Too Little, Too Late

39

Ayra first made a stop inside the mansion to use the restroom, using the mirror to fix her dress and turban once she'd relieved herself. Satisfied with her reflection and with the pep talks she gave herself just so she acted well the entire night, she grabbed her clutch and stepped out of the guest bathroom, stopping in place at the sight of Ibrahim descending the stairs.

He also stopped in place when he sighted her, his gaze slightly sad as he took her in. Ayra's chest did a little squeeze and she forced every unwelcome emotion back. All week, since the sorry excuse of the dinner with Serkan and Aliana, he'd carried around him a cloud of sadness and had been a little clingier than usual; to the extent that she had to stop herself from feeling bad for him when he hurt her with every discovery she made and every plan she had to put in place.

Regaining composure, she closed the bathroom door while he descended the remaining stairs before making his way towards her with slow but graceful steps. He looked so good, Ayra was not going to deny it, but unlike before, she couldn't bring herself to say the words. They'd since gone past that.

He stopped in front of her, offering a small smile. "Hey."

She acted as though she didn't see the tell-tale signs that he'd cried. She smiled back. "Hi."

"Are you just arriving?"

She shook her head. "We arrived a little earlier. I can't say how long it's been actually. Since Ibty's using the opportunity to talk to this really good friend of hers, I decided to use the restroom and then admire myself in the mirror."

The last part got a small laugh out of him and it made her chest squeeze again. He ended his laughter with a sigh, a moment passing before he said "You look beautiful, Ayra. You'd definitely turn heads tonight."

Her blush was little and her smile turned sad although she did her best to ensure he didn't see it. She blessed him with a twirl. "I had to dress to impress. It is a big event after all and a Fahad shouldn't be caught lacking."

The tender way he stared at her made her chest squeeze once more. The part of her who was yet to get the memo that she was no longer supposed to love him let out a little sound of pain.

You're seeing me too late, Ibrahim, she wanted to say. You should have looked at me this way a long time ago.

He stepped forward and took her free hand in his, lacing her fingers. He stared at their hands for a moment, as though he'd never seen anything more beautiful, before bringing his eyes to hers; giving her a glimpse of his pain and anguish before he brought his walls up. His smile returned, a little wider than it had been. "This is a new dress, right?"

She nodded, keeping her act going. "It is. You should be paying more attention to your bank statements, Ibrahim Fahad, because this was covered with your card."

His smile stretched and his expression brightened sincerely. "I wouldn't have had it any other way." He leaned in and kissed her cheek, right above her dimple. "It was worth every penny, that I can assure you."

Her chest felt like it'd been scratched for what should have been the billionth time. "Thank you."

He straightened. "You're welcome."

Her dress was black; a high-necked satin A-line dress with a wide sash that accentuated her slender waist and bishop sleeves that covered the length of both her arms. Like his mother, her turban was simple but her hair was entirely covered. Her earrings, as was becoming regular with her, were simple silver studs and they matched her black and silver clutch which held her phone and cards. Although the dress covered her heels, she had no doubt he knew she wore them as she was definitely taller.