Dare You To Love Me

«19» can we... surrender?

Shame was a foreign emotion to Fulan, yet it gripped him daily in the presence of the dark-haired beauty peacefully asleep in the room he’d specifically designed, with her in mind.

Despite his good intentions, shame washed over him for inviting her into his house without a mahrem in sight—a forbidden act that could jeopardize her integrity in the face of society, if ever discovered.

But when she had arrived, looking distressed and seeking refuge, turning her away felt unthinkable.

Dropping the shopping bags on the kitchen island, a heavy sigh escaped his lips, empathy and worry settling deep in his chest, the more he thought of her.

Yaseerah had always looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, her face carrying a weariness to it that no teenager should have to experience, and not for the first time since he met her, Fulan wanted to destroy everything that stood between her and her happiness.

When she padded into the kitchen moments later, wearing the clothes he bought her, Fulan couldn’t deny a surge of pride that lit him from within.

The feelings of shame and apprehension faded at the sight of her lithe frame, and he knew he’d do whatever it took, just to have her in space.

“You’re awake, perfect timing,” his lips lifted into a smile, as he began to dish out the takeouts onto the kitchen island. “I made you hot chocolate, it’s not as good as Charme tea but I hope you like it. Also, I hope you like Chinese food, I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got a bit of everything from their menu today.”

Yaseerah took a seat on one of the stools, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the island so she didn’t have to look at him.

Fulan was bustling around the kitchen barefooted, humming a tune she didn’t recognize and the simplicity of the moment made her heart squeeze so painfully, it was all she could do not to allow a sob escape her lips.

Pain is weakness leaving the body, she repeated in her head like a mantra, as she took a slow sip of the hot chocolate Fulan had just dropped in front of her.

“Yaseerah?”

“Yes?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” She hated how weak her voice sounded, as her lips trembled, the backs of her eyes burning, as she fought to keep her tears at bay.

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

Because you make me want things I have no right wanting.

Sniffling, Yaseerah concealed the sound with a fake cough, but Fulan, ever perceptive when it came to her, had noticed.

Without hesitation, he circled the island, and came to stand in front of her, towering over her.

When she continued to sniffle, refusing to talk or even look at him, Fulan began to panic.

He wanted to touch her, to embrace her, or to do anything that’ll help in calming her down but he knew that it’ll be taking it too far. As it stood, he had crossed a lot of boundaries when it came to her, and the last thing he wanted was to cross more.

Settling on a compromise, he crouched before her, keeping his hands balled by his sides despite the urge to hold her getting stronger by the seconds.

“Talk to me, please.”

“I...” she hiccupped, unable to form a coherent response.

Some people realized they had fallen in love through the butterflies that took flight in their stomachs but for Yaseerah, it was the pain of it that made her realize just how far she had fallen.