Him & His Muslimah

55

Zaib/Zoya

As the sun peaked through the pearl white curtains, she twisted to look at the clock on the wall. It read two in the afternoon. She instantly gasped, her eyes growing two times wide. It seemed that the two had barely gotten any rest apart from each other, so now that they finally reconciled, they heavily overslept.

She tried to jump off the bed; however, her husband's tight hold on her waist didn't budge. She glared at him; he seemed to be deep asleep, his light snores ringing against her frame. She attempted to ease his clasp, gently pulling at his wrist but his hand didn't move the slightest, infuriating her.

"I know you're not asleep," she muttered begrudgingly against him, and then very casually, his pink lips broke into a smile, but his eyes remained shut.

"Zaib, do you realize it's two pm? We've slept for a total of eleven hours!" She shrieked, pushing at his chest to escape his arms, but his body merely moved a little and then recovered back to his original position. Her strong force had no impact on his large build.

"You're so tiny. You can't even get out of my embrace," Zaib finally broke his long silence with a charismatic smirk on his lips. She sighed at his silly expression and replied annoyedly. "Your hold is strong," she muttered.

"I'm not even using a quarter of my strength Hayati." She visibly froze, her mouth parting in surprise at the unheard-of nickname. A cluster of butterflies sprang to life in her chest and every inch of her body; her frame tightened. She swore she heard her heart drumming against her chest.

"Hayati?" She mumbled in an inaudible voice, questioning whether she even heard him right.

He picked up on the bashfulness of her tone and immediately opened his eyes. He internally thanked himself because if he hadn't, he would've regretted it; her round cheeks had burned up and the brown hair clung to her neck making her seem as dazzling as ever.

He resisted the urge to kiss her. "Do you not like it?" He rasped; his voice was groggy because it had only been a moment since he'd woken up. He had felt her twisting and turning to leave the bed yet he selfishly held her to himself, enjoying her adorable struggles to loosen his hold.

"I—I do." She immediately responded.

Seeing her bashful confession to liking the nickname, a sense of great joy bloomed in his eyes. "You like that I call you my life, Zoya Hayati?" He muttered again sensually slow, emphasizing every word. She winced at his teasing tone and then threw a punch at his chest as she lowered herself into the blanket bashfully.

"You're so annoying!" She grumbled. He chuckled aloud, grabbing onto her covered frame and hugging her to him.

"Remember when you called me your soul?" He reminisced, the memory of their honeymoon flashed back into his mind; an adorably shy smile uplifted her lips as she tried to persuade him to go zip-lining with her and of course, her charms had worked.

Zoya was naturally confident on the exterior but in front of him, she lost her cool and morphed into a red tomato as soon as he flirted. Just for him, she was a timid-awkward-woman as if back in her teenage years, speaking to her crush for the first time. It excited him that he'd be the only one to know the coy, unrestrained Zoya Malik.

He was so busy thinking of her, Zaib didn't realize she had already poked her head out of the blanket and was staring at him.

"Why'd you still remember that nickname? I only used it once," she suddenly spoke up, causing his thoughts to diffuse into thin air.

He edged closer and gently kissed her nose. "I can't forget anything you say to me." He pulled back; however, his nose still nudged hers as he stared into her ocean eyes. "But I'm not going to use it," she softly mumbled against him.