Another Shot at Forever, page 11
“You didn’t want that,” she said, intuiting his mind.
Astonished, Ara recovered and bobbed his head solemnly. “One night, I’d gone to a new restaurant with some friends. The chef and owner was an older local man who had spent many years traveling the globe, and all in the pursuit of his culinary calling. The food he made for us that night,” he groaned softly at the memory, licking his lips.
Zaynab laughed. “So, that’s who I have to thank for all the good food you’ve been making me.”
“I’d say he was more the spark. After that night, and that experience, I started practicing in the kitchen on my own. My parents were proud especially. They’d often get me to cook when they had company over for dinner. At least they were proud until I announced that I wanted to take a year’s break from my business program. Then, almost overnight, they retracted their support.”
Zaynab squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
There was more he could have said, but Ara left it at, “Even though I couldn’t see it fully then, I now understand where they were coming from. They were just worried about what would happen to their business legacy.
“And after they died, it seemed the natural course for me to take up their mantle.” More than that it had felt imperative to him. Like if he worked hard on the company’s behalf, toiled in enough sweat and sacrificed enough of his personal life, that he’d make amends to them.
That they’d forgive him wherever they were.
That I’d be able to forgive myself...
“The first Eid without them, I tried for Anisa’s sake to be cheery and normal.”
“But you couldn’t,” Zaynab said, completing his thought. She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand, leaning in. “It’s okay. I’m not judging you. No one in their right mind would, Ara. You were young, you just lost your parents and now you had to step up and be your whole family to your sister. Honestly, I’d have fallen apart.”
He nearly had too. The first few years were the worst. On top of being Anisa’s primary caregiver, juggling his schooling while sitting in on company meetings and learning the ropes from some of his parents’ most trusted executives, it was almost too much for an eighteen-year-old to handle.
“I didn’t have time for my friends, barely had time to myself, and so with each year I found less of a reason for Eid.” And when Anisa eventually learned to stop asking him to take her to the Eid festivities happening in town, and she’d slip away with friends instead, Ara had retired from celebrating.
Until now, he thought, looking at Zaynab and acknowledging that it was her who’d given him a new outlook on the holiday.
“Today has been...illuminating. I forgot how Eid could be.” At least what Eid was like when one was surrounded by the love of family, friends and community.
Ara smiled at her, the weight that had been pressing down on him mysteriously lighter now. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have said she cured him.
But he realized that he’d done that on his own. By talking to her, he surmised. Letting out some of his most consuming thoughts and easing his burden.
He looked down at Zaynab’s hand on his, knowing in his heart that she was one of the people he cared most for.
* * *
Never had Zaynab imagined that she’d have a chance to spend Eid with Ara. Certainly not with their divorce looming over their heads. Then again, she also never dreamed that she would be twenty-two weeks pregnant and counting. So she supposed life had thrown her quite a few curveballs lately.
Living with him again had been a concern, but Zaynab could now see she’d worried in vain. Ara was nothing like the cold, distant version she’d gotten of him the first time they had moved in together. Now he was spending time with her, opening up to her about himself and his past, and being vulnerable in this sweetly trusting way that had her heart and mind all twisted up with thoughts of him.
Thoughts that were heating up her body and making her want to shrug off her blazer and flap a hand over her blushing cheeks.
She’d always been physically attracted to Ara. And though that was what first hooked her when she met him, she’d stuck around because she had seen glimpses of unbridled passion lurking inside him. Not the zeal that she had seen him direct at his business, but a hunger that he starved and kept caged away deep within.
Zaynab had known it was there, and it was also ultimately why she had married him, yet she hadn’t gotten to feel its full brunt until he’d kissed her and consummated their marriage for the first time.
And now, besides carrying the consequence of that powerful ardor of his, there existed this hole in her brimming with longing.
When she wasn’t tiptoeing around it, she was flat-out resisting her yearning for him.
Ara seemed clueless, and she mostly preferred it that way, except for when she wondered if he felt anything of what she was feeling.
Zaynab peeked under her lashes up at him, looking for any obvious signs that pointed to him wanting her.
They were standing on the footpath, beneath the blooming magnolia in front of their home, their car and driver having only just dropped them off. Ara’s hand closed around her arm, stopping her from pushing through their front gate.
Turning very slowly to face him, and seeing how close he was to her now, she smiled nervously.
There was a charged current in the air, like a storm crackling warningly even though the sky was beautifully clear.
Her mother was staying with her and Ara, but she’d told them to head home without her and that Salma’s parents, whom she’d bumped into at the festival, would be driving her home later.
Zaynab was glad for that now as Ara crowded her against the wrought iron gate, his hand moving up, long, agile fingers curling under her chin and tipping her head back. Oddly, despite the lovely early spring weather, they were alone out on the footpath. And so not a soul would have witnessed when Ara stroked his thumb along her bottom lip, his brown eyes never softer and warmer than right that instant.
“I had a good day,” he said, his voice husky and low.
“Did you? I’m glad,” she chirped, not knowing what else to say, his touch having apparently fried her brain.
“Thank you.”
“For?” she squeaked.
“Today. For reminding me what Eid could feel like again.”
She was still a little speechless, but she managed to whisper, “You’re welcome,” right before her brain actually shorted on her. Because Ara’s thumb stilled on her lower lip as he pulled in and kissed her forehead, his warm mouth like a searing brand to remind her of this moment forever.
Zaynab hadn’t even thought she’d closed her eyes until she opened them at the feel of Ara pulling back. But all he’d done was move his hand over to frame her cheek. Her disappointment didn’t last too long as Ara flicked his powerful gaze to her lips, and a second later, he slowly inched his head lower. And unlike when they were at the masjid, and it seemed to her that he had intended to kiss her then, this time nothing and no one interrupted them. The only thing that stood between them was the short time it took for his mouth to seal hotly over hers.
He kissed her with that hidden hunger she’d married him for, and though she sensed he was holding back, there was nevertheless a passion in the way his lips and tongue stroked hers, and a longing from how his arms wrapped around her and hauled her against him.
She didn’t think anything could pry her apart from him.
No, nothing could make her want to break away from the fierceness of his kiss.
Absolutely nothing—
Ara ripped back from her, breathing hard and touching his forehead to hers. “We shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have...” He broke off and gnashed his teeth, drawing back from her and jerkily lowering his hands off her burning face, as though touching her had scalded him.
“I don’t want to compromise your iddah, Zaynab. That kiss... Any intimacy would ruin it.”
His rational explanation pressed pause on her humiliation. Now she understood why he was suddenly acting skittish.
“I understand,” she said, still winded from their deep kiss.
“For now, let’s just pretend it didn’t happen.” As he said that though, the heat from earlier crept back into his eyes.
Zaynab gazed back at him, and the butterflies trapped in her ribcage whirled about and smacked into her rabbiting heart. She tried to reconcile this man in front of her with the man who had driven her to ask for a divorce.
The same man who her criminal father had accused of spying on him.
She knew why she’d married Ara...
But is that why he married me? To use her to spy on her father.
A new ache manifested in her then. This one begging for her to ask Ara if any of that was true. Was their marriage ever real to him at any point?
Instead of voicing her doubt out loud, Zaynab shoved it back into the dark corner of her mind where it had a semipermanent home and where it couldn’t interfere with this happy little moment.
CHAPTER TEN
ZAYNAB WAS SURE she could name several positives of being pregnant, but not when she was getting up every other hour to go relieve herself.
Groaning loudly, she kicked out of her bedsheets and drew up to a seat, feeling blindly for her slippers and shuffling to the ensuite.
Of course when she slipped back into bed was when her stomach chose to grumble incessantly. Knowing there was no point in trying to go back to sleep, she left her bed again and walked zombie-like to her bedroom door. At one in the morning, she expected the house to be quiet. Even though Ara had been working more these past few weeks, and sometimes well into the night, he’d be in his office on the ground floor, and so any noises he might have made wouldn’t bother her where she slept on the third and topmost floor of their home.
Naturally, Zaynab tensed as what sounded to her like a muffled moan broke the peaceful hush and froze her in her tracks.
But the hallway was empty, the wall sconces dimmed and casting shadows.
There were three other bedrooms on that floor. Two were empty, but the third one, at the front of the hall and closest to the stairs was Ara’s bedroom. The door was always closed to his room, and she’d only ever been in there once since they had moved in together over three months ago. And though she wanted to respect his privacy, when she heard another faint noise coming from that vicinity, Zaynab walked slowly to his room.
As she did, two thoughts struck her. Either Ara had called it an early night, or it wasn’t him at all and a burglar had broken in...
Ara wouldn’t make it easy for any burglar.
Zaynab snorted softly, allaying her fears quickly. With all the measures he’d taken to safeguard the house for them, she couldn’t help but feel a little bad for any thief who targeted them.
In front of his bedroom door, Zaynab hesitated and lowered the hand she had raised to knock. She didn’t want to go barging in there and alarm him for no reason. Worse, he could be fast asleep, tired from all the work he was doing. Suddenly, it seemed silly to wake him simply because she’d heard a strange noise or two, especially since she now noticed whatever it was had stopped making the sound.
Just as she began chalking it up to her sleep-addled brain hallucinating the whole thing, Zaynab stilled as the noise rose up again. She pressed her ear to Ara’s door, and holding her breath, she listened.
There! Another moan—or maybe it was a groan?—pressured her into deciding.
That’s it. I’m going in there.
Because naked or not, his well-being was important to her. She wouldn’t ever forgive herself if he had injured himself and she didn’t check to see whether he needed help.
Grasping his door handle, Zaynab knew the door would open. He’d once told her that she could come fetch him at any time during the night if she required him. But right then it was Ara who needed her, and so she was relieved that he’d had the forethought of leaving his bedroom unlocked.
She squinted into the darkness, waiting for her eyes to adjust a little before she treaded inside.
The moaning was much louder now that she was in the room with him. Without the door muffling the noise, she could make out the distressed notes in his groans.
“Ara?” she called out softly. Emboldened by her own bravery as she crept closer to the bed, she raised her voice. “Ara? Wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”
At least that was what she supposed was happening.
She could see his shadowy form in the bed and moved closer, trying to see if he was facing her direction or not. Resisting the urge to turn back and flick on the bedroom lights, she gripped the edge of the bed, leaned in and called his name once more.
He grunted in answer and shifted in his sleep.
“Ara—” Zaynab’s breath hitched when he suddenly flopped onto his back, his hand fisting his sheets, and even though she couldn’t see his face, she could hear the contorted pain in his rasping breaths. Whatever demons were chasing him in his dreams, they appeared to be catching up and fast.
She didn’t know what made her do it, but she reached out and touched his hand, caressing the tension from his knuckles.
It seemed to be working. In his sleep, Ara relaxed, his hand loosening over the bedsheets and his breathing evening out. She smiled, happy to have brought him some comfort. And for a while she was content to stand guard and protect him from the worst of his terrors. But once Zaynab thought to slip away and let him get some rest, he turned his hand around and caught her wrist, startling her into almost screaming out.
When her heart rate returned to normal, she tried to gently pull away, and when that didn’t work, she attempted to pry his fingers off her wrist.
About to just pinch the back of his hand and wake him when he started murmuring, she stopped trying to break free and listened as the incoherent mumbling turned into words.
“Stop... Don’t... Not them... Hooyo... No, no, don’t... No, aabo...”
Realizing he was dreaming of his parents gave the nightmare context. Zaynab went still, the fight to force his hand off her arm no longer a priority, and her heart twisting in her chest for him, knowing she could never rescue him from the terror of his past. Ara’s hand squeezed tighter, his grasp moving into bone-crushing territory very quickly.
“Ara!” she cried out and slapped the back of his hand before digging in her nails and hoping that did the trick.
“Zaynab?”
Hearing him say her name in confusion didn’t let up the pain he was unknowingly inflicting on her.
“You’re crushing my hand!” she yelped through gritted teeth.
Immediately, his fingers went lax over her wrist in response. Slipping out of his hold and clutching her throbbing hand to her chest, she saw him move in the dark, his bulkier shadow shifting over to the side a few seconds before the room was bathed in soft, white light.
She blinked rapidly, wishing he’d have warned her first.
Once her eyes adjusted to the change in lighting, she saw him leaning back against his headboard, shirtless, the remote controlling his room lights in his hands and a darkly questioning look lasered on her.
“What are you doing?”
“You were having a nightmare. I just came in to check on you, and then you started squeezing my hand really hard.” She winced as she prodded her wrist, sensing a bruise in her near future. “Remind me not to try waking you again,” she muttered, blushing and looking away when his piercing stare bored into her. Then in the silence, she shuffled a couple steps back to the open bedroom door, wondering if she could make a smooth exit.
Before she could try, Ara drew off his bedclothes in a flourish, revealing that he hadn’t been sleeping in the nude.
Still his black silk pajama bottoms left little to the imagination. And hers was happily spinning out fantasies as he closed the distance to her in a few long strides.
He held out his hand to her.
Understanding what he wanted, Zaynab slowly pulled out her arm to him and allowed Ara to take her hand.
“Easy,” she said with a grimace as his fingers gently brushed over the now tender underside of her wrist.
She had been annoyed with him until she saw his brows furrow and his lips thin in what looked to her to be a mix of regret and concern. And she certainly heard it smacking in his low tone as he observed, “I’ve hurt you.”
“No, I’m fine, really. I just bruise easily is all.”
“We have to ice this now,” Ara said, not having shifted the blame off himself and taking immediate action to remedy his mistake.
* * *
“Hold the ice there, and I’ll just grab the ointment.”
After leaving her with those instructions, Ara moved fast to the cloakroom, grabbed the first aid kit and headed back to where Zaynab was waiting for him in the kitchen.
Glad to see that she was listening and holding the ice pack to her wound, he moved to stand beside her rather than take the other stool at the kitchen peninsula. He didn’t deserve comfort, not after what he’d done to her. Even before she’d revealed her unhappiness and asked for a divorce, Ara had suspected he could hurt her, but he never thought that threat to her could be physical.
But as he took a deep breath, and gently pulled the towel-wrapped ice pack off her hand, he came face-to-face with the pain he caused her.
Reddened flesh ringed her wrist and glared up at Ara accusingly.
I did that to her...
He forced his hands from clenching into fists, keeping them steady while he opened the first aid kit and pulled out the anti-inflammatory salve he needed from it.
