DARK HORSE: REDEMPTION

Dark Horse : 6

And inside us there is a talk,
that doesn't need an ear to hear it,
but a heart to feel it.
—Nizar Qahbani.

Tasnim settle in the Ottoman, her nose getting attacked by the scent of fresh paint and new furnishings. Fortunately, she remembered Shaheeda had put her tiny electric burner in her box. Tasnim decided to burn some wood incense, hoping to mask the unpleasant odors. But despite the heavenly aroma of turaren wuta, it was still overwhelmed.

Tasnim had taken her bath earlier, and had donned on a flowing atampha bou bou. She styled her atampha scarf in the elegant ture kaga tsiya manner, framing her heart-shaped face. Her luscious locks cascaded down her back.

Her makeup was casual yet striking, a subtle lip gloss, winged eyeliner, and a touch of mascara to make her lashes fuller.

Tasnim powered on her phone and waited for it to reboot. Her eyes wandered around the room, familiarizing herself with every nook and cranny. As her familiar wallpaper appeared, she opened the contact app and dialed Ummu's number.

The call rang repeatedly, but there was no answer. Tasnim sighed and tried again, only to be sent to voicemail once more. She tried calling Abbu, hoping he'd answer, but his line also went straight to voicemail.

Tasnim drew in a deep breath through her mouth, then exhaled slowly, the gentle puff of air a subtle release of tension. With nothing else to do, she opened Instagram to pass the time. She scrolled through her for you page, waiting for Shaheeda's arrival.

The door creaked softly, its gentle noise lost on Tasnim, engrossed in her scroll. Khalil's tall frame filled the doorway, his broad shoulders and chiseled features illuminated by the warm light.

His arms crossed over his chest, emphasizing the contours of his physique, as his gaze settled on Tasnim. His eyes filled with  Admiration, as he took in her serene beauty.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence, which startled Tasnim. Her gaze lifted, locking onto Khalil's intense stare. He wore a rich brown cotton kaftan, its elegant folds perfectly draping his strong body. The outfit radiated a sense of elegant masculinity.

"Assalamu alaikum," Khalil whispered, his tone warm and soothing, as he approached Tasnim.

"Wa alaikum Salam," she replied, her voice barely audible.

Khalil settled beside her on the Ottoman, his domineering presence made her to shift slightly. "Good morning," Tasnim greeted, her eyes fixated on her phone.

Khalil's gaze drifted from her face to her hands, his fingers gently wrapping around her wrist. He carefully took the phone and set it aside.

Tasnim glanced at her him in wonder, her lips pursed.

"Morning," Khalil said, his focus completely on her. "How was your night? Did you sleep well?"

She nodded.

"I'm the kind of man who craves his woman's undivided attention," Khalil explained, his voice low and sincere.

"Distractions don't sit well with me." He nodded toward the phone. "When we're together, I prefer you don't use it unless it's urgent."

Tasnim's lips puckered in displeasure, her eyes narrowing at Khalil's directive. The audacity, she thought, her mind rebelling. But she bit back her retort, recalling her mother's words.

Khalil's long fingers gently brushed against Tasnim's forehead, smoothing the crease that furrowed her brow. The sudden touch of his cool skin against her warm flesh sent a shiver down her spine. She trembled, caught off guard by the unexpected chill of his fingers.