Too Little, Too Late

35

On Friday, Ibrahim left the office at 7:45PM.

With Ayra at Ibtihaj's place all week, he'd been working late; just so he could put his mind into something and not think about her. During breaks and while trying to fall asleep, he ended up doing just that; even when he stayed two nights in a row with Bella.

He parked the Telluride in its usual spot in the underground parking lot of The Oasis. A glance at the passenger seat had him recalling how Ayra had sat there the previous weekend, staring out of the window at the places they'd driven past.

The ache in his chest, which he'd been carrying around all week, returned. Unable to push down the urge for much longer, he grabbed his phone and unlocked it. He stared at her contact for a moment before he hit the dial button, bringing the phone to his ear while his heart decided it was time to race as the line rang. Just when he thought it'd go unanswered, Ayra picked up.

"Ibrahim."

His chest squeezed tightly and Ibrahim found himself swallowing, as nervous as a schoolboy with a crush; a way he hadn't felt in such a long time. It hit him then that he'd missed her even more than he knew. He'd missed her a lot. "Ayra."

"You know, when we were in Santorini, you said you and the others would no longer be closing late. It's funny how it's past 8 and you're not home."

"I just got home and –" His heart screeched when her words made sense. Barely breathing, he opened the car door. "Ayra, are you home?"

She laughed and it was so soft that it hurt. She hadn't laughed like that in what felt like forever and Ibrahim told himself he'd cry if she told him she was still at Ibtihaj's place although there was no way she'd know he wasn't home if she wasn't in it.

"Yes, Ibrahim." She said beautifully. "I'm home."

It took him less than half a minute to leave the car and lock it. It took him a minute and a few seconds to run to the lobby and when the elevator took its time coming down, Ibrahim made the decision to use the stairs, not caring how long it took to get up to their floor; no matter how long it took to get home to her.

By the time he got to the tenth floor, his breaths were laboured but he didn't care. With a hand that trembled, he entered the passcode and then pushed the door open. His world came to a beautiful stop and the first thing that hit him was the scent of her; a fruity and floral combination. Then there was Ayra; an embodiment of the painting he'd made and hidden from the world, including himself.

She wore the dress he'd gotten her for her birthday back in July and her red highlights were a little darker than they used to be but still evident, a contrast against her dark curls. Her hair fell past her exposed shoulders and while she had no make-up on, she was beautiful. So, so beautiful. Dimples he'd missed appeared on her cheeks when she smiled and her familiar blush made an appearance, adding more magic to the already beautiful scene.

Her eyes twinkled in a way he'd never seen before. "Don't tell me you ran up here, Ibrahim." Mischief wrote itself clearly on her face as she leaned forward, her smile widening by the tiniest inch. "You missed me that much?"

Feeling the overwhelming urge to cry, Ibrahim grabbed her hand, pulled her close, and brought his lips down on hers. A moment passed before she kissed him back and Ibrahim pulled her even closer, feeling as though he could finally breathe; as though he'd been underwater throughout the week.

Her arms moved to his neck, her fingers weaving into his hair and he sincerely loved it; all of it. He kissed her with a mix of emotions he couldn't explain; feeling anything and everything all at once and revelling in the way she kissed him.