Irrevocably

32 | The Complexities of Relationships

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Hooriya

While my youngest sibling was facing romantic drama, I was adjusting to living with a man who was not my direct biological family. I suppose honeymoon was different, as we were in a different location, in a different country.

But now we were home, our home. We were sharing a bedroom- something I'd only ever done with Haya before, and only when we were kids.

I uncapped a men's cologne and sprayed some onto myself. I breathed in deeply. "Well, that's one benefit of living with a guy." I grinned at my reflection in the mirror.

I'd been picky about the side of bed I slept on, and he hadn't argued regarding that since he didn't really care. He'd given me an entire wardrobe for my stuff, but a lot of our clothes were still in one wardrobe together, and it was still odd seeing my clothes hung beside male outfits. The dressing table- newly installed- was filled with my minimal make-up, perfumes, his colognes and aftershaves, and often his watch was found on it. 

But then there were other things. Like the water on the floor after he'd showered. Haya and I used to share a bathroom, and both of us were particular about drying up the water on the floor. Haya had been worse regarding that matter, since she was worried about injuries that would impact her cricket. So every time I entered the bathroom after Farhaan had a shower, I groaned internally.

But I supposed both of us were adjusting. Once he went into the bathroom after I'd had a shower and had found my bra on the door knob. I tended to put in on after a while as it was harder to wear it on wet/damp skin, and I had forgotten it in there- having just pulled on a shirt and exiting the bathroom. He'd come in the doorway, holding it up with a grin on his face. "Sorry, this isn't my size." He had joked.

And then there were moments when I felt relieved to have him by my side. Like when I got a bad dream, I just turned and snuggled into his arms. Feeling his strong arms around me gave me a sense of unimaginable comfort.

One sunny morning, I was in the living room, squeezing my novels into the bookshelf that mainly housed Farhaan's business management books. I had learnt that, despite the family wealth, the man of mine lived in a relatively modest place, and there was only a place for one bookshelf around here. I wasn't complaining though. I didn't care. I was happy, either way. I sat cross-legged on the floor, barely managing to fit in the last book on the bottom shelf. The 'bookshelf' itself only had two shelves, whereas the top surface was a table on which currently rested a glass vase that I'd placed red roses in.

"Hoor!"

I jumped at the sound of his voice. I had been home alone, arranging things around the flat and adjusting my own things. So far, the place seemed sufficiently Hoorified, as Haya would say. "Yes?" 

Farhaan walked into the room. "Assalam Alaikum."

"Walaikum Assalam." I glanced at him over my shoulder.

His eyebrows furrowed. "I think we need to replace that with a bigger bookshelf."

"It's fine. I'll manage." 

He came around and crouched down beside me. "Hoor, that man is in police custody- the one who almost ran you and Haya over."

"Tahira's stepfather?" 

He nodded. "Your father and I just spoke to the police regarding this."

"Now let the law deal with it. I'd rather focus on the fact that my twin sister saved my life." I whispered, my gaze fixed on the books that were now all lined up on the shelves.