A Match Made In Jannah

Chapter 53

MAARIAH'S POV

"I'm sorry Nabeel," I sobbed. He removed his shoes and stepped onto the carpet. I shrank away and tried to squeeze myself into the corner of the room. My chest hugged my knees and the tears that had been falling continuously for the past few hours continued to flow onto my abaya and trickle down onto the floor.

"I just came to see how you were, okay? You need to get back," Nabeel replied gruffly. I tried to speak but the effects of my crying played on my voice. I hiccuped as I spoke.
"It's okay Nabeel. I'll sort myself out. This place is a good place to stay the night. You... You... Don't need to worry."

He paced up and down the room, and stopped occasionally to stare at me. I became engrossed in watching his movements. His long legs had a certain elegant stride with every step he took and his floppy golden-brown hair bounced when he walked. Every time he looked at me, those soft hazel eyes would peer into my soul, not piercingly like they described in movies, but so gently that it made shivers run up your spine and a fire burn in your heart. I wondered if my baby boy would have the same casual yet elegant air as his father. I wondered if the human life that I carried in my womb would one day stare up at me with soft hazel eyes while I combed his golden brown hair.

Nabeel stopped after a while, seated himself on the carpet and closed his eyes. Occasionally his eyelids would flutter open and he would take long, deliberate glances in my direction. I blushed. "What are you looking at?" I asked self-consciously.

"Nothing. Just..." he stopped and began to breathe heavily. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm I had been all too familiar with.

"Just?" I probed.

"I was just thinking about the baby. Whether it - he - she - would have your curls. If it would have your eyes. Maybe it will have your smile. I hope it has your smile," he said, a smile on his own face.

Immediately he realised his mistake and forced the grin off his face. He stood up abruptly and pulled me to my feet. "Come on, we need to get you somewhere tonight."

"Don't take me back home. My parents don't want me there. They'll hate you," I pleaded.

He shook his head and led me to his car, where he opened the door like a true gentleman. "Get in. I'm not taking you home. You'll stay at a hotel."

We drove in silence until we neared Morningville. Just outside the town, there was a cluster of hotels and motels for tourists who needed to spend the night before continuing on their journey. Very few of them were fancy, and because of the remote location, they were all expensive, even the dilapidated, crumbling buildings.

I pointed to a random motel. The walls were creeping with ivy and the window sills were wooden, splintered pieces. "That one. I'm sorry for making you pay for this. I'll... I'll pay you whenever I can," I fumbled around with the seatbelt. The motel looked affordable and supposedly comfortable enough for me. Nabeel shook his head and continued to drive until we came to a fancy, business hotel. Two armed men stood sentry guard at the door, and the fountains outside sparkled in luminous colours. We entered the hotel, and with a few words of negotiation, Nabeel had a room booked for me. He hummed to himself as he opened up the room door and led me to my temporary hotel room.

The place far exceeded my expectations. A box of Ferreros were laid out on the crisp white duvet, and a smart flat screen TV sat at the front. The little bar fridge contained all sorts of wonderful sodas and juices, and Nabeel told me to help myself, as well as to order anything I fancied from room service. When I denied the favour with a curt nod, he was quick to confirm that this was not for me but for his baby.

I expected him to leave then, but he looked at me as he left and told me that he would be right next door if I needed him.

"Nabeel, shouldn't you go home? Your parents will be worried. Besides, it will be suspicious if you're in the same hotel as me."

"No one needs to know. You and I, we don't need to talk. I'm here in case anything happens. I'm here for the baby. What do you think, Maariah? That just because our baby was conceived out of wedlock, I'm going to abandon it? Don't you know me at all? If you did, you'd know that I'd never turn my back on something that is mine, and that baby is mine. He'll know his father and he'll be raised with love and affection from me. Understood?" he asked. "Call if you need me," Nabeel added as he exited.

Just moments after he had disappeared out of the door, I muttered, "You turned your back on me though," and tried to stifle the sobs that sought to escape my throat. Why was I so emotional?

All night long, I waited for Nabeel to return to my room. I waited for the turn of the door handle and the soft patter of his feet. I yearned for the velvet of his skin. I longed for the golden hues of his eyes. Yet most of all, I needed the the passionate, hungry love that burnt like a fire in his touch and his heart.

He did not come.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I'm sorry guys for not updating

Make dua for me (and Maariah, who is in quite the predicament) during these last odd nights.

In Sha Allah I'll update more often.

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