Over and Over

Violets

KANO,
NIGERIA.
EL-BAAZ MANSOR.

NARRATOR'S POV

Hakeem spotted Abdallah across the room and offered a quick smile. "Hi, dude," he greeted, trying to keep his tone casual.

Before Abdallah could respond, Layla appeared, carrying a tray of freshly baked cookies. The aroma of butter and chocolate hit him first, and then the sight of her, her careful steps, her hair catching the light.

"Layla!" Abdallah called, waving her over. She returned his smile, her eyes bright, and moved closer, setting the tray gently on the table. "Hi, Abdallah," she said, her voice soft.

Abdallah grabbed two cookies without hesitation, biting into them with delight. Warm, buttery, perfect. He leaned back, eyes closing for a moment to savor it.

Layla's chest lifted slightly at his reaction. A small, pleased smile crept across her face.

Then, disaster. As she moved to straighten the tray, her foot caught the edge of the rug. The tray tipped, and cookies scattered in every direction. One landed squarely on Hakeem's chest.

She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Oh no—!" Hakeem froze, then blinked down at the crumbs decorating his shirt. "Where's your head at, lady?" he snapped, standing abruptly and brushing the mess off. His voice was sharper than he intended, his pulse picking up.

"I'm... I'm sorry," Layla whispered, wide-eyed and flushed with embarrassment. He didn't answer. He just turned sharply and walked off, brushing crumbs from his shoulders.

Layla stayed frozen for a heartbeat, then exhaled slowly, a tiny, secret smile tugging at the corners of her lips. The moment stung, yes, but it also... thrilled her.

Abdallah chuckled quietly, shaking his head. Layla gathered the tray, still smiling to herself, feeling lighter than before despite the chaos.

Hakeem returned a little later, now in fresh clothes. He settled into a chair, checking his Patek Philippe out of habit, scanning the time for Quran recitation. But his thoughts weren't on prayer.

"So," he said, finally, voice calm but carrying an edge. "What was so important that you had to come here this late?"

Abdallah took a deep breath, shoulders stiff. "Hakeem... there's something I need to tell you. About Layla."

Hakeem's chest tightened. A strange, cold heat rose in his body. "About her?" His voice came out quieter than he intended, a lump forming in his throat.

"I... I like her," Abdallah said, words tumbling out, fast. "No, more than that, I've fallen for her. I want to spend my life with her." His eyes drifted to the chandelier above, unfocused, dreaming aloud.

Hakeem's jaw clenched. His stomach turned over. His hands curled into fists on his lap, and he had to close his eyes to stop himself from lashing out.

"If you like her... why tell me this?" His voice was sharper now, low, almost dangerous. Abdallah shifted, worry flickering across his face. "I... I need your advice, Hakeem. Wallahi, I'm in love."

Hakeem rubbed at his forehead, swallowing hard. The urge to scream, to throw something, to somehow erase the words he'd just heard pressed against him.

"I'm not enjoying this," he said finally, each word controlled but tight. "Don't drag me into it. If you can't tell her yourself, then... just leave me out of it."

He looked at Abdallah, eyes dark, a storm brewing quietly beneath his calm exterior.

HAKEEM'S POV