Chapter 4
Sakina’s POV
My maid entered the room
carrying a stack of freshly folded blankets. I couldn’t call my friends, and
certainly not Omar, to tell them what was going on. That would be a violation
of the family’s confidentiality rules. It made me seriously wonder if everyone
in this household had to sign that ridiculous contract about keeping family
matters secret.
What was becoming increasingly
clear was that this family was built on secrets, rigid rules, and the eccentric
whims of the rich.
"Please close the door,
Sana,"
She gave me a look full
of pity before turning to shut the door, still balancing the blankets perfectly
on her palm.
"I have a headache,"
I muttered. "And just looking out at the corridor feels morbid
enough."
I sat awkwardly on the chair
that usually tucked neatly beneath my desk, my posture slightly askew as if
trying to find some physical comfort in the middle of mental chaos.
“Something seems to be
bothering you, honey?”
“Mhm.”
“I’ll bet a million bucks it
didn’t go as planned when you left.”
“She has no one," I said,
frustrated. "No girlfriend, no college sweetheart. Her heart is locked up
and soulless—and somehow, it’s all for me. I met her at the door and mistook
her for the butler. Then I told my wife—my cousin—that I was about to
run away with my lover.”
Sana smiled as she placed the
blankets down and moved to sit near my desk. She would be leaving in four
months, and I knew I would miss her terribly. I could talk to her about
anything.
I had already told Sana bits
and pieces of my plan. I was supposed to work something out with Hassan.
“She?” she echoed, surprised.
“Wow, never heard of that kind of marriage before.”
“She supposedly has some
interest in me,” I replied bitterly. “And she has the audacity to think we’re
going to end up wrapped up in each other.”
“What if she wants that with
you—”
“I’ll do it,” I groaned. “Maybe
I’ll do it.”
Sana laughed. “I know you
didn’t expect any of this to happen, but maybe… just maybe, you should see
where this road takes you.”
“I love Omar,” I admitted
quietly. “It’s just… I’m a bit curious about Hassan.”
“And that’s a good thing, my
child.”
“How?” I asked, genuinely
confused.
“Curiosity is often the road
that leads us to where we truly belong. You being curious about her—and what
might come of it—could mean you’re meant to end up with her.”
I cringed at my own nature—how
naturally submissive I could be around her. There was nothing dominant in my
bones. I had always been obedient, always followed the rules. But I let my hair
down the day that same curiosity led me to Omar. I wanted something risky,
something thrilling—and downloading Tinder had given me exactly that. The
excitement I felt, the anticipation as the percentage match loaded, the way my
heart nearly gave out when I first signed into the app…
I didn’t open it for days after
that. Just to be extra cautious, I changed my password from something
simple—like my birthdate—to something more complex, something harder to guess.
It wasn’t that my parents were
overly strict; it was more about the shame. I couldn’t bear the thought of
being caught doing something like that, and then having to explain myself.
“You’re saying…” I tried
massaging the tension from my temples with my fingers. “That I should be with
her?”
“I’m saying curiosity has a
funny way of leading you exactly where you need to be,” Sana replied. “What’s
something you’re curious about when it comes to her?”
“Just how much of a nut job she
actually is.”
She laughed again—
It felt like my life had
turned into a sitcom, and she was the live studio audience, endlessly
entertained by whatever nonsense came out of my mouth.
“Dad’s side of the family are
complete nut jobs,” I added. “All of them, living in these fancy but lifeless
mansions, going mad staring at different walls lined with original artifacts.”
“What else are you curious
about?” she asked.
“I guess… what she’ll do with
me once we’re married. And honestly, I shouldn’t even be thinking like that.
There shouldn’t be any thoughts about what our marriage will be. You
know what I mean?”
“As long as you’re curious,
you’ll slowly start doing everything in your power to satisfy that curiosity.”
She had a point—one I made a
mental note to hate.
“Before you know it, you’ll be
in love and married,” she added.
“Let’s not jump over the moon,”
I exhaled nervously. “There’s still a lot we haven’t uncovered.”
Just then, soft knocks echoed
through the room, interrupting our conversation. Sana hurried over to open the
door. I caught a glimpse of someone before she spoke quietly, then left.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“Your parents are requesting
you in the sitting room,” she replied.
“Please wait here for me,” I
said, rising from my seat.
When I walked in, my mother
greeted me with a bright, excited smile.
“She’s here,” she said,
practically glowing as she pulled the phone away from her ear and held it out
to me.
“Who is it, Mama?” I asked,
hesitating.
“Your wife.”
I scoffed faintly, snatching
the phone from her hand and turning away quickly, not wanting to see the
condemnatory look I knew was on her face.
“Hello, Hassan,” I said, trying
to sound neutral.
“Hello, my wife?”
Why did her voice sound so
distant, yet so hauntingly resonant?
“Yes?” I replied, hesitating.
I glanced back at my mother,
cheeks already flushing with embarrassment.
“I want to take you to school
tomorrow,” she said plainly.
Absolutely not.
“Yes,” I blurted out, squeezing
my eyes shut the second the word escaped.
You stupid rodent—you were
supposed to say no and hang up the damn phone.
“What time is your lecture, my dove?”
“Uhm…” I pressed my hand to my
chest, feeling my heart racing beneath my ribs. “Uff.”
My headache was now fully
seated at the top of my skull like a crown of misery.
“Are you in pain?” she asked,
her tone suddenly gentle.
“Headache,” I muttered.
“Do you want me to come to you?
I can help soothe it.”
How could she sound so calm, so
composed, so—soothing?
“No.”
Finally, I managed to say it. A
solid, direct no.
Apparently, my "no"
button was barely functioning—I’d need to get that checked.
“Then what do you want me to
do, my wife?” she asked softly.
“Nothing…” I replied quickly,
eyes darting to my mom who was clearly trying to eavesdrop. I stepped farther
away. She pouted, whispering complaints under her breath.
“You can pick me up tomorrow at
11 a.m. I have late classes. Bye,” I rushed, eager to hang up, but her voice
caught me.
“I want to see you after
school,” she said, her words rooting me in place.
I leaned my forehead against
the wall, eyes closed, letting her voice linger in my mind like a melody I
wasn’t ready to forget.
Absolutely not. Definitely not.
Absolutely no fucking way.
“Yes, you can,” I heard myself
say.
My no buttons were
completely broken.
The moment she breathed out
that line, I turned into a full-blown idiot.
“What is she saying?” my mother
asked, trying to listen in.
I turned and silently shushed
her, too stunned to deal with both her curiosity and Hassan’s dangerously
effective presence. Her breathing was slow and heavy, and for some reason, it
had my knees practically buckling.
“I can’t wait to see you,” she
said, her voice like a slow burn.
“Yeah,” I murmured, completely
undone.
She breathed again—and I swear,
everything about her was next-level hot. I couldn’t stay on this call. If I
did, I’d turn into a stupid rodent again.
“Bye,” I said abruptly, and
hung up before I could humiliate myself further.
I handed the phone back to my
mother, doing everything I could not to die of embarrassment.
“What did she say?” she asked,
pulling me down to sit beside her on the couch. “You’re blushing.”
“No, Mom.”
“You two are going to get along
just fine.”
“I don’t know…”
“What is it, honey?”
“I’m still trying to wrap my
head around all of this.”
“You’ll understand soon
enough,” she said gently.
I gave her a small nod.
“I’m sorry to say this,” she
added, her voice careful, “but you’re going to have to end whatever
arrangements you have with Omar.”
“I can’t do that,” I said
firmly. “I love him.”
She sighed, her expression
pained. “Please…”
I stood up. “I’ll think about
it.”
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