Dare You To Love Me

«2» a fragile balance

Sneaking in and out of the gates of Bako Manor without being spotted by any of the dozen guards on rotation or the CCTV camera was an act Yaseerah had perfected over the years – a skill born out of desperation more than necessity.

Her footsteps were soundless as she made her way through the well-worn path that led to Mamu's cottage, using the cover of trees to her advantage.

The path was littered with fallen leaves and debris–a world different from the well-tended gardens of the Manor–but the clutter didn't bother her.

Instead, with every step away from the well-tended gardens of the Bako Manor and towards the cottage hidden from view of the public eye, Yaseerah could feel her heart getting calmer, and her mind getting clearer.

The Bako Manor, with its imposing facade, meticulously polished interiors–which were always cold, exuding an eerie silence often broken by her father's booming voice or the echoes of footsteps on the polished marble floors–had always felt suffocating to Yaseerah and paled in comparison to the humble cottage that Mamu and Bilal shared.

Aesthetically, the cottage had nothing on the manor, but when it came to how homey a place made one feel, the cottage would always top the manor in Yaseerah's books.

The distant hum of an engine beyond the trees drew Yaseerah's attention briefly, but she dismissed it, too consumed by her thoughts about the encounter at the stables to give it any thought.

Fulan still lingered in her thoughts, leaving her off-kilter as she wound her way through the familiar paths toward the secluded house.

But the apprehension was momentarily set aside as she neared the cottage, knowing that she was finally going to be home.

However, a frown graced her lips when the scent of lavender oil hit her nostrils, the nearer she got to the door.

Her heart quickened, a cascade of thoughts racing through her mind, confusion about her encounter giving way to a deeper worry for Mamu as she pushed open the door and stepped in, making her way to the kitchen where she could hear movements.

She found Bilal in the kitchen, his head bent over the counter, while jars of spices remained unopened beside him.

"Bad morning?" she ventured, her brows furrowing deep as she appraised him.

At the sound of her voice, Bilal's head snapped up, a fleeting smile crossing his lips before giving way to a deeper frown.

The scent of lavender was stronger here, and Yaseerah wrinkled her nose at its heady scent, but concern for Mamu overshadowed her distaste for the scent as she moved farther into the kitchen, making her way to him.

The urge to hug him and feel the familiar embrace of her kin hit her, and Yaseerah didn't waste any time contemplating it.

If Bilal was surprised when he felt her arms wrap around his waist and her face pressing into the crook of his neck, he didn't show it.

He merely sighed, as he draped an arm around her shoulders, reciprocating her embrace, his lips brushing lightly against her forehead; a familiar gesture that conveyed more than words ever could.

This unspoken comfort was their routine; one or either of them would feel down, and Yaseerah would hug him while he placed a kiss on her forehead. They didn't need words to soothe each other.

"Mamu?" she queried when she took a step back and sat on one of the stools.

"Resting," he sighed again, scrubbing a hand across his face. "She's been having those headaches again."

Yaseerah nodded because she'd already anticipated that answer. Guilt gnawed at her for not checking up on them sooner, but she squashed it down as she began to think of solutions.