In the Heart of Darkness

Chapter 31: His Heart Isn't Mine

The drive home was thick with tension, the air inside the car was suffocating. Zara sat quietly, her hands clenched in her lap, sensing Ibrahim's anger simmering beneath the surface. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles white as he tried to control himself. Not a word had been exchanged since they left Zaviyar's event, and Zara's heart thudded heavily in her chest. What had she done to provoke this?

As the city lights flickered by, she glanced at Ibrahim's side profile, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed it might shatter. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead, his silence more oppressive than any outburst.

They finally pulled up to their house, and Ibrahim parked the car without a word. Zara hesitated, watching him for a moment then she unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car, her movements slow and cautious, her heart heavy with a mixture of fear and confusion. Her mind racing with possibilities. What had triggered this? Was it something someone had said at the event? Was it the mention of Maria? She couldn't piece it together.

Inside the house, Ibrahim stormed ahead, his back was to her, his shoulders stiff with barely-contained frustration. Zara followed fingers trembling slightly as she turned to face him, the silence between them unbearable. She needed to understand what was happening, why he was acting like this.

"Ibrahim," she called softly, her voice trembling as she closed the door behind her. He didn't turn around, his back to her, his breathing heavy.

She took a step closer, her chest tight with worry. "What's wrong? Why are you behaving like this? What did I do wrong?"

Still, no response. Zara's frustration bubbled up. She couldn't take the silence anymore, the weight of his anger crushing her. "Ibrahim," she tried again, more forcefully this time, her voice breaking. "Please, talk to me. What have I done?"

At last, he spun around, his eyes blazing with an anger she had never seen before. His voice, when it came, was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. "You should not have spoken to her like that."

Zara blinked in confusion, her mind scrambling to understand what he meant. "What? What are you talking about? What did I say that was wrong?"

Ibrahim's jaw tightened, and he clenched his teeth as he spoke, his voice dripping with frustration. "How could you... so informally, so casually, talk about kids like that? Before ever talking to me about it?"

Zara froze, stunned by the accusation. Children? That's why he was angry? Her heart sank, disbelief flooding her. Of all the reasons for his sudden rage, this was the last thing she had expected.

"What?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Ibrahim... what's so wrong in it? I didn't think it would upset you. Why does it matter that I told Aiza I wanted children?"

His eyes narrowed, and his words were laced with bitterness. "You don't get it, do you? You don't talk about something so personal, something so significant, without even considering my feelings."

Zara's throat tightened, her confusion morphing into hurt. "Ibrahim... I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't think it was that big of a deal. I was just talking to her about my hopes, about our future."

"Exactly," Ibrahim shot back, his voice rising. "Our future. You don't get to decide what that looks like without me."

Zara's heart pounded, tears brimming in her eyes. "I wasn't deciding anything, Ibrahim. I was just... I was just expressing what I wanted. I didn't know it would make you so angry."

His gaze hardened, and he ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room like a caged animal. "You didn't think. That's the problem, Zara. You never think."

The words struck her like a physical blow, and she flinched, her tears spilling over. "That's not fair," she choked out, wiping at her face. "You're acting like I committed some unforgivable crime. All I did was share a dream—a hope for us. Why are you reacting like this?"

Ibrahim stopped pacing, his eyes locking with hers, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. "Because I don't want kids, Zara."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She stood there, frozen, unable to breathe. What he doesn't want kids. The very thing she had longed for, dreamed about, was something he didn't even want. The weight of his statement crushed her, and her voice came out in a shaky whisper. "You don't... want kids?"

Ibrahim's expression was hard, unyielding. "No."

Zara stared at him, her mind reeling. "But... but Ibrahim," she stammered, tears streaming down her face now, "you already have Sofia. It's not like you're scared of being a father. So why? What's wrong with the idea of us having children together?"

Ibrahim's face twisted in anger, and he snapped, his voice like a whip. "Keep Sofia out of this. She has nothing to do with us."

The sudden harshness in his tone made Zara's blood boil. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, her voice trembling with a mix of hurt and anger. "Then why do you have a problem with me being the mother of your children?"

Her words hung in the air between them, sharp and piercing. Ibrahim didn't respond, his silence speaking louder than anything he could have said. Zara waited, her heart pounding, hoping for him to explain, to say something that would make sense of this nightmare. But when he said nothing, the realization hit her like a tidal wave.

"Oh, I see," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It's because I'm not her, isn't it? I'm not the woman you love. I'll never be."

Ibrahim's eyes flickered with something—guilt, perhaps—but he still remained silent.

Zara let out a bitter, tearful laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "Oh, it makes sense now. You've never said you loved me, have you? You've been kind enough not to break my heart with the truth, but I can see it now. It's always been Maria, hasn't it?"

She stepped closer, her hand trembling as she placed it over his chest, right where his heart beat beneath. "She's still in here, isn't she? She's the one you wanted to have a family with, not me. You didn't have a problem with her being the mother of your child because you loved her."

Ibrahim's expression faltered, a flash of pain crossing his face. "Zara, it's not like that. You're taking this too personally—"

Zara laughed again, though the sound was hollow, broken. "Personally?" she cried. "Ibrahim, how could this not be personal? This is my life, my heart we're talking about! You're telling me that the future I want, the family I want... is something you don't even care about!"

He clenched his jaw, clearly struggling with his emotions. "Zara, I just—"

"You just what?" she interrupted, stepping even closer, her voice growing dangerously quiet. "You don't think I'm good enough to be the mother of your children? Is that it?"

Ibrahim took a step back, shaking his head, but Zara pressed forward, her heart pounding in her chest. "Tell me, Ibrahim. You know how babies are made, don't you?" Her voice was low, almost a whisper, her words filled with raw, aching pain. "Because we've done it. Not just once. Not just twice. We've done it over and over."

She stepped even closer, their faces inches apart, her eyes blazing with tears and fury. "What if I'm already pregnant? What if I'm already carrying your child?"

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