33: Dinner gone wrong

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"You categorized me in your life, for me you were my first and my last."

It felt like a lifetime before we decided to leave the room. My body had this beautiful dull ache, my soul felt alive and my skin richer than apricot peel. I wanted to stay in our small sweet haven but I couldn't. Having responsibilities and a life with a husband like him did take a toll on me sometimes. I smiled at him from the mirror I was looking at, fixing my hijab I sprayed perfume on myself a little before turning to see him once again. He sat on the bed busy with his phone between his long trimmed fingers, his brows furrowed as he focused on whatever was in it assuming his Bluetooth light twinkling it must have been a conference call. I was quietly watching him, this fine-looking man, this man who broke me and made me whole again, this man who was capable of pain and disaster yet after waiting patiently for him, I finally got to see this magnificent side of him.

Feeling the intensity of my gaze, he stopped moving his fingers, excruciatingly looked up. His sparkling green orbs clashed with my honey brown eyes. He for a beat looked like the Musa the world feared, then his gaze softened into a warmer, liquid frequency that startled each artery inside of my body.

We just stared at each other as if it was our first time. It took my breath away.

I smiled, feeling shy suddenly, his gaze ripped me apart in ways I could not define. Looking away I started clearing a few littered things mainly what he threw here and there. I could feel his eyes, unsaid words, a serene silence that begged to be kept and not perturbed.

It was our holiday, my dear husband wanted to take the entire family out to dinner. We were already sleeping through the day busy inducing each other in our tastes.

Damn him

"Ready?" He asked silently, his word slipping off marble stone.

I almost chuckled, "Yeah."

He did not respond. I didn't look back because if I did, I knew he wouldn't let us out of this house tonight. It was already 6 p.m. and he was beyond lazy. Not a single soul will believe the great Musa being this lazy, the most adequate person. Yet, I was glad he was not so perfect around me, this was his perfect and I loved it.

"Let's go." He mumbled as I picked the baby bag up.

Turning on my heel, I was about to follow him, when I saw his body wrapped in his traditional white Pandora with a dark maroon headdress, bringing the green out of his eyes I wanted to lose myself within him. I smiled, appreciating him openly. He had Zahra in his arms, who flayed her tiny hands around his face, pulling his beard. These small moments made life seem even more mesmerizing.

"Let's," I replied, following him out.

We were walking down the hall crossing Elif Aunt's room, she was still sick but better than before and she had amazingly agreed to join us today. While Musa went to start the car, I went to check if she was ready or not. She was looking very young and extravagant. Her face looked much better than the pale one she wore for the past weeks. Now her cheeks had this dull red beat to them. Her eyes greener than before, highlighting the lime in them.

"Ready?" I asked, clearing my throat.

She raised her brow and nodded, not saying anything. We left the house meeting Musa in the car. As I offered her the front seat she refused and sat at the back with Zahra in her lap as she ever so silently played with her. Musa turned the radio's volume up and listened to the slow flow of the music filling the car as we passed trees and buildings.

"Salam Ya Abdullah, we're almost there, what about you?" I asked through the phone.

"We have reached." He replied as if distracted.

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