants and nothing more.

My hair was tied away from my face, to prevent it from getting into my face. Sweat dripping down my neck, between my pecs and down to my abdomen, the wetness reflecting off the perfectly sculpted abs. I was proud of the body I had built. It took a lot of discipline and dedication and I had done it. It was a way to prove myself to me.

I pushed the stray strands of hair out of my face, going through my mental list of exercises to make sure I'd done each one of them. Once I was satisfied that I had completed training for the day, I sat down on my mat to stretch. It took me twenty minutes to go through my post-workout stretch routine.

As I folded up my mat and walked to one side of the gym where I had set up a rack for the mats, I heard my doorbell ring. Glancing at my smart watch, I frowned. I wasn't expecting anybody today. It was a Sunday and I usually stayed in and rarely ever had visitors other than the guys.

I picked up my shirt that was lying on a bench as I walked out of the gym. Mama kept asking me to hire a butler since it was only me in a fairly big house but I liked my privacy. I liked being alone. Therefore, I didn't hire a maid or a butler. I could easily afford both but I chose not to.

Walking up to the front door, I unlocked it and pulled it open. Out of everyone in this whole world, the person standing on my doorstep was the last man I was expecting to see.

"Assalamualaikum." Shariq greeted me. When I recovered from the initial shock of seeing him at my house, I felt the anger I'd felt at the museum returning in a white, hot wave that drowned my entire being.