Pretty Isn't Her Name [ABANDONED]

09| Cold as Ice

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After that awkward moment with her husband, Janan prayed and finally — after a conflicted moment between her and her inner self — decided to wait for Ammar. She wanted to chew his ear off for embarrassing her like that, but decided against it since he had left for the mosque.

Eventually, darkness enveloped her.

The serene morning light escaped through a small line between the curtains to shine directly upon her eyes. She opened them reluctantly, feeling somewhat cold despite the duvet covering her. She noticed that Ammar wasn't next to her in bed. A sigh of relief passed her dry lips.

Janan sat up from her lying position, rubbing her weary eyes. They soon bulged out to take in the lit room before her.

'Seriously!? Must they make a big deal out of the master bedroom! How did I not see it earlier?! Maybe because the room was dimly lit and I could barely navigate my way around, but this...this is simply too much!' Her mouth hung ajar as she slid her — cotton pink covered — legs out of the covers to touch the cold tiles.

Janan looked around, but there was no sign of Ammar. "Such a horrible husband." She scratched the braids nestled at the crown of her head, feeling annoyed. What had happened earlier ebbed it's way back into her mind. Chewing the inside of her cheeks, she was about to stand up when she heard the click of a door across the room.

"And what a horrible wife. I even had to wake up before you." Ammar emerged from the door.

Janan scrambled for the sheets to cover her body, raising it to her neck level. Ammar crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow whilst Janan looked away before her eyes wandered onto his figure for too long. But she couldn't help but risk another glance towards his direction.

Ammar was sweating and had a towel around his neck, which meant he just came back from a run. Sweat trickled from his forehead, down to his neck, and disappeared into his clinging, drenched shirt.

Janan swallowed a nervous lump and looked away, yelping when he took off his shirt. Fatima was damn right when she said he was freaking shredded. Janan peeked through her eyelashes to look at the man parading around the room, comfortably shirtless.

"Stop staring, it's rude. Just take a picture and be done with it. I believe I don't need any unnecessary filter." He smugly said, rummaging through the drawers.

"Y-You know that's what the purpose of the walking closet is for, right? How can you be this shameless...?" Janan cursed at herself for stuttering.

Either she imagined it or he chuckled. She decided it was for the best if she brushed it away. She watched as Ammar kept to his business, while she sat awkwardly on the bed.

"Um, I guess I'll go cook breakfast." Janan had lowered the sheets and her leg was out when he spoke.

"No need, the maids have already cooked it. We don't want the house burning." He tried to say nonchalantly, but it seemed like he's trying to hold back his anger as much as possible.