Dare You To Love Me

«40» hearts in peril

Yaseerah couldn’t breathe.

An all-too familiar fear ran through every nerve in her body, prickling against every inch of her skin, becoming a tangled noose that looped around her neck, restricting her airways in a way she had never felt before.

Her breaths were coming out in short, shallow gasps, her heart thundering against her chest like a caged bird as she charged through the hospital’s entrance, a sharp acidic burn churning within her guts.

Her legs moved of their own accord, propelling her forward, her pace quickening until she was almost running down the hospital corridor which seemed to stretch endlessly before her–a never-ending maze of doors and corners, each one like a physical barrier between her and her mother.

“Yaseerah, slow down!” Fou’ad huffed, as he rushed to catch up with her. “Tell me what’s going on, you’re scaring me!”

The last one hour had been almost hazy, as they rushed out of the house, Fou’ad following after her holding an abaya he had picked at random–because she had ran out of the den in only her pajamas–and his car keys.

Fou’ad had wanted to ask her what happened or who had been on the other end of the call but he knew it wasn’t the right time.

So, he’d held one of her hand in his throughout the drive, only letting go when they’d reached their destination.

She hadn’t said much on their drive to the hospital, only muttering the name of the hospital and urging him to drive fast, her eyes wide with panic.

And now, he watched her with a level of confusion and wariness, as she made a beeline for the reception desk, her steps shaky and carrying an undercurrent of urgency that almost made him dizzy.

“Maryam Mahmoud Ibrahim,” she uttered, as she slammed her hands against the desk, startling the woman behind it. “Where is–”

“Yaseerah?” An unfamiliar voice–to Fou’ad–cut through the hallway, making them both turn.

Once again, Fou’ad watched as she dashed towards the lone figure across the hallway, and threw her hands around his neck, clinging to him like he was her only anchor in the raging storm.

His brows furrowed deeply, his eyes narrowing into slits as he watched the scene unfold before him, his confusion deepening even more. His emotions were a tangled mess–jealousy at war with his desire to be understanding.

He knew he should trust her, that there was more to the situation than met the eye. Yet, the sight of her in another man’s arms, desperate for a respite he couldn’t provide her gnawed at him, filling him with a sense of profound betrayal he couldn’t shake.

She was his wife.

Why was she clinging to another man so desperately and that too in front of him?

His heart wrenched with guilt for his jealousy, knowing it was unjustified, that she deserved his understanding. But in that moment, all he could see was her in the arms of another, and it tore at him with a fierceness he couldn’t contain.

Swallowing past the tight ball that had lodged itself in his throat and pushing aside the jealousy that had reared its ugly head with great difficulty, he inched closer to where they stood, hoping to get a clearer understanding of the situation.

“What happened?” he heard her ask, once she had pulled back from the man’s embrace.

His fingers itched to pull her away from him completely but he quelled down the urge, choosing to observe the scene instead.