Life Of Imani

chapter 24

Nassim’s reaction to their quiet, developing connection was subtle but noticeable. He remained reserved, as always, but there were small shifts in his behavior that Iman couldn’t ignore. In the days following the event, Nassim became less harsh and cold, although he was still distant at times.

At home, he would occasionally ask about her day or offer a comment that wasn’t drenched in his usual sarcasm. He still maintained his busy schedule, often disappearing into his office for long hours, but the air around them no longer felt as suffocating. His silence, though still present, wasn’t as intimidating.

One evening, about a week after the event, Iman found herself in the living room, watching TV and flipping through her phone. Nassim came in, carrying some documents in his hand. He paused for a moment, then sat down on the couch opposite her, flipping through his papers. Iman glanced at him, slightly taken aback that he was choosing to sit with her instead of hiding away in his office.

She continued watching the show for a while, not wanting to break the silence, but eventually curiosity got the better of her.

“How was your day?” she asked, her tone neutral but genuinely interested.

Nassim didn’t look up from his papers immediately, but after a moment, he responded. “Busy. Meetings, phone calls. The usual.”

It wasn’t much of an answer, but it was better than his usual cold indifference. Iman nodded, turning her attention back to the TV, but then Nassim surprised her by speaking again.

“How about you? What did you do today?”

Iman blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He never asked her about her day. "Uh… not much," she replied, trying to sound casual. "I went out to run a few errands, then spent the afternoon here. Nothing exciting."

Nassim nodded, as if genuinely listening, though his focus shifted back to his papers. But there was something different in the air between them—a sort of unspoken understanding that they were both trying, in their own ways, to navigate this strange marriage.

Later that night, when they were both getting ready for bed, Nassim’s actions spoke louder than his words. He handed her a pillow, as usual, and she expected the same routine—separate spaces, no real interaction—but then he did something unexpected.

“Iman,” he said quietly as she was about to leave the room.

She turned, surprised by the soft tone of his voice. “Yes?”

Nassim hesitated, his eyes flickering to hers for a brief moment. “I know I’ve been… difficult. But I’m trying,” he said, his voice low but steady. “It’s not just you, okay? I’ve got things I need to work on.”

Iman felt her heart flutter slightly, not expecting this kind of honesty from him. “I know,” she said gently. “I appreciate that you’re trying.”

For the first time, Nassim’s expression softened slightly. He didn’t say anything more, but the tension between them had eased. There was still a long way to go, and Nassim was far from the warm, loving husband Iman had once hoped for, but this moment felt like a small victory.

As she left the room to sleep in her separate space, she couldn’t help but feel that maybe Nassim was beginning to see her as more than just an inconvenience. There was still a wall between them, but it was starting to crack. And that, for Iman, was progress.

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Nassim pov

Isa’s knee gives way with a sickening crack as the bullet rips through his kneecap. His scream is a mixture of pain and rage, echoing through the dimly lit room.