Over and Over

atomic⁸

KANO,
NIGERIA.
EL-BAAZ MANSOR.

LAYLA'S POV

"So... you mean to say you love me?" My voice trembled, tears pooling in my eyes.

Hakeem's hands emerged from his pockets, steady, deliberate. His gaze held me in place. "I don't just love you, Layla," he said, his voice low, edged with something I couldn't quite name. "I... I'm nothing without you.

I could chase power, prestige, anything in this world, but losing you... made me realize that my world revolves around you."

He knelt before me, unafraid of my sharp glare, unshaken by my trembling. The intensity in his eyes made it impossible to look away. He wasn't asking. He wasn't pleading. He was stating a truth I couldn't deny.

"I... I won't marry you!" My voice cracked, raw, carrying all the hurt I had bottled for so long.

Hakeem's lips curved faintly, a smile that was equal parts frustration and defiance. "Then maybe... that will have to wait for the next life," he said, rising slowly, carefully, like he knew exactly how fragile I was. "Besides... we've already been a couple for two days."

My chest ached. My knees felt weak. "Why... why me?" I whispered, my tears spilling freely now.

"You are breaking me, Layla," he admitted, and there it was, an honesty so rare it made me pause. "I can withstand everyone else's anger, their pain, their tears... but not yours."

He dropped to his knees again, closer this time, his eyes pleading. "Please... Layla. Tell me how I can make it right. Tell me to do anything... or I swear, I'll—"

I shoved him back, my hands trembling, my voice sharp and ragged. "Then just... die!"

I stormed off before I could think, leaving him on the floor, silent, still, consumed by some mixture of guilt, pain, and... longing.

And in that moment, I hated him. I hated him with every fiber of me, yet a part of me ached at the thought of him not being there.

NARRATOR'S POV

"I still think we should've told her," Dada said quietly, her voice a mix of sorrow and relief.

His Highness shook his head gently. "We should have... but this was for the best. For both of them."

As they spoke, Layla appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were red, her shoulders hunched, her every step heavy with disbelief.

"I... I can't stay here," she whispered, her voice cracking as she moved toward Dada.

Dada's heart clenched at the sight of her granddaughter's anguish. Tears threatened to spill as Layla rested her head against her shoulder. "I don't... I don't like Hakeem. Why did you—why did you marry me to him?"

Before Dada could answer, Hakeem entered the room, his presence quiet but commanding.

"This is your home too, Layla," he said softly, his eyes searching hers.

"No, let her be," His Highness interrupted firmly, resting a hand on Hakeem's shoulder. "She needs time. Space. Let her breathe."

Hakeem's jaw tightened, but he nodded, a flicker of hurt in his eyes before he stepped aside.

Breakfast was tense. Layla sat carefully, angled so she wouldn't have to see him. Every bite felt heavy, as if swallowing it would somehow make the world lighter—but it didn't. Her mind spun. So... I'm a married woman. A wife... to him? She felt the words lodge in her throat.

Seema stormed in like a tempest, her expression fierce. "This marriage is... not supposed to happen!"

"Aunt..." Layla whispered, wishing she could disappear.