Life Without You✔️.

46: Suspicious Glances & Soft Confessions

Bibi's POV
Abuja, Nigeria.

Yaya Nabil texted me at noon on a Thursday.

"Can we talk?" I blinked at the message, the back of my mind already whispering one name, Fayha.

I replied and told him to come by after Asr. Ayman was out at a meeting, and I knew we'd have enough time before he returned.

By the time Yaya Nabil arrived, I had mint tea brewing and slices of warm banana bread cooling on the rack. I don't know—hospitality just felt like muscle memory now. I'd become that wife.

"Inna wuni," I greeted as I opened the door.

"Lafiya lau, Alhamdulilah. How are you and Ayman?" he asked as he stepped inside.

"We're both fine, Alhamdulilah," I replied.

"Wow, smells like Pinterest in here."

I rolled my eyes. "And you smell like trouble sir. Sit."

He dropped onto the couch, the kind of casual that tried too hard not to be nervous. His hands kept fidgeting with the edge of his sleeves. His eyes flicked to mine, then away. Then back again.

"So," I said, passing him a cup. "You saw her."

He blinked. "Saw who?"

I stared.

"Okay, okay," he said, exhaling. "Yeah. I saw her. Fayha."

"And?"

He leaned back into the cushions, like his whole body was exhaling. "She's... different."

"Different how?"

"I don't know. She's funny, but not in that loud, look-at-me way. She's chill. But sharp. I didn't even know I liked that combo." He looked down into his tea. "And the way she talks—it's like she actually listens before she replies."

"You mean she's not like the girls you usually flirt with at weddings."

He gave me a deadpan look. "Bibi, I don't flirt at weddings. You're thinking of Marwan. I'm the ghost that disappears before the group pictures."

"Fair."

I smiled quietly, watching him. There was a softness around his edges that hadn't been there before. A quietness I wasn't used to.

"You're not scared?" I asked.

"Terrified," he admitted. "But not of her. Of me."

That made me pause. "What do you mean?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the rug. "You know what our father was like."

I nodded gently. Our father had been a man who wore his flaws like medals. Angry, dismissive and abusive. His shadow had been heavy on Yaya Nabil's shoulders, even after everything. And it showed.

"There's a part of me that keeps wondering if I'm wired the same way," Nabil said quietly. "What if I get close to her and I ruin everything? What if I turn out cold, or detached, or angry? What if I don't know how to love the right way?"

I reached across the coffee table and stilled his hand with mine.

"You are nothing like him. You've spent your whole life trying not to be."

"But what if trying isn't enough?"

"Yaya Nabil, wallahi, she's not the one who needs to be convinced. You are."

He was silent for a moment. His thumb grazed the edge of his cup.

"And even if I did have the guts," he murmured, "how do I even approach her? She's Ayman's sister. I don't think he'll want her to be with someone like me. And me? I don't even know how to start a conversation without sounding like a confused article of furniture."