Dare You To Love Me

«23» love and lies

Fou’ad was Fulan.

Fulan was Fou’ad.

The realization struck her so hard like a one-two punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of her. If she hadn’t been sitting, Yaseerah would have found herself crumpled down on the floor.

A startling rush of relief overwhelmed her in that moment, drowning out the air in her lungs as she continued to stare at him, the joy in his eyes resonating through her.

Her gaze flicked behind him towards his brother, subtly checking them out, as she put to face the familiarity she had felt, the first moment she’d seen him.

She had been hiding him, falling for him, beating herself up for wanting him, and yet, it was him, all this time.

The relief she felt was swiftly overtaken by a storm of conflicting emotions, as waves of disbelief crashed against her consciousness.

Her chest tightened, constricting with each passing second, as if an invisible force gripped her heart. The air around her thickened, making it difficult to breathe, and the room seemed to close in on her.

How could she have been so blinded to have not made the connection earlier?

Every beat of her heart echoed in her ears, a rhythmic drumming that drowned out the chatter, as her mind raced, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions tearing through her.

Anguish, betrayal, and a profound sense of loss collided within her, creating a turbulent storm that threatened to engulf her.

The ache in her head doubled down, making her temples feel like they were pounding as blood rushed to the sensitive skin. “Are you... You?” she whispered, but her question got drowned out in a sea of voices, as ululations and cheers from the crowd rose higher.

Confusion tore her to shreds in that moment, because a part of her wanted to hurl herself at him, and soak in his warmth. But the other part, wounded and betrayed, wanted to lash out at him, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain she felt.

Had he been playing her all along? Had it all been a game? An orchestrated deceit that stretched over the entire duration of their meeting? Had every smile, every moment they shared been a calculated move? A ploy against her? To get her to— And to what end?

Yaseerah wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, but she forced every bit of emotion down, focusing on the anger that coursed through her.

While on the way to the hall, terror had filled Yaseerah about what her father would do to her if Fou’ad rejected her, broke off the wedding she knew he didn’t want–considering he had managed to ghost her for the entirety of the two years they had been engaged–but this...here, now, knowing he was the man she had been falling for all along, Yaseerah had no idea what to think.

Everything made sense to her now. How he hadn’t been worried when she told him they couldn’t be together. Why Hayat hadn’t been appalled during the henna party when Nadia had mentioned Fulan. Why her father hadn’t punished her, when he saw that text message.

They all knew.

“Say cheese Mr. and Mrs. Farraj,” Hayat stated, a wide grin on her face, as she set her phone on the bride and groom.

“Alhamdulillah,” a cousin of Fou’ad whom Yaseerah couldn’t recall her name called out, her eyes sparkling with genuine happiness. “Fou’ad has only been waiting for this moment for forever.”

“You look absolutely gorgeous today Yas,” Layla crooned, as she leaned in to hug Yaseerah.

“Thank you,” Yaseerah angled her chin slightly.