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❝Angels don't lie, but you do. If I'm a devil, what are you?❞
When Burq loses his memory in an accident and doesn't remember his own wife anymore, Leyla finds it a chance to escape her beastly husband and pretends to be his friend...
Had I known you, I would have possessed you, and had you known me, you would have possessed me. But then you and I would not be.
— Mahmoud Darwish
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The surrounding is a blurry mist, void and silent. All the background noise is swallowed away as the air is stills. Nothing else matters in that moment, but just the two of them.
She doesn't know how his eyes can be so brilliant— both humanly and predatory, alive yet savage. His touch, his hand holding hers, is like him not letting her away this time. As if this time it's different.
Why is Burq so different?
So different than Asfandyar.
Yet so similar.
Asfand and Brekhna belong to each other. Always did. Always will.
The spasm of her heart is chaotic. Her nerves disarrayed, she feels vulnerable. Subconsciously she squeezes his hand, and Burq squeezes back.
"Leyla?"
She looks at him, completely at loss of words. What is the meaning of telling him about their relationship when it was meaningless from the beginning— when both of them were only trying to find refuge in each other from their demons, without ever knowing a thing about each other's pasts.
Why does she feel like she has been using Burq? What more can she do to get rid of this guilt?
"What do you think of us, Burq?" she asks him instead, not letting go of his hand.
"That's the problem: I can't think of anything." He smiles, but Leyla can see it's sardonic and strained. "You say you don't want anything from me, yet you give me all of you. How does a man believe such actions to be motiveless?"
"You don't trust me?"
"Were I not trusting you, would I be still seeing you?" He nods towards her. "It's you who don't trust me, Leyla."
He's right, but he doesn't know he has given her reasons not to trust him with their relationship. He couldn't accept it before, and only kept the pretense of being okay with it only for so long, until he couldn't anymore. How can he accept it now? More importantly: will he divorce her then? Isn't that what she wants?
"You think I've been lying to you?"
"Haven't you?"
"What more could we be if not friends?"
He chuckles at her response, his expression tinting with amusement. "Don't try to trick me again by beating about the bush." He looks down at their interlocked hands and so does she, before meeting each other's gazes again. The gold in his eyes is afire. "You're always so oblivious to our touches, our proximity, that I can't help but think you're used to it."
