Chapter 10
Sakina’s POV
The devil sleeps soundly beside
me; her fingers curled around the upper part of my body. Her hand is warm,
heavy—almost heavenly. I want to rinse the taste of her from my mouth, erase
the feel of her tongue. Is this how it’s going to be now? Will every day start
with me doing or saying something involving her, only to regret it afterward?
I glance at my phone, wanting
to check the time, but I don’t dare move. The last thing I want is her touching
me, yet I’d rather not wake her either. Still, I know I’m already late for
class—and she’s probably late for work.
A scoff slips from me,
unintentional, but enough for her to tighten her grip on me like some clingy
puppy. Judging by the pale blue sky outside, dawn has long passed—we’re well
into the morning. I’ve already missed a lecture. I can't afford to miss another.
I ease her arm off me. It’s
surprisingly easier than it looks or feels. Just as I begin to swing my legs
off the bed, I feel a sudden tug on my hair. I'm yanked back down, my face
buried in the scent of waterfalls and fresh earth. When I open my eyes, I find
myself face-to-face with her beautiful chest.
“Where do you think you’re
going?” Her sleepy voice is softer, deeper—completely different from her usual
tone.
Hassan is going to make me feel
things I’m not ready for—things I never wanted to feel in the first place. But
here we are.
“To shower. I have classes,” I
muttered.
I felt her lips press gently
against the top of my head before she finally let me go. I hesitated for a
moment before moving. Reaching for my phone, I saw a message from Omar—he was
on his way to pick me up.
I quickly replied, telling him
not to bother; my cousin would drop me off instead. Still no missed calls from
my parents. They were being completely unfair, and it was starting to sting
more than I wanted to admit.
I glanced back at Hassan. Her
eyes were half-lidded but watching me. There was always something unnervingly
intense about her gaze—something unsettling. She was, in every way, deeply
unnerving.
“Do you wear dresses? Maybe I
could borrow one,” I asked, more to break the tension than anything.
Her deep, husky morning chuckle
made my cheeks flush with heat. Then she started laughing—loud and a little
unhinged. It hit me then: she probably didn’t laugh often. And when she
abruptly stopped, her expression shifted to one of eerie calm. My stomach clenched.
The way her face could go blank in an instant… It was a silent warning. This
woman was not to be underestimated.
She carried herself with a kind
of reckless confidence—arrogant and raw.
“No one can make you feel like
this…”
I bit back a retort. I was sure
Omar could make me feel even more—because I loved Omar. I didn’t love her. I
couldn’t.
“A woman like me,” she said
with a slight smirk, “do I look like I wear dresses?”
No, she absolutely did not.
I gave her a nervous smile as
she rose from the bed and stretched. My eyes involuntarily dropped lower. Was
she always that… hard? Or was she just that big? I hated when she stood
like that—towering, advancing toward me like some inevitable force. It always
felt like she was going to plow right through me.
“My dove?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t wear dresses.”
I nodded. She offered me her
hand, and I shyly took it. A grin curved her lips as she led me to her closet
and opened one side, revealing a row of dresses hanging neatly.
“So… you do wear dresses? And
panties?”
“No, my dove.” She tugged her
pants down slightly, revealing boxers. “I wear these. The dresses are for
you—for when you stay over.”
“Oh.”
She let go of my hand and
turned to pick out a dress for me. “Headscarf and pins are in that bottom
drawer,” she added, pointing to a section of the closet.
“I don’t like wearing a
headscarf to lectures.”
She stared at me, silently.
“Thank you. I’ll wear it,” I
said quickly.
“Very, very good.”
**********
The car pulled up in front of
my university. We shared a soft kiss before I opened the door.
“Thanks for the tea,” I said.
She’d taken us out for breakfast at a restaurant—even after I insisted, I was
running late. I knew she hadn’t wanted me to attend my lecture. She already had
plans for my future—plans that didn’t involve me working after we got married.
“I want you to go home after
class and get dressed.”
“For what?” I asked warily.
Please, not another rooftop date. That one had left me chilled to the
bone—partly from the cold, partly from the truth she’d revealed that night.
“Tonight, we’re announcing our
engagement.”
“What?” I asked, startled.
“To—tonight?”
Wasn’t the engagement
announcement supposed to happen a month after the contract signing?
“Shouldn’t it be a month
later?”
“I want it tonight,” she said
simply. “The sooner everyone in the family knows we’re together, the better.”
I frowned. If I kept frowning
like this, I was going to be wrinkled before I even hit twenty-five.
“Hassan…”
“Yes, my wife,” she murmured,
pressing a soft kiss to the sleeve of my dress. She had picked one that
awkwardly matched her suit. I hated it.
“No one in the family would be
interested in me,” I muttered. But then, like a sickening lightbulb moment, it
hit me. Everyone in that family seemed to be entangled with each other. So
maybe… maybe there were others who’d find me interesting.
“You’d be surprised,”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Very disgusting.”
But I had the distinct feeling
she didn’t understand what I meant. I wasn’t just talking about others being
interested—I was talking about all of this. The situation. The pressure. The
twisted web of family entanglements. It was all disgusting.
“The ceremony starts at 5 p.m.,
and I know now that your classes end at 4. You’ll have an hour. The dress I
want you to wear will be waiting on your bed at home. Your parents will bring
you to the house, and I’ll meet you there.”
Then she looked at me with a
sharpness that cut through her otherwise smooth voice.
“Don’t be late.”
“I won’t,” I said honestly.
Truth be told, I didn’t want to
find out what she might do if I was ever actually late.
“Thank you, my dove.”
“Bye.”
But before I could leave, she
caught me by the elbow.
“Yes, Hassan?” I asked,
glancing back.
“Did you enjoy last night?”
“In what sense?”
“All of it.”
I took a moment before
replying. “I didn’t enjoy the dinner. I wasn’t dressed appropriately, and I
didn’t like the direction our conversation took. I think there’s more to it
than what you let on.”
“I would never lie to you.”
That was the problem. With
Hassan, truth and lies seemed interchangeable. Her truths were too heavy to
carry, and her lies far too convincing. If anything, I wanted her to lie—to
tell me this was all some elaborate joke. That the family I had loved all my
life wasn’t actually this… sick.
“What did you enjoy?” she
asked.
I couldn’t lie to her
completely—not a hundred percent. I was either too honest or too compliant with
her.
“I did enjoy what you did to
me... physically,” I admitted. “But in the shower afterward, all I felt was
disgust and regret.”
“You’ll learn to love it.”
“Yes, Hassan. Bye.”
“Have a wonderful day.”
I hated myself for leaning in
to kiss her—a soft peck on the lips. And when I pulled away, she smirked.
“You’re already learning,” she
said.
I hate you, Hassan. Really,
I do. I just can’t bring myself to say it out loud.
“Please, have a beautiful day
at class,” she added. “And remember—you belong to me. And I don’t share what’s
mine.”
“Yes, Hassan.”
Except she would be sharing.
With Omar. Because I wasn’t letting him go—not anytime soon.
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