Modest Kisses

Chapter four.

I had just woken up. I could feel dried tears on my face. But I didn't shift my head, I didn't want him to know I was awake. he would try to make a conversation with me and make me see why he made us leave for New York the very next day after our wedding. I knew I would have to move with him eventually, but I was hoping he would wait at least a week with my family.

There was no logical reason behind it, he pulled the excuse of "important business meeting". What happened to honeymoon?

It led to an argument, until my Mamma pulled me into a two hour Tête-à-tête regarding marriage, and how sometimes sacrifices had to be made. And knowing my mum, she didn't fail at all to mention various kinds and circumstances that led to divorce. And that scared me. Even though I have no feelings whatsoever for Ahmid.. yet, I was going to try to make it work. True, I wanted to be married only once and sad, I got married to a guy I had no idea about.

The only good thing about this situation was the fact that I was in his private jet. And that ticked one item off my bucket list. But that couldn't compete with the number of wrongs.

Don't get any wrong ideas about why i had dried tears on my face. I broke down in his rented black sedan enroute airport, with only me, him and the almost non-existent chauffer. As stupid as it sounds, I cried because I was going to miss the comfort of the environment I was used to. I had never left India, I didn't even have the slightest clue as to where NYC was on the map. No matter how posh my family seemed, I have never actually crossed borders, my family was locally posh.

When Ahmid noticed my tears, he didn't say anything, I don't know why though, but I liked to assume maybe it was because he knew he wasn't supposed to. He held my hand in his giving it a comforting squeeze. I didn't pull back my hand, not only because he was now my mahram but also because I needed the comfort. I would probably regret this later but I was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

When we got to the airport, he din't let go of my hand and led me to the awaiting plane.

I knew to a passerby we would look like we were on our way to a romantic getaway, you know, we were both glowing from the beauty of the wedding day and boarding a private jet. Who was I kidding? I probably would have thought so too if I wasn't hurting.

He led me to a room, and made me lay down on the bed. He left, then came back shortly after with his laptop and a suitcase. Then he sat on the other edge of the bed. I turned to the opposite direction.

The exhaustion from my wedding day, mixed with the fit of tears I pulled off, and the super comfy bed led me to the sweet slumber I had just woken up from.

He realized I was awake, for I heard him shift a little closer, and he seized typing on the keyboard of his laptop.

I then realized something I hadn't realized before, we had never been this alone since we got married, we had never been this close. Being close to him wasn't that bad, it wasn't bad at all.

I had nothing to say to him, and he obviously didn't either. So we were enveloped in an awkward silence, thick enough to be sliced and served on a plate. Him knowing I was well awake, and me knowing he was well aware I was awake.

"Safa?" he said, his voice was low. And he seemed to be thinking over his action and wondering if he talking to me was a good idea.

"Hmm," I answered. I quit the pretense and sat down to face him, only to see his grey eyes scrutinizing me. A little bit shy, I looked at me hands instead.

"Would you forgive me if I said I was sorry?" he asked.

"I don't know, you have not apologized yet," I said, my full attention on how slender my fingers looked all of a sudden.