"I'm sorry." I say sincerely through the phone.
Her beautiful eyes bloodshot and her nose reddened from crying, she looks at me wearily.
"I'm...I'm so tired." She sighs, her voice muffled through the static of the line.
"We're going to fix it oka...
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Ameena Dua Hassan Musa Egypt, North Africa Following night
"Doll," Anthony calls me from the sitting room, to where I sat at the dining table on my laptop. Oh, I was not his biggest fan right now. He was actually as good as dead to me, but I signed that fucking piece of paper so here I am; Ameena Musa.
Fuck that, I'm Ameena Musa Hassan. Doctor Ameena Hassan.
I can't fucking believe him, then it's the audacity to send for me, when he's ready. The nerve of all of them. Leaving me while I'm suppose to go wedding dress shopping, one of the peak experiences about wedding planning. He's turned this whole marriage planning sour and expects me to be happy with him. I kept up appearances in public because it was nobody else's business if we were at odds.
"Ameena, I'm sorry. Say something." But I don't say anything because he doesn't deserve it.
Even when I sat back and thought about the whole thing, if him and Cench didn't want to leave then it was obviously Wadz that pushed for this. "So tell me who wanted to leave."
"Ah hell, of course that's the thing you'd say to me." He scoffed while chuckling in some sort of disbelief. And Anthony knows I like my answers when I ask questions.
"So what are you waiting on then?" I tap against the tap emphasizing I didn't have all day.
"We all did. Because it was the right thing to do." Ant replies, very militant, very rehearsed. Shaking my head it felt like he had left all over again, because it's like he had no remorse for making me feel the way he did.
"Is that what you learned in fugitive boot camp?" I quip back, because that's a bullshit answer and he knew it. Cutting his eyes at me he turned his back to me, finally leaving me alone as I wanted.
The problem is I stupidly fucked him upon arrival, and so he expected me to just fall in line, when in reality I was a raging ball of dopamine and sexual starvation. I already beat myself up for it, berated myself like my mother would've and then ignored my own thoughts like my father ignored me. In ignoring my thoughts, charting became my top priority. I didn't want to be behind when I got back to London.
