Dare You To Love Me

«50» edge of despair (II)

Fou’ad helped Yaseerah to stand, propping her up and supporting her, when her legs wobbled beneath her.

With a steadying hand and encouraging steps, he guided her back to his car, and gently helped her inside, ensuring that she was situated okay before circling back and getting in the driver’s seat himself.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked, as he pulled a box of disinfectant  wipes from the compartment box and began to clean her palms.

“I don’t know. Just... away from here,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I need to... I need to think. What to say to Bilal and...”

“Let’s just focus on you right now,” Fou’ad stated, as he closed the lacerations on her palms with a band-aid. “The rest will fall into place.”

“I don’t–”

“Please let me take care of you. We’ll just drive around for a bit. You don’t need to think about anything right now.”

“Okay,” she acquiesced, exhaustion and numbness making her more pliant, as she leaned her head against the window.

Fou’ad started the car, his eyes flicking towards her in silent concern, before he drove out of the parking lot.

He drove in silence, recognizing and respecting her need for space, the hum of the engine the only sound in the car.

Occasionally, he would glance at her, checking to see she wasn’t on the verge of another breakdown, but not once did he push her to talk, knowing she would talk whenever she was ready.

Yaseerah’s mind felt like a minefield, as they drove for what felt like hours, gazing unseeingly at the passing scenery, only jolting to awareness when the car came to a stop in a familiar place.

“Why here?” she sniffled, curiosity and wariness tinging her tone, her gaze fixed squarely on the gates of Sama Equestrian Center, unsure if she wanted to be in such a public environment.

“I thought it might help to be somewhere that holds good memories for you,” Fou’ad replied, his gaze inquisitive as he stared at her, noticing her hesitation. “But we can go somewhere else if you’re uncomfortable, I don’t mind.”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s fine. I just...”

“What is it?” he queried.

“Never mind. This is perfect, thank you.”

“We can go somewhere else, Albi. We can do whatever you want. If you want to stay in the car, we can do that. Whatever you want, whatever you need. Just say the word, and I’ll make it happen, in shaa Allah.”

Yaseerah smiled, his words offering her a brief respite from all of the turmoil she felt.

She leaned in and pressed her lips against his, feeling a rush of warmth spread through her–a mixture between relief and desire, as the worries and uncertainty faded away, leaving only the sensation of Fouad’s lips against hers.

Yaseerah closed her eyes, savoring the taste of him, and the scent of his cologne mingling with the faint scent of the leather interior.

Fouad’s hand gently cradled her face, his fingers tracing a delicate path along her jawline, sending shivers down her spine.

When they finally parted for breath, their foreheads resting against each others, Yaseerah’s hand found his, intertwining their fingers together.

“I have no idea what I’ll do without you,” she whispered, as she opened her eyes, pulling back slightly to skate the fingertips of her free hand against his cheek.