Dare You To Love Me

«44» trippin' on us

After fajr prayer the next morning, Yaseerah and Fou’ad sat nestled together on the terrace sofa of his bedroom, watching as the first light of dawn spilled over the horizon.

Yaseerah leaned her head against Fouad’s shoulder, her eyes half-closed, as Fou’ad traced small circles on her hip bone.

In silent awe, they watched as the sky transformed into a beautiful canvas of pastel colors, blending seamlessly from deep purples to soft oranges and pinks.

“Tabarak Allahu ahsanul khaliqeen,”  Yaseerah whispered reverently, her eyes misting with tears as she beheld the glory of the rising sun.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Fou’ad murmured, turning his head to press a soft kiss to her temple.

“Absolutely,” she responded in an equally soft tone, her gaze still fixed on the horizon. “Why haven’t we done this before?”

Fou’ad seemed to be in thought for a moment, as he tapped her hip, a small smile curving his lips. “We’ve never had the chance, until now I suppose.”

Yaseerah shifted slightly, turning around so she was now facing him fully.

“That’s partially my fault,” she sighed, as she cast her eyes downward, her lashes fluttering as she struggled to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry I haven’t been as present as I should’ve been. I’ve let–”

His eyes softened, even as his eyebrows furrowed deeply, as he leaned in, his face mere inches from hers, his warm breath caressing her skin.

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said softly, as he gently cupped her face in his hands, his voice filled with tenderness. “You’ve had a lot on your plate, Albi.”

Yaseerah’s gaze lifted, her eyes locking onto his, her pupils dilating as she searched for understanding. Her lips parted, her words spilling out in a rush. “I know. But it still doesn’t excuse the fact that I’ve been distant. I haven’t been fair to you or to us, and...” Her voice cracked as she trailed off, her chin trembling as she fought to contain her emotions.

“Where’s this coming from, Albi?” he queried, his expression a mask of empathy as he rose to a sitting position, pulling her up with him so she was now straddling him, her knees on either side of his thighs.

A lump formed in her throat, about a dozen thoughts running through her head, as she looked into his eyes, allowing a glimmer of vulnerability to appear in her gaze. “I just don’t want to lose what we have, Fou’ad.”

Fou’ad’s expression softened even more, his thumb gently stroking her cheeks. “You could never lose me, Albi,” he murmured, his voice filled with love and reassurance. “Hasn’t it occurred to you yet that you could never get rid of me? We are a team, you and I. And nothing is ever going to change that in shaa Allah.”

“Are we though?” she sighed once again. “Sometimes it feels like you’re the only one carrying around your weight in the relationship, like it’s a ‘you’ situation, and not an ‘us’ like it’s supposed to be.”

Fou’ad’s chest tightened at the self deprecation and blame he heard in her voice. Though a part of him knew there was a grain of truth in what she said, no part of him held her accountable.

“Albi, there are forces in this life that are beyond our control. How could I ever begrudge you for prioritizing your mother’s health over our relationship? What kind of person will that make me?”

“It’ll make you human, azizem,” she whispered softly, as she leaned in, their foreheads touching. “I won’t blame you if you do,” she whispered, her eyes closing as she breathed in his familiar scent, their faces mere inches apart. “Because Allah knows, I do take blame myself.”