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"Oh, darling. You can't fix yourself by breaking someone else."
Every young woman wants to marry Aryan Sheikh, the young, handsome Prince and a self-made businessman. His eyes are set on Yasmin Omer, the girl who has re...
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Azar Villa – 26th May 2018
SWEAT MIXED WITH her body fragrance. Humidity hung high in the air.
They moved around in circles. Zaynoul is in black sweatpants and T-shirt while Niyah is garbed in her dobok. He threw a swift kick. She blocked it by bending the outside of her leg and raising her knee. It threw him off balance.
"You're too good," Zaynoul praised, panting a little.
Niyah's feet regained the ground. This time he aimed higher, almost touching her sweltering head. She stooped, knocking him down with a leg sweep. Zaynoul let out a grunt, back crashing against the floor. Thumb facing upward in her tight fist, she dropped on a knee aiming for a straight punch on his dreading face.
"I give up," he yelled, palms in the air.
"You are supposed to roll sideways or block," she recapped.
"Pity, please," he begged. "I'm exhausted. I even had football practice in the morning."
Huffing, Niyah stood up. Zaynoul had promised her one hour of practice and they still have more than ten minutes left. She ignored his pain dramatics and grabbed her water bottle. It's empty.
Tying her hair again in a tight ponytail, she headed out of the stinky room and walked towards the stairs. Two steps down, she stopped in her track, lips parted in a silent surprise.
Her twin brother is standing in the living room, arms wrapped around the petite body of a sobbing Myra. He ran his hand through her hair. More tears escaped her eyes.
"I'm here now, don't cry." He comforted.
By then tears had stained his denim shirt. He kissed her head and pulled her cheeks.
"You haven't changed much except you've got chubby cheeks now."
"They are not," she retaliated and he shuffled her hair.
Heart thumping, Niyah took a deep breath. Her gaze landed on an unfamiliar woman standing beside her mother, admiring the beautiful reunion with a gentle smile. She walked down and her presence is announced by Myra.
"Look who's here, Niyah."
Nayir approached, taking in her disheveled look and stained outfit. Hundreds of questions roamed in his eyes. Most of which could be resentment or fatigue of being her shadow. He opted for a formal handshake instead.
"How are you?"
Pretty straightforward like he's meeting a foreigner – Niyah gaped at his hand and shook it firm.
