Sequel to "I can't rewrite our fate"/ second book in the Hassan siblings series ~Neha Hoque, someone who has gone through trials and discrimination regarding her faith but has been blessed with a new life.
Haadi Hassan, the local workaholic that has...
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"Neha get up." A low voice says to me.
"What- what time is it?" I ask, opening my eyes after the long slumber I've had.
Looking around the room, I realise I'm in my living room and was sleeping on my sofa.
"Neha get the f*ck up, where's my food?" A man with scruffy hair and tan skin asks aggressively. A man who I realise is Zayan, my husband.
Did I cook before?
I thought I made the rice and curry before, I swear I did.
"Zayan i did-" I begin to say before he interrupts me.
"What? You made this crap?" He asks me, becoming louder and louder before showing me the pot of curry that had become slightly burnt of the side.
Yallah, he's going to make a big deal about this now.
Ya Rabb please don't let him explode on me right now.
"Listen, I can make a new one in an hour tops. It won't take long for me to cut the onio-" I state before he raises his hand in front of me.
"Neha babe, it's fine I'll just get us some takeaway today alright?" He says, causing my eyes to stare at him in confusion.
Takeaway?
Since when does he like takeaway?
Taking a few steps closer to me till his hand reaches for my cheek he says, "Here, take the pot and I'll go get my card."
Nodding reluctantly, I begin to take the pot from his hands to mine before he drops it on the floor.
Everywhere.
"Oh, sorry babe. Guess you can't have takeaway with me tonight." He slowly says, sounding so proud of the mess he's made. The mess he's made me.
Tonight.
Tonight, he says like I've actually eaten in a few days, but nobody would notice that.
My eyes are glued to the floor, to what looks like splatters of curry and chicken but it looks like all the mistakes I've made since meeting the man I call my husband.
"Pick it up then." He tells me, crossing his arms together. Waiting for me to get on my knees and start cleaning his mess up.
But I can't hear him properly, not really in all fairness.
"I'll help you." Zayan says before pushing me to the floor.
My back begins to sting from the pain of his punch as I begin to get covered in the curry.
I feel the tears coming but try my hardest to not let them come to surface.
If they come to the surface he'll call me a crybaby.
