UNENDING

22- Selfish

-ASIYA-

As I sat on the couch in Inna's living room, the world felt like it was spinning. Mubarak's words echoed in my mind, over and over, as if they were caught in an endless loop. I turned to him, my voice barely above a whisper, "Mubarak, did he really say I could take my time? That he'd wait for me to come back on my own?"

He looked at me, his expression calm, maybe even a little amused. "Yes, Asiya," he confirmed. "That's exactly what he said."

I felt a rush of relief, but it was tangled with disbelief. My mind couldn't reconcile the image I had of Al-Qasim—furious, demanding, maybe even violent—with this unexpected patience. I had braced myself for him to be livid, to demand my location, to rough up Mubarak for daring to be involved in my disappearance. But instead, he told Mubarak that he would wait. Did I misunderstand him all this time?

I thought back to an incident at his cousins wedding, where a man—someone I didn't even know—had the nerve to ask for my name and number. I remembered how Al-Qasim had practically lunged at him, his fists clenched, his eyes blazing with a rage I had never seen before. If I hadn't stepped in, begged him to stop, he might have seriously injured the man. That was the Al-Qasim I knew—possessive, protective to the point of suffocation, and always ready to remind the world that I was his. And now, this same man was telling me I could take my time?

"Mubarak," I asked again, my voice tinged with doubt, "are you absolutely sure it was Al-Qasim you met with and came out unscathed?"

Mubarak rolled his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yes, Asiya, I'm sure. Stop being so dramatic."

But I couldn't help it. Disbelief lingered in my chest, refusing to let me fully accept what he was saying. How could Al-Qasim—my Al-Qasim—be so calm about this? It didn't make sense. I was still processing all of this when Mubarak cleared his throat, his expression turning serious.

"There's one more thing I need to tell you," he said, his voice careful, as if he was choosing his words with great caution.

"What is it?" I asked, already feeling my stomach twist with anxiety.

Mubarak hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Al-Qasim asked about the bruises... the ones you always came into the pharmacy with."

I felt like the ground had been yanked out from under me. My heart dropped into my stomach, and I could barely breathe. "Mubarak," I pleaded, my voice trembling, "please tell me you didn't say anything to him."

His gaze softened, and he shook his head. "I didn't, Asiya. I told him I didn't know anything, and he believed it. You don't have to worry."

Relief washed over me like a wave, but it was tainted with lingering fear. What if Al-Qasim had pressed further? What if Mubarak hadn't been able to keep my secret? The thought of him finding out about the bruises made me feel sick to my core.

Inna, sensing the tension in the room, clapped her hands together lightly, breaking the silence. "Alright, enough of this," she said, her tone cheerful but firm. "Let's put this conversation aside and have lunch. Asiya, you're staying here, and that's all that matters right now."

Lunch passed in a blur. I barely tasted the food, my mind too preoccupied with everything Mubarak had told me. Afterward, he left, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I retreated to my room, intending to rest, but sleep was impossible. My mind was a storm, swirling with confusion and disbelief. I couldn't shake the feeling that I should call Al-Qasim, to hear his voice, to know for sure that everything Mubarak had said was true.

But my mind said no. I had left for a reason and calling him might undo everything. Yet, there was something tugging at my chest, a voice whispering that I should make the call. Maybe I needed to hear it from him, to know that he wasn't angry, that he wasn't planning to drag me back home by force.