Over and Over

Byte

KANO,
NIGERIA.

LAYLA'S POV

I lingered at the table long after Hakeem left, replaying his words in my mind.

"I think we owe it to ourselves to make the best of it." Easy for him to say.

He wasn't the one whose entire life had been uprooted, whose heart had been left in pieces.

I could still remember the look on my parents' faces when they announced Hakeem's proposal—a mix of pride, relief, and expectation.

The same faces that turned stony when I hesitated, when I dared to utter a protest.

And now here I was, trapped in a marriage I never asked for with a man I couldn't read.

And yet, as much as I wanted to resent him, I couldn't shake the memory of last night—his quiet reassurance, his gaze that seemed to strip away my defenses.

I sighed, pushing my chair back.

There was no use dwelling on it.

The house was quiet as I wandered down the hall, its grandeur almost oppressive.

I found myself gravitating toward the study, my curiosity about Hakeem pulling me forward despite myself.

The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear his voice inside.

He was speaking on the phone, his tone calm and measured, but there was a sharpness to his words that hinted at tension.

"No, I don't regret my decision," he said, his voice clipped. "But that doesn't mean it's been easy. You don't know her like I do."

My breath hitched.

He was talking about me.

I took a step back, intending to leave, but the floor creaked beneath my foot.

The door swung open, and Hakeem stood there, his expression unreadable.

"Eavesdropping, Layla?" he asked, his tone laced with mockery.

"I wasn't—" I started, but he held up a hand, silencing me.

He stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter. "Since you're here, why don't you join me?"

Reluctantly, I stepped into the study. The room was warm and inviting, with shelves of books lining the walls and a large desk cluttered with papers.

Hakeem closed the door behind me, his gaze never leaving mine.

"Who were you talking to?" I asked, crossing my arms defensively.

"My brother," he said simply, leaning against the desk. "He has... opinions about our arrangement."

I narrowed my eyes. "And what did you tell him?"

"The truth."

"And what's that?"

"That marrying you was the right decision."

His words hung in the air, and I felt my cheeks flush with a mix of anger and something I couldn't quite name.

"You had no right," I said, my voice trembling. "You had no right to decide that for me. To force me into this."

Hakeem's jaw tightened, and for the first time, I saw a crack in his composure.

"I didn't force you into anything, Layla," he said, his voice low and steady. "Your parents made the decision, just like mine did.

I simply..." He trailed off, running a hand through his hair.