Well, there was the time he broke your heart and she had to stay by your side at the hospital for two weeks.
Panic nestled comfortably in my chest, sitting cross-legged, waiting for its turn to rise. I desperately hoped it would take the hint from all the shame I was feeling and allow me some semblance of peace.
Yunus naturally leaned into me when Umaima handed him over. I’d run away with this adorable toddler—hypothetically, of course. “I have to pee, if your dick fiancé comes before I get out of the bathroom, knee him the balls for me.”
With Yunus’s head nestled under my chin, I choked. “Only you would do something like that, Umaima.”
“Should I not? He embarrassed me in front of the other guy and my older brother—then proceeded to act like an unintellectual imbecile who had no comprehension of the dictionary.”
“One, don’t act like you don’t know what theotherguy’s name is when you were basically blushing every time he talked to you. And two, aren’t imbeciles naturally not…smart?”
“That’s not the point,” she huffed with a dismissing gesture. “The point is that I don’t like him, and I hate thatyoumarryinghimis the only viable option right now.”
With one hand on the back of Yunus’s head, I swayed in place. “Well, it wasn’t theonlyoption we had. But it was the quickest and most ruthless one.”
“Which fucking sucks.”
Yunus giggled at the curse.
Umaima shut her eyes and stared up to the ceiling. “If his first word is fuc–fudge, Hasan bhai will choke me with my hijab. Like literally. He will pull it off me and choke me. Hang me—annihilate me.”
I held him tighter. Yunus should have said his first word by now, but he hadn't, and everyone was expecting it to happen any day. “At this point, Hasan would be thrilled if Yunus’s first word was a curse.”
“That is tru—oh shit, it’s bad!” Umaima crossed her legs, bending slightly.
“Umaima,” I grimaced. “Go!”
She laughed while struggling her way to the bathroom.
After she was gone, I nuzzled the grubby space betweenYunus's shoulder and neck, pressing a gentle kiss and smearing him with my red lipstick. “You’re such a good boy,” I cooed as we moved from my monotone bedroom into the beiger living room. Even the kitchen was beige. It wasn't that I didn't want to decorate; the place just didn't feel likemeenough.
Yunus distracted himself with the diamonds around my neck when the bell rang.
My pulse racketed through my veins as I stopped swaying.
Christian was here.
It took me a hot minute to open the door. Dragging my feet against the floor—my feet coming under the dress—and arms tightly wrapped around Yunus for composure.
Stumbling with the locks, I opened the door to see my future husband.
Christian looked different.
Darker somehow.
His eyes glinted astonishingly under the horrendous orange hue of the hallway lights, yet he seemed polished and ravishing in ways I shouldn't be imagining.
His body was adorned in an all-black tuxedo, contrasting with my pastel colors. Christian looked every bit the ruthless boss, but was this the facade he presented to others or was it his true self? It seemed I’d never find out.
Veins popped strategically on his hands unbeknownst to the response furthering to the very south of my body—heating up with unpreventable pure, unfathomed burning.
He stared at me in silence. If it had been anyone else standing before me, I would have trembled with self-conscious overthinking. But before me was Christian and ifit weren't for the subtle tick in his jaw and darkening of his eyes, I would’ve naturally assumed he was immune to me.
A shimmer of hope came in the form of drenched, unwilling arousal.
He opened his mouth to speak, but a jarringUurrpcut through the moment, breaking our silence.
Yunus’s face blemished with subtle tones of green, a cacophonous bubbling from his stomach wafted through my ears.
