It's been three days to Feef being brought to Mustafa's house in Sydney. Mustafa had flown them from Bendigo to Melbourne and then to Sydney the very night after she got divorced by Dan.
Feef barely registered the sound of the door creaking open—her world had gone quiet long ago. She didn’t even flinch when the tray clattered onto the side table. Mustafa stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowing as they swept over her motionless figure curled on the bed. She hadn’t moved since last night, not even to lift the untouched food he’d brought her.
“Enough,” his voice cracked through the silence like a whip. “Get up. Eat.”
She didn’t respond. Her face, pale and streaked with dried tears, remained turned to the wall.
In three long strides, he was beside her. He grabbed her by the arm—not cruelly, but firmly—and pulled her to a sitting position.
“I said eat.”
Feef’s body sagged like a puppet with cut strings. “I’m not hungry.”
“You’ll need your strength,” he said flatly. “You have a marriage to attend to.”
Her eyes widened. “What? Have you gone insane? No..."
"Well I didn't ask for your opinion. I was informing you about it."
"No, I can’t—I’m still in iddat. I can't and I will not. This is absurd. I just got divorced, my parents don't even know about it. It is not possible."
“It is possible,” he cut in, eyes gleaming with that familiar mixture of ice and fire. “And you will do it. I will make sure of it.”
Feef shook her head, a surge of panic rising in her chest. “I won’t. I won’t do it. It’s wrong. A Nikkah can't happen without my wali. My dad doesn't know about it and he will definitely not give permission for my marriage with you." She tried to reason with him.
"Well we don't need your dad's permission because it is gonna be a court marriage. You are old enough to consent to it."
"This is ridiculous. I’m still in iddat, Mustafa. I can’t marry you. It’s against everything. What would people say? What would my family think? No this is insane...”
Mustafa held up his phone.
The screen lit up with a grainy live feed—Dan. Alone. Walking along a quiet street with his hands stuffed in his pockets, looking like a ghost of himself. Behind him, not too far, a black car trailed slowly. Feef’s breath caught in her throat.
“You think this is a game?” Mustafa’s voice was deathly calm. “My men have eyes on him day and night. If you don't sign those papers and marry me by noon tomorrow, Feef, I’ll have them put a bullet in his skull before the sun sets.”
She stared at him, her eyes wide with shock, disbelief etched across her face. Her breath caught in her throat as her lips trembled, barely able to form words. “You… you promised me. You said if I did what you wanted, you’d leave him alone.”
Mustafa’s gaze was cold, unflinching, as he took a step closer. “I did promise that. And I’ll keep my word—he’ll stay safe… as long as you follow through.”
Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms, her voice rising with raw anger. “You… manipulative bastard! I hate you!”
He smiled, the expression devoid of warmth. “Hate me all you want. But if you want me to honor my promise, you’ll do exactly as I say. No more defiance. No more games.”
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She flinched, swatting his hand away. Mustafa’s smile faltered, his jaw tightening, and in a heartbeat, his eyes darkened. He stepped forward, forcing her to look up at him.
YOU ARE READING
Latte Or Mocha
ChickLit"I..I nee..d to leave," she said trembling trying really hard to hide her fear as he inched closer towards her. He cut the phone call and an unknown emotion flashed in his eyes before it was masked away. "I... I did..not... see anything, ple...ase...
