God's way

Part 33

The next day at work, I felt the tension before I even stepped through the door. 1 and a half week until Christmas, and the store was a mess. I had spent most of the day trying to ignore the way my chest tightened at the thought of seeing Nabil again. 

As I pushed the mop across the floor, the rhythmic sound of the bristles against the tile filled the quiet. Nabil was a few feet away, crouched beside one of the counters, gathering wilted leaves from the flowers we hadn't sold. The silence between us was deafening, and I couldn't tell if it was awkward or if it was just me overthinking everything.

He broke the quiet first. 

"Are you celebrating Christmas with your family?" His voice was casual, like he was trying to ease the air between us.

The question hit me harder than I expected, and the thought of my brothers leaving for Sicily surged to the forefront of my mind. My grip on the mop tightened. I shook my head and said softly, 

"No... My brothers are leaving for Sicily."

I saw him pause, his hands stilling over the leaves. He looked up at me, his brow furrowing in concern. 

"You've probably seen the news," I added quickly, trying to explain, but my voice cracked slightly. "It's fine, though. I think it's... good. That they're fighting for their country."

The words tasted bitter in my mouth. Saying them out loud made me feel weak, like admitting it was real. A lump rose in my throat, and I couldn't swallow it down. 

I backed up and sank into one of the chairs by the window—the same chair I had stood on earlier to hang the Christmas lights. I stared down at the floor, focusing on the way the mop water pooled around the base of the chair, anything to keep from meeting Nabil's eyes.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, trying to steady my breath. "It's like... everything's about me lately. I don't mean to... I just... I talk too much about it." My words were tumbling over each other now, desperate to fill the air and cover the raw emotion bleeding through.

But Nabil didn't say anything. I could feel him watching me, and it made the silence feel heavier.

Then, out of nowhere, I heard the faint music playing from the radio get louder. I looked up, startled, as Nabil walked over to it, turning the volume up. He wasn't saying anything, just moving with quiet purpose. Before I could figure out what he was doing, he turned back to me and walked across the room.

I blinked as he stopped in front of me, extending a hand. I hesitated, confused, until I realized what he was doing. My heart thudded in my chest. He was asking me to dance.

I froze, my mind racing back to the last time I danced with someone. Sayjan. The memory twisted in my stomach, and for a moment, I couldn't move. But then, to my surprise, Nabil didn't grab my waist. Instead, he placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.

It wasn't what I expected, and maybe that's why it worked. I felt a strange sense of safety in the way he held me, distant but steady. The kind of steadiness I hadn't realized I'd needed.

"Come on," he said softly, his lips curling into a small, encouraging smile. "Just a little slow dance."

I nodded, still unsure, but I let him guide me. The music filled the space, soft and soothing. I placed a hand on his shoulder, and we swayed gently in the middle of the store. It wasn't a proper dance by any means—more like two people moving to the rhythm of their own thoughts. But it didn't matter. For the first time in weeks, the weight on my chest felt just a little lighter.

As we swayed to the music, the space between us seemed to grow smaller with each passing moment. It wasn't just the physical distance—it was the air around us, charged with something I couldn't quite name. I couldn't look away from his eyes, dark and steady, holding me in place as if I was the only thing he could see. There was a warmth in his gaze that seeped into my chest, chasing away the cold that had settled there for so long.