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Aslam tightly held onto the steering wheel with one hand, focusing on the road. Amna sat quietly in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone, not sparing him a glance.
When they reached home, Aslam pulled into the underground parking and got out without looking at her. Amna hesitated for a moment before following, her Oran sandals loudly hitting against the polished concrete as she trailed behind him.
Neither of them spoke as they rode up to their floor and once they entered the apartment, Aslam walked directly to the bedroom without a glance back. Amna stood in the living room for a moment, her fingers grazing the edge of the console table by the edge of the room. She pursed her lips, then walked to the kitchen, yanking open the refrigerator door with slightly more force than necessary and she grabbed a tub of tiramisu.
Aslam walked directly to the bedroom and reached for the bottle of Tylenol on his nightstand, shaking out two tablets into his palm. He proceeded to the kitchen to grab a bottle of Voss water, when they bumped into each other by the door, Amna almost falling, before he quickly held her arm firmly, her tub of tiramisu now laid on the marble floor but thankfully did not spill because it was sealed with the bakery's sticker label.
"Careful," He warned but she ignored him and crouched, taking her tub of tiramisu without saying a word and quickly walked to the room.
When he returned, Amna was standing in front of the vanity, taking off her earrings. Her kimono and turban lay discarded on the bed, leaving her in the Skims bodysuit she had worn beneath. His gaze remained on her for a moment, a lump formed in his throat at the thought of the number of men that were looking while the wind was blowing off her kimono.
He cleared his throat. "I'm heading back to the Polo Club," he said, his tone devoid of emotion. "I'll order something for you to eat. And we'll go to Zainab and Abdulrahman's for dinner when I return."
Amna's hands froze mid-air, her bracelet slipping from her fingers and falling softly against the vanity table. She glanced through the mirror and went on with her business, now taking off her stack of rings including her supposed engagement ring.
He turned and walked out of the room and in seconds, the sound of the apartment door closing reached her in the silence.
She exhaled shakily, her gaze falling to her reflection in the vanity mirror. Her lips trembled as she blinked rapidly, trying to ward off the tears. Amna leaned slightly against the vanity, rubbing her temples as she tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions. The way he had looked at her—both angry and vulnerable—played over and over in her mind.
She slipped out of the bodysuit and grabbed a loose, comfortable dress from the few she had hung in the closet. A part of her wanted to follow him, to confront him and demand they talk things through, she was tired of walking on eggshells.
Settling on the bed, she picked up her phone and scrolled aimlessly, her mind unable to focus on anything. Minutes turned into an hour and a couple more, she busied herself by watching to distract herself but to no avail.
She'd started falling asleep when the intercom rang from the reception that there was delivery for her. She quickly scrambled out of bed and wore a hijab, walking to the door, it was bags of takeout food from Farfallino. Amna took them and set them all on the table and walked back to the room, not bothering to check any of the content, she'd even lost her appetite.
***
Amna went back to bed, sinking into the softness of it and pulled the blanket up to her chest. She considered calling her therapist, but after a moment, she sighed, setting the phone back down on the nightstand.
