I Chose You💕

XVII.

XVII.
Mikhail's POV.

I remember I missed one class in review school because I woke up late. It was an important class so I decided to crash in another classroom which us having that said class so I could catch up. The classroom was crowded and it took me a while to find a vacant seat which is beside a covered girl. I didn't have the time to hesitate whether to take it or not since I was desperate to take the class. Hesitate because I'm not an idiot, I know how conservative these kinds of girls are. No touching, that sort of stuff. But I took a mental note not to touch her or anything.

I saw how surprised she was that I took the seat. I had no idea why - it couldn't be because someone had already occupied the seat because she would have told me right away, right? Besides, nobody claimed the seat until the end of class. But there's a little part of me that thought she might have recognized me from somewhere.

I shrugged it off, getting it a lot. My face is totally remarkable, girls would come up to me and say..."Have we met before? You look familiar..." Yeah, I know. So, anyway, I ignored her, since she didn't have any plan to ask me that overused question. She never looked my way, in fact.

Moving on, I saw a lot of her during the next few days. I often see her studying in a corner or staying late in one of the classrooms along with other reviewees who were also studying (I'm one of them! 😏 Well, sometimes.). I saw her talking to some of my friends, too.

Which brings me...

I dialled one of those friends' number and waited impatiently for him to answer. When he finally did, I wasted no time.

"No, I just have something to ask," I said to Kirby, that friend, on the phone.

"And here I thought you missed me," said Kirby. He was one of those guys who preferred guys over girls. He's few of the friends I made during review school.

"I did," I said smoothly. "But I also have something to ask you."

"Hn, fire away," he said.

"Remember that girl you started hanging out with during review school? She has face cover? You had a table tennis match with her. I saw you," I said. I had checked the leisure room if there were people and found Kirby and the girl with face cover having an intense match on table tennis.

It amazed me, of course.

"Oh, yes, Ken. Why?" He inquired. My heart leapt at the confirmation that it was her indeed.

"As in Kenzie?" I confirmed just to be sure.

"Yeah, Kenzie. Why?" He asked, getting impatient by his tone.

Suddenly, a grin crept in my face. I failed to answer his question.

"Now that I remembered, she had asked your name once, you know," he continued.

My grin grew wider. "She did?"

"Uh-huh. I had teased her about it but she said she only wants to find out your name, that's all," he answered. "She seemed like a girl who doesn't know the word 'flirting' so I let it go. She's a very nice girl, Mike, in contrast to our impression about the way she dresses and where she came from."

Typical. People from the south and my religion have always been stereotyped by people from the north.

"She is," I replied, smiling to no one. "Oh, so you are the culprit," I realized.

"What culprit? What have I done?" He sounded alarmed.

I let out a chuckle, realizing she got my name from him. "Thank you," I found myself saying.

"What? You are so weird right now, Mikeyyy, tell me," said Kirby.

"I got married to her, Kirby," I confessed. "Alright, talk to you soon."

"Wait, what?! When?! Why didn't you tell anybody?" He asked.

"I just did," I said. "Bye."

"Wait, where is she? Let me see her again!"

"Bye, Kirby."

I hung up with a smile on my face. I had known her all along. I just didn't recognize her.

That's something.

She wouldn't have talked to me back then and I doubt she ever will if we hadn't got married. She's that one girl I wanted to approach but I couldn't, seeing as I understood that girls like her were not the type who'd talk to guys freely. It had intrigued me how she became friends with my friends. How she kind of popped up randomly in rooms I went to. How she was so kind to her other reviewmates, I once saw she's giving colorful ballpens as souvenir. How she picked nice shoes even though her black dress hide them.

I looked at her side of the bed. I grabbed her pillow and hugged it to myself. It smelled of her and her shampoo.

How could I have let go of such gem?

How could I have acted that way to her when all she wanted was to be a dutiful wife? She had chosen to wait for me just so she could get my permission to visit her mother. What if it was death? Would she have waited for me?

I think she will.

And I hated myself for that. I hated myself that I stayed out late. That I couldn't be there for her. That I couldn't even give her the slightest attention.

Did she regret marrying me? I had wanted her to realize that, to regret ever coming up with this. So that, she herself would give up and leave me. But she insisted on being patient and staying with me. And I know now, I didn't want her to leave. Without her, I feel empty. She had brought me a step closer to God and I slowly understood how she is important to me.

I can't lose her.

I bolted from my lying position and proceeded to bring out the duffel bag.

🌾🌾🌾

I was nervous when I knocked on the door. I could hear her faint voice from the outside. She was reading the Qur'an so she might not be the one to open the door. But I hope it would be her. I wanted to see her first and foremost.

After some time, the door opened. And my prayers were answered when it was her behind the door. My breath hitched at the sight of her, so much light illuminating on her bare face.

It would be something she'd say, "Maa shaa Allah."

"Assalamu'alaikom," I muttered before I could even make a fool out of myself.

She was surprised to see me. "Wa'alaikumussalaam."

Is it going to be weird if I hug her? Nah, it is going to be weird.

I just wish she wouldn't only gape at me. You know how those girls do it in movies? Jump at their man when they get reunited and hug the life out of him?

Nah. That would be too much, I guess. I've done bad things to her, I don't deserve it.

"Who's that?" I recognized Khadijah's voice, her sister.

Kenzie blocked the open space. "Your scarf, sis. It's Mikhail."

There was some movement inside. "What?" Asked Khadijah.

Finally, Kenzie removed herself from the door.

"Oh, well, what are you doing not letting your husband in?" Asked Khadijah, who's now covered.

For the first time, I witnessed Kenzie fumble. "Y-yeah, come in," she said. "I, uh, wasn't expecting you'd come."

I saw Khadijah roll her eyes up, stopping a smirk from comig out. "You almost caught her stalking your Instagram."

Kenzie's eyes widened at her sister's revelation. And I would have laughed at it, and maybe tease her about it, had I not remembered what's in my Instagram.

Shortly after, as if she got reminded at the mention of it, Kenzie avoided my eyes, the look of betrayal painted on her face.

She saw that tagged photo.

🌾🌾🌾

Ouch. 😨 What are you gonna do now, Mr.?

Don't forget to hit vote! Thank you! --c.rose