Over and Over

Sydney

KANO,
NIGERIA.

NARRATORS POV

Layla's fingers trembled as she pulled her robe back up, covering the scar that had remained hidden for so many years.

Never, in her wildest thoughts, had she imagined that the boy responsible for that night, the boy she had hated in her weakest moments was the same man she had come to love.

Hakeem's chest rose and fell rapidly, his hands clenching at his knees.

He wanted to say something, anything, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

His gaze dropped to her back, where he knew the scar lay just beneath the fabric.

A part of him wanted to reach out, to touch it, to prove to himself that this was real. But how could he? He had put it there.

"You—" His voice cracked, and he shook his head, as if unable to process it. "Layla, I—"

She stood up abruptly, walking toward the massive windows.

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to contain the storm inside.

"You were just a boy," she said after a long pause, her voice unreadable. "It wasn't your fault."

Hakeem flinched. "It was," he said hoarsely. "I was reckless. I shouldn't have been on that bike.

I shouldn't have—" His voice faltered, thick with emotion. He swallowed hard. "I thought I killed you."

Layla turned around, her eyes meeting his.

They were glassy with unshed tears, filled with emotions she didn't even know how to name.

"And I thought you ruined my life." Her voice was soft, but it cut through him like a blade. "I was in the hospital for weeks.

My back, my ribs—" She exhaled shakily. "My parents were devastated.

They didn't even know who hit me. The driver had disappeared before anyone could recognize him."

Hakeem dropped his head into his hands, his fingers gripping his hair.

"I wanted to hate you," Layla admitted. "For years, I did.

I had dreams about it. The rain, the headlights, the impact. I would wake up feeling that same pain."

He lifted his head slightly, his dark eyes filled with torment. "And now?" he whispered.

She didn't answer immediately.

Her heart ached in a way she hadn't expected. She had spent so long despising the faceless boy who had hurt her. But now she knew. She knew.

It was him.

Hakeem.

The same man who held her at night, who kissed her forehead when he thought she was asleep.

The man who made her laugh when she wanted to cry, who had stood by her through all her stubbornness, her walls, her fears.

The man she had fallen in love with.

She inhaled deeply. "And now... I don't know what to feel."

Hakeem stood slowly, walking toward her.

He reached for her hands, but she pulled them away, crossing her arms tightly.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Layla, please..." His voice was barely above a whisper. "Tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this."

Her chin trembled. "You can't fix it, Hakeem."

His face twisted in agony. "Then what?" His voice broke, raw and desperate. "Do you hate me?"