LUCENT

22

NADIRA

My shaky legs carried me to the bed. I sat and trained my eyes on the floor, clutching my hijab. I feel him walk over, and my heart rate picks up. Is this it? Is this how I die?

"Is this the first time we're meeting?" he asks.

I do a double-take to ensure I heard him right before raising my head, "Huh?"

He cocks his head to the side, his face filled with annoyance. He could tell I was confused. I was expecting to have a different conversation.

"It's a yes or no question," he states.

I clear my throat and say, "No."

"And did you consent to this?"

I nod and say, "Yes."

He crosses his arms over his chest and sighs, "Then why are you acting like you've been kidnapped?"

I stare at him and gulp. He didn't look as scary as usual, but still looked intimidating. I needed to figure out if this was a game or if he was really over our tiff.

But as always, his face was not giving anything away, so I gathered all the courage in my body and asked an age-old question, "Are you still mad about our argument?"

He exhaled and uncrossed his arms. "I don't think I can ever get mad at you, Nadira. I was upset and disappointed but not mad."

"You never called," I complain.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "The phone works both ways," he responds.

"I called you!"

"To give me that insincere and forced apology."

The nerve of this man. He has no idea what it took for me to call him and utter, "I'm sorry".

"How would you know my apology wasn't sincere?" I ask, catching an attitude. "Because of you, all my nice clothes were burnt to crisps."

The scary Tayyib returned immediately after I uttered those words. His features hardened, and he gave me that blank but frightening stare. Sometimes, when he did that, it seemed like no person or thought was behind those eyes.

"Leave," he states.

He didn't have to tell me twice. I huffed as I got up and left as quickly as my legs would allow.

"Stupid Tayyib and his infuriating self," I muttered, ripping off my hijab. I stomped into the closet and found an oversized shirt to wear to bed. I brushed my teeth, washed and moisturised my face, and then jumped into bed.

I closed my eyes forcefully and begged for sleep to come. It didn't. I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours before my body gave in.

TAYYIB

The plan was not to go to bed alone, but Nadira was making this way more difficult than it should be. I genuinely cannot tell if she is being stubborn or sincerely believes she's in the right.

Arguments and conflict have never been things I enjoy. I remove myself from them as quickly as possible. I work with facts, not fiction. Feelings do not tie into my judgment. If something is wrong, it is wrong—no ifs, buts or maybes. Well, that is until Nadira appeared. She's had a way of jamming my mind and weaving herself into my thoughts. But, regardless of how she felt due to our argument, she is still in the wrong.

I admit when I am wrong, though I am rarely wrong, and make amends. Why is it so hard for her to do the same?

Cocky much?