Love against all odds

07

                               |Farrah|

I stared at the humongous mansion in awe, my mouth agape. Even Ammi's mansion, with its lavish decor and sprawling gardens, couldn't compare to this opulent behemoth. Mami playfully nudged me, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Close your mouth, Farrah. You're attracting flies."

I snapped my jaw shut, feeling a flush rise to my cheeks. We were here at Mahir's house to spend the day, and I had no idea their family lived in a palace. Like, seriously, who needs this much space?

As we stepped out of the car, Mama – Mahir's mother and Mami's sister – emerged from the mansion's grand entrance. Her warm smile and open arms welcomed us into their home. Farid, my shy little brother, clung to me, his big black eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.

Mama's gaze swept over us, her eyes lingering on me for a fraction of a second. I caught a flicker of something – curiosity, maybe? – before she masked it with a dazzling smile. Her hug was warm, but awkward, like we were still finding our rhythm. No worries, I thought, we'll get comfortable with each other soon enough.

Amna and Madina, Mahir's sisters, swarmed around me, their chatter and laughter infectious. "Farrah, we're so glad you're here! We love your dress sense – you're always on point!" Amna exclaimed.

I grinned, accustomed to hearing praise about my style. I mean, who wouldn't want to be friends with Emerald High School's star girl? "Thanks, guys. You're making me blush."

Khalid, Mahir's younger brother, nodded at me, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hey, Farrah. Welcome to our humble abode."

Humble abode? This place was a royal palace!

As we entered the mansion, I couldn't help but gawk at the soaring ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and marble floors. The interior design was sleek and modern, with African accents that added warmth and depth.

"Wow, your house is stunning," I breathed.

Mama smiled, her eyes shining with pride. "Thank you, Farrah. We're glad you like it."

As we all sat down in the grand living room, I felt it – that unmistakable, intoxicating scent of bakhoor. My heart skipped a beat. Mahir.

My eyes scanned the room, searching for him. And then, suddenly, there he was.

Dashing in black sweatpants and a fitted blue T-shirt, his chiselled features seemed chiselled from marble. Our gazes locked, lingering for a fraction of a second. Time suspended.

A sly wink, a whispered promise: "Hey, pretty baby."

My cheeks flamed as I looked away, attempting to compose myself. But my escape was thwarted. My eyes collided with Mama's, her gaze piercing, judgmental. I sensed disapproval, but I brushed it off, blushing further.

The tension was palpable, until Farida, energetic as always, shattered the silence. She squealed, launching herself at Mahir. He swept her up, twirling her around as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Mama's expression transformed, a warm smile spreading across her face. I knew that look – she envisioned Farida as Mahir's future partner, not me. But Mahir had reassured me, his words etched in my mind: 'It's you and me against the world, pretty baby.'

I trusted him, despite the flutter in my chest whenever Mama's gaze lingered on me. Farida might be young and innocent now, but when she grew up, she'd understand. Mahir's heart belonged to me.

As I watched Mahir laugh with Farida, a pang of possessiveness struck me. He was mine.

As we sat in the lavish living room, conversations flowed effortlessly. Mahir snuck up behind me, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. "Hey, pretty baby," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "I want to show you something."