Better Late Than Never

25

It took Ayman a near minute to locate Ayra and Ibtihaj in the shop they were in. Then he was crossing the space between the door and the table they occupied. It was a miracle he didn't run, especially when he glaringly noticed that Ayra's head stayed on the top of the table even when Ibtihaj sighted him.

Ibtihaj, who'd been waiting after she received Adil's message of them being on their way, rose to her feet. "Ah, thank God you people are here. Shey you –"

Ayman walked past her, his attention solely on Ayra. Surprised to no ends, Ibtihaj blinked and turned around, watching as he dropped the bag of all he'd purchased on the table and immediately squatted beside Ayra's chair. Ibtihaj blinked again, cocking her head slightly; genuinely curious.

Ayman's chest squeezed when Ayra raised her head and her eyes met his. Her smile, as beautiful as it always was, started out slowly. "Ayman –"

"Are you okay?" He itched to hold her but knew he couldn't so he settled for scanning her face and whatever part of her body he could see. He searched for even the slightest of bruises or the slightest hint that she was in pain. "Does anywhere hurt? Did anyone do anything? Are you –?"

"Ayman." Ayra's voice was soft and warm; matching exactly how she felt at the sight of him, and also because of his worry. "I'm fine. Sorry for making you guys –"

Ayman shook his head. "No, no, no, you don't have to apologise for anything. We were coming this way anyways so it's no issue at all. Are you sure you're fine? Nowhere hurts, right?"

She shook her head. "Nowhere does. I'm okay."

"And the nausea? They said you threw up."

Colour – from more of embarrassment than anything else – stained her cheeks and she averted her gaze sideways. "It wasn't my best moment." She looked back at him and smiled again. "I'm realising maybe not every experience in Lagos is for me. The molué certainly isn't. If you had any thought of going on one, which I doubt, let me tell you that it sounds better than it actually is. The buses are really rickety and it smells too. Also, not everyone in the bus is nice. Don't even get me started on who Ibty said is the bus conductor. It was a whole lot."

Ayman, despite how angry her description made him, nearly laughed at her expression. Relief wove like tendrils around everything else he felt. Despite that, he still asked "You're sure you're okay?"

Ayra nodded again, feeling even warmer than before. "I am. I'm not sure my stomach's a hundred percent settled but it is definitely better than it was as at the time we got here." Her smile widened slightly. "I'll be fine In Shaa Allah, especially since we're not following a bus again. It'll be okay."

Where she stood beside her husband-to-be, Ibtihaj had her arms folded across her chest and her brow rose to the sky as she continued to watch the scene in front of her. Adil watched too, just as curiously as she did. Fatai, who joined them, did the same.

Ayman nodded, a smile on his face. He breathed a little easier. "I'm glad." He gestured towards the bag on the table, letting her attention move in that direction. "I envisioned the worst when we got the news so I made sure we stopped at a shopping centre."

He pulled the bag closer towards her and Ayra felt her emotions swirl, her smile slowly fading off her face as he continued. "Thankfully, they had ginger ale, a drink with lemon and ginger, and mints." He turned back to her. "I got about four bottles of water too because I didn't know if you'd need more than one. I also wasn't sure you'd gotten water here so..."

Ayra's gaze held his and the swirl of emotions in her chest got bigger and bigger; everything feeling unfamiliar and extremely new. It had to be the first time for her that the world around them faded into the background. All that was in clear focus was him. Only him.