Mashal's perspective
The Christmas holidays unfolded as one of the lengthiest breaks, with a fortnight proving substantially longer than a mere week. This holiday season took on an unusual demeanor, split between engaging in FaceTime conversations with friends and diligent preparation for the imminent January exams. Yet, a perplexing amalgamation of sorrow and frustration gnawed at my emotions due to a novel experience—being left on "seen" by someone I deeply cared for.
Perhaps, this turmoil was a natural prelude to moving forward. Life, after all, loomed vast, and the current chapter was but a week old in the grand narrative of existence.
It was almost as though I yearned to explore profound emotions but hesitated, held back by fear.
Given the warmth and coziness indoors, sleep frequently extended its inviting embrace. Regrettably, I possessed little self-discipline when it came to resisting slumber, a habit that carried consequences, particularly the recurrence of unsettling dreams featuring a shadowy figure.
In these dreams, it felt as though this enigmatic presence aimed to ensnare me in darkness, threatening to consume my very soul, much like the specter of death itself.
This was a secret I dared not share with anyone, not even my close friends Zee and Nur, despite our deep bond.
When slumber overtook me, it seemed as though the hands of the enigmatic figure caressed my being, an irresistible force drawing my entire existence toward him, a notion that sent shivers coursing through my spine.
I was among those individuals harboring an aversion to darkness, and my mind conjured images of myself trapped in a dark forest, surrounded by eerie, wildflowers, with the night's ominous call echoing in the background.
Clearly, this was no fairy tale.
Similarly, upon awakening, thoughts of Yousef weighed upon me, evoking a sense of melancholy, though not despair or heartbreak—definitely not love.
Soon, I roused myself from slumber, attended to my morning rituals, and descended the staircase in pursuit of sustenance. However, as was often the case, both my parents, dedicated physicians, were absent, their medical duties demanding more of their time than their presence at home.
I settled at the breakfast table, combining milk and cereal in a bowl, indulging in my morning reprieve while engrossed in a Netflix show.
Those who shared the peculiar habit of needing a screen to accompany their meals would surely understand.
Later, a sensation of bodily fatigue prompted me to seek solace in a soothing bubble bath, a means to alleviate the tension in my muscles, relishing the tranquility of solitude within the confines of my home.
As the warm water cascaded over my bare skin, a sense of drowsiness enveloped me. I reclined in the bathtub, closed my eyes, and surrendered to the mellifluous strains of Alec Benjamin's "Let Me Down Slowly."
"The night is cold in the kingdom, I can sense you fading away, From the kitchen to the bathroom sink, Your footsteps keep me awake."
Gradually, a serene peace embraced me, and my entire body succumbed to relaxation.
Suddenly, a sensation enveloped me: a pair of hands encircling my waist, hands I recognized instantly, neither too gentle nor too rough. Despite my desire to resist and break free, his hold proved unyielding, ensnaring me, though not in a harsh grip.
He began to plant wet kisses on my neck, his beard grazing my skin. Oh God! His hands ventured from my belly, tracing their way across my body.
This left me torn between conflicting emotions: A) Fear B) Pleasure
"Stop," I moaned, as his skilled hands worked their magic.
"But you don't truly wish for me to stop," the voice asserted.
This marked the first time that the man in the shadows had spoken.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked, my nerves on edge.
"Are you frightened?" he whispered in my ear, sending a shiver coursing through my lower body.
"Yes," I stammered, fully aware that I was ensnared within yet another dream, unable to rouse myself.
"You are mine," he whispered, leaving me stunned.
Before I could recover from the shock, a loud ringtone shattered the illusion, jerking me awake. I quickly realized that it was my phone ringing.
"Mom?" I answered the call.
"Mashal, could you please prepare something for lunch?" she asked, as if we were expecting visitors.
"Are we expecting guests?" I inquired.
"Yes, you know, Jennifer, the girl from your college, and her mother. They're coming for lunch," she informed me, and I agreed before we hung up.
After I finished my soapy bath, I emerged from the bathroom. As I checked my phone, I noticed notifications from Faisal.
We had been conversing for some time, and it was reassuring to have a friend, despite the occasional flirtation.
Faisal: So, I heard you're leaving town for uni? Me: Perhaps. Faisal: Your parents won't permit it. Me: May I inquire as to who you are to say that? Faisal: I'll track you down and arrange a marriage for you. Only then can you leave town. It's forbidden for a girl to live independently. Me: Go ahead, try me! Faisal: I knew it; you've always wanted to marry me. Me: In your dreams.
Later, I descended the staircase and commenced preparations for shrimp pasta and garlic bread, lacking any clear culinary inspiration. While the bread was baking in the oven, I found myself lost in my thoughts.
The fact that I had been left on "seen" by a guy, coupled with the inexplicable presence of a shadowy figure claiming me as his own, had me in a state of confusion.
Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by the chime of incoming notifications.
Yousef Patel: I received my mock exam results, and they were as I had hoped.
Despite the past instance of being left on "seen," I contemplated responding, seeing this as an opportunity to reignite our conversation.
However, this time around, I chose to delete his message without opening it. I know! I know! He had left me hanging, and I was determined to level the playing field.
Just then, the doorbell rang, and I was greeted by my mother, Jennifer, and her mother as I opened the door.
Soon, my mother ushered Jennifer and me into my room, under the pretext of fostering some "bonding," as she put it. Seriously? I hardly knew this girl.
"Hi?" she almost questioned.
"Are you all right?" I asked as we settled onto my bed.
"What do you mean? Is there something on my face?" she inquired, leaving me utterly bewildered.
"What?" I asked in return.
She noticed my frequent use of the phrase "Are you all right?" and found it a tad perplexing. I couldn't help but chuckle at her observation.
"Huh?" I replied, bemused by her curiosity.
"Oh God! That's just my way of asking 'How are you doing?' It's a British expression," I explained, trying to clear up the confusion.
Our conversation then meandered through various topics, and strangely, I found myself divulging everything to her. It might have been a foolish move, but I couldn't resist opening up.
With a hint of shock in her voice, she inquired, "Do you have a crush at this college?"
I chuckled, acknowledging the absurdity of the situation. "You know, I've spent my entire time at this college thinking everyone's rather unattractive."
"Let me see his picture," she requested.
I reached for my phone and navigated to his profile, displaying his image. Her reaction was succinct, summed up in a single word:
"Ugly."
YOU ARE READING
His Past
Mystery / Thriller"What is it?" I demanded, my anger simmering beneath the surface. "I swear it's not what you're thinking. I know there were times when I felt pressured during our conversation, but..." He began, but I didn't allow him to finish. "Cut the crap! I und...
