Over and Over

Beryl

EL-BAAZ MANSOR,
KANO,
NIGERIA.

NARRATOR'S POV

The following day, Zubair's plan began to take shape.

He contacted a trusted friend in Doha, where Rayhana was studying.

The plan he had was simple: delay her return.

"Keep her away from the looming disaster until i can figure out how to stop it altogether," he said to his friend on the phone.

His friend agreed and understood the gravity of the situation.

Zubair felt a flicker of hope. Rayhana was smart—he just had to buy some time, enough to find a way out of this impossible situation.

Meanwhile, back at the Grand Chamber, preparations were underway for another grand event: Layla and Hakeem's L'ftou dinner.

The family was buzzing with excitement.

LAYLA'S POV

I had just returned from my internship, my mind still spinning from the whirlwind of the last few months.

The moment I stepped through the door, Ammi and Ummu greeted me warmly, urging me to go freshen up.

I did as i was told, but when i returned to the living room, I was met with a sight that stole my breath.

Dresses—gorgeous, dazzling dresses—were laid out across the furniture.

Silks and chiffons in every shade of elegance, from pale pinks to deep burgundies, shimmered under the dimmed lights.

"Come, Lalla," Ummu beckoned with a smile, guiding me towards the array of gowns.

Each one seemed more breathtaking than the last, but i felt an inexplicable dread settle over me.

The dresses were beautiful, but they represented something else—something that felt like a trap.

As i stood before the gowns, the door opened, and In walked Hakeem.

His presence immediately filled the room. His confidence, his sharp gaze immediately finding me as if he were drawn to me like a moth to a flame.

He strode over, his eyes never leaving me.

"Come, Van," Ummu called to him. "Help her choose a dress for your L'ftou."

He complied, his gaze still locked on me.

I felt a flush rise in my cheeks, a mix of irritation and something else i couldn't name.

A mobile changing room was brought to the centre of the living room, and I reluctantly entered, with Ammi's help, to try on the first dress.

I didn't want to be here, parading in front of Hakeem as if my worth could be measured by fabric and jewels. But I had no choice.

The first dress was a soft pink sheath, simple yet elegant.

I stepped out, my heart pounding in my chest, my eyes barely meeting Hakeem's as I stood before him.

He sat on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of champagne in his hand.

His expression was unreadable. After a moment, he gave a subtle shake of his head, "Unimpressive."

My jaw tightened. I turned on my heel, my back stiff as i retreated to the changing room.

One dress after another, I tried on three, but none seemed to satisfy him. His reactions were clipped, his disinterest palpable.

NARRATOR'S POV