fated hearts

chapter 23

The room seemed to shrink as Asiya's panicked voice echoed, her words cutting through the air like shards of glass. "Ya Mariya wai meye haka? Nurse, please come back! I have no relation with this man, please," she exclaimed, her voice trembling, almost breaking under the weight of her emotions. She fumbled with her waist-length braids, hastily gathering them into a bun, her hands moving frantically as if trying to regain control over her unraveling composure. Her scarf, once neatly folded, was now clutched tightly in her hands as she struggled to cover her head, her modesty a fragile shield against the storm brewing inside her.

Ibrahim stood a few feet away, his hands folded across his chest, his expression calm but his eyes twinkling with an affection that threatened to undo her resolve. Asiya's frantic gaze flicked to him, and for a moment, her thoughts betrayed her. "Ya Salam (Oh, Peace), why did he have to grow a beard for God's sake?" she thought, her pulse quickening. It suited him too well, amplifying his handsomeness and making it impossible for her to look away. She swallowed hard, whispering to herself, "Astagfirullah (I seek forgiveness from Allah)."

But Ibrahim heard her. His lips curved into a wider smile, and the warmth in his gaze seemed to pierce through her very soul. He took a step closer, his movements measured and deliberate, his voice as tender as the touch of a breeze. "Sia'm," he called softly, his tone carrying a weight of love and familiarity that made her heart skip a beat.

Asiya's breath hitched, and her eyes fluttered shut involuntarily, as if shielding herself from the intensity of his presence. "You know you can't call me that. Please stop," she whispered, her voice barely audible but carrying the plea of a heart caught between fear and longing.

Ibrahim’s eyes softened further, his gaze filled with nothing but adoration. "Why would Ya Mariya allow me to dress your wounds unless I have every right to?" he asked gently, his tone free of accusation but heavy with unspoken truths.

Her hands clutched the edge of the hospital bed as she leaned slightly away from him, her voice shaking. "I don't know. Please don't sit here; I don't feel comfortable. What if my husband sees us?" The words stumbled out of her mouth, her fear palpable as her eyes darted toward the door, searching for an escape.

He tilted his head, his smile unwavering as he teased, "Babyyyyy." The single word, drawn out in a tone so endearing, melted through her defenses like butter against a hot blade.

She froze. A jolt of electricity shot through her veins, climbing up to her head as her thoughts spiraled. "Innalillahi (Verily, to Allah we belong)," she muttered under her breath, her voice barely a whisper but laced with shock and disbelief.

His expression softened further, and he took a tentative step toward her, his voice tender. "I know your marriage has been dissolved."

Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes narrowing in an attempt to mask the flood of emotions coursing through her. "My marriage has been dissolved, is that right? Is that why you think you can just barge in here and offer to dress my wounds?"

Ibrahim took another step closer, ignoring her resistance. "Please leave. What if Baba comes? Please, Ibrahimmm," she begged, her voice trembling as her eyes filled with tears.

He sighed, his smile turning into a look of understanding. "Are you going to listen to what I have to say, or are you going to keep asking me to leave?"

Her voice rose, the panic building in her chest. "Nide, don Allah katafi (Please, for God's sake, just leave)! If someone walks in or tells Baba you're here, what do you think will happen? Ni wallah (I swear), I don't—"

"Shhhhh," he interrupted, placing a finger gently on her lips. The touch was featherlight, yet it carried the weight of his love and determination.

Her eyes widened, her voice dying in her throat. She froze, her body betraying her as her heart raced under his gaze. "Ya Salam, patient se surutu (Oh, Peace, this patient talks too much)?" he teased, his tone playful as his finger trailed away from her lips to tap the tip of her nose lightly. His next words sent a shiver down her spine. "Allah, inta qara cewa na fita, sena ciza bakinta (If you tell me to leave again, I’ll bite your lips)."