Over and Over

Glacier

MALÉ,
MALDIVES

NARRATORS POV

Hakeem watched the bathroom door slam shut, the sound echoing through the villa.

He exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.

"What am I doing?" he muttered under his breath.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Wasn't she the one supposed to follow me?

Why am I the one following her?

He leaned back in his wheelchair, staring up at the ceiling, frustration bubbling in his chest.

Layla was supposed to be the one struggling, the one affected by him, the one chasing—

Not him.

But here he was, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

She was avoiding him, running every time things got too close, too intense.

And yet—

She never pushed him away.

Not really.

Hakeem let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "I'm losing my mind."

But even as he said it, he knew—

It was too late.

He was already gone.

Layla stood under the warm spray of the shower, hands braced against the tiles, trying to steady her breathing.

The past few days had been too much.

Hakeem was too much.

She had spent so much time resisting, so much time keeping her walls up, but the way he had looked at her today—

Like he wanted her.

Like she was the only thing in the world.

Her stomach twisted.

This was dangerous.

Because deep down, she knew—

If Hakeem ever really tried...

She wouldn't stand a chance.

Layla stayed in the shower longer than necessary, letting the steam wrap around her, hoping it would wash away the tension clinging to her skin.

But it didn't.

Even as she changed into a fresh robe and stepped out of the bathroom, she could still feel the weight of his gaze from earlier, still hear the deep rasp of his voice in her head.

She inhaled deeply, pressing a hand to her chest, trying to steady the wild beating of her heart.

This is not good.

Not when every second around him felt like she was standing on the edge of something dangerous.

Something irreversible.

She needed space.

Distance.

Anything to clear her mind.

But as soon as she stepped into the dimly lit bedroom, she knew—

Hakeem had other plans.

He was there, waiting.

Not in his wheelchair.

But standing.

Leaning slightly on the edge of the bed, his weight supported by one crutch, his other hand resting casually at his side.