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Chapter 18, 2 stories
It was Wednesday morning.
Anaya and Zayd were going through the busiest week of their lives—juggling both office workload and the stress at home caused by that troublesome woman Mrs Raliya. At the office, they had reached the final stage of their project, and today was crucial—they were to wrap everything up in preparation for the big presentation the next morning. That would be the moment they'd know if they secured the project or not.
Anaya couldn't contain her excitement, and Zayd was genuinely happy for her. He prayed she would succeed.
While Anaya was working with her colleagues, Zayd walked in, having just left Mr. Abbas's office.
"Anaya, let me have a word with you," Zayd requested.
"Now?" she asked, slightly surprised and glancing at her system. She was clearly in the middle of work.
"Yes, now," he said firmly.
Without much choice, she followed him to his office.
"What is it, Zayd?" Anaya asked once they got there.
"When you're done with work today, you'll be heading straight home," Zayd informed her. "We've already spoken to your father about it. I'll be traveling now, but don't worry—I'll be back tomorrow morning, insha Allah, before your presentation."
Anaya went quiet. Her expression shifted for a moment—her eyes reflecting sadness—before she quickly masked it with a faint smile.
"Safe journey, Zayd," she said softly.
Zayd's gaze lingered on Anaya for a moment before he finally spoke.
"Anaya… would you miss me?" he asked softly, reaching out to take her hand.
She quickly pulled her hand away.
"Miss you? No way. In fact, I'm going to live my best life today," she said with a playful smirk. "No one to tell me what to do or what not to do. No Zayd. No Mrs. Raliya. Just peace."
"Really?" he let go of her hand with a small chuckle. "Fine."
"Then goodbye," he said, gathering the documents she helped him pack.
Once everything was ready, Anaya offered to drive him to the airport, planning to return with the car afterward.
During the drive, Zayd stayed mostly quiet, immersed in his zikr. He barely spoke until it was almost time for him to board his flight.
As Anaya waved goodbye and turned to leave, she was surprised to see Zayd suddenly getting into the car again, his eyes fixed on her.
"Zayd? Did you forget something?" she began to ask, but before she could finish, he leaned in slightly and kissed her forehead gently.
"I'll miss you, Anaya," he said quietly, "even if you won't miss me. Please take care."
"I'll miss you too," she whispered.
"Really, Anaya?" he asked, his eyes soft.
She nodded shyly, saying nothing, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she nervously played with the hem of her clothes while he was left only staring at her.
After a few moments, she glanced at him and said, "You shouldn't miss your flight."
"You're right," he replied, finally looking away. "Please take care, wifey."
He stepped out of the car, and they exchanged one last wave—eyes lingering—before he disappeared into the terminal.
___
By 3:30 p.m., Anaya was finally done with work for the day alongside her teammates. She felt relieved and satisfied, hoping that all their efforts would pay off and they'd secure the contract. Just like the rest of the team, she had done her part, and now it was time to breathe.
As she prepared to head to her father's house, her thoughts drifted back to Zayd. With her files and bag in hand, she headed to his staff room, hoping she might catch a glimpse of him there—but it was empty. A small frown tugged at her lips. She wondered how he was doing. They hadn't spoken since he left that morning, and now she couldn't help but think about him. Had he finished his tasks? Was he resting? Why was she thinking about him this much?
She picked up her phone and stood by the window. Not a single message from him. Still, why was she expecting one? Was it because he had told her he'd miss her?
If he didn't call her, couldn't she call him?
Her thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating—until a voice from behind startled her.
"Were you looking for me, Anaya?" Zayd asked gently.
She jumped and spun around, ready to be annoyed—only to find it was Zayd. Her expression softened instantly, and without thinking, she rushed into his arms, hugging him tightly. The gesture took him by surprise, but he hugged her back, even tighter.
"How was work, Anaya? How are you feeling?" he asked softly.
"All is fine. What about you? Are you done? When did you get back?" Anaya asked, pulling back just slightly to look at him.
Zayd paused, tempted to tell her the truth—that he had come back early just to see her, because staying away was too hard—but instead, he simply changed the topic.
"Now that you're done with work," he said, smiling at her, "can we go somewhere? Just the two of us?"
Anaya smiled and nodded, her heart fluttering a little at the invitation.
"But let me stop by my dad's house to pick the outfit I'll wear for tomorrow's presentation," Anaya told him as they got into the car.
Zayd nodded and drove them in silence to her father's mansion, a place that never failed to impress with its sheer elegance.
As they pulled into the driveway, the househelp, Ibrahim, appeared at the entrance.
"Welcome, ma'am," he greeted with a warm smile, before turning to Zayd. "Welcome, sir."
"Please pass me my room key," Anaya said with a soft smile.
She already knew her father wasn't home—they had left him at the office earlier—so she led Zayd through the grand corridor. The quietness of the house only amplified the opulence. Zayd's eyes subtly wandered, taking in the luxury, the art, the polished marble floors. Though his family also live comfortably.
He found himself comparing… again. He'd thought about their class difference before alot of times, but standing here in her world, he felt it more deeply.
Anaya unlocked her room, and a soft pink glow greeted them. It was warm, feminine, and spacious.
She moved to the drawer and brought out two outfits, laying them on the bed. "I'll pack this one for tomorrow. Let me shower and wear the other for our outing," she said.
As she stepped into the bathroom, Zayd found himself drawn to a small table where a leather photo album rested. He opened it slowly, flipping through pages filled with memories—her school days, beach trips, parties, boat rides. There were boys too—friends, no doubt—but something about them made his chest tighten. He had no right to feel possessive about her past, but still...
He paused on a photo of her, taken alone on a cruise ship. The sun behind her, the wind catching her hair with just a small scarf tye on the head. She looked happy—free. He pulled out his phone and captured the image. He'd ask her about it later.
Later that evening, they found themselves at a quiet restaurant, sharing a booth tucked in a cozy corner. They played a game they made up on the spot—Tell me about your past, and I won't judge.
They both laughed through most of the stories. Zayd teased her lightly at first, but when she shared a few moments that made him uncomfortable, he caught himself before speaking. He reminded himself about the challenge.
Dinner ended with a surprise.
As they stood to leave, a waiter approached with a small box. "For you," he said, placing it gently in front of Anaya.
Zayd reached forward and opened it himself. Inside sat a delicate cake with the words: Thank you, Anaya.
She blinked. "Thank you… for what?"
Zayd didn't answer immediately. Instead, he handed her a folded note, written in his own hand.
"I just want you to read this," he said quietly.
He held his breath as she unfolded the paper. He wasn't sure how she'd react—he just knew he had to say it.
The note read:
My Dearest Anaya,
I've never had the chance to properly thank you—but thank you. For adjusting to my world. I know we come from two different backgrounds—you're used to comfort and ease, and I admire the grace with which you've navigated my more modest life.
I know it's not always easy, especially with my nature… and the expectations around us. Still, you've been patient, and kind.
I've come to care for you deeply, I have grown fond of you. I'm not asking for anything in return—I just want you to know that I see you, I appreciate you, and I'm thankful that you're in my life.
You don't have to say anything. I just needed you to know.
After Anaya finished reading the message, she folded the note slowly, her fingers lingering on the paper. She was dumbfounded—unsure of what to say or how to respond, even though Zayd had made it clear she didn't have to say anything.
A long, thick silence settled between them.
"I hope I didn't spoil your mood, Anaya," Zayd said quietly. "Maybe I shouldn't have rushed you... maybe I shouldn't have said anything at all."
Anaya didn't respond. She just kept staring at him, her expression unreadable.
"What is it, Anaya? Please… say something," he asked gently.
"I can't breathe, Zayd," she whispered.
Zayd's brows furrowed in concern. "What does that mean?"
She looked up at him, her eyes soft. "I mean… I care about you too."
Zayd blinked, unsure if he had heard her correctly. "What did you just say?"
"I said… I like you too, Zayd," Anaya repeated, her voice low but honest.
She meant every word. Despite their differences, despite how everything started between them—the forced marriage, her initial decision to stay only for the sake of her father's project—somewhere along the line, her heart had softened. She had grown fond of Zayd, more than she ever intended to. And now that he had spoken his truth, she didn't want to hide hers.
Zayd stared at her, overwhelmed with emotion. "Alhamdulillah," he breathed, taking both of her hands in his. He leaned down and kissed her knuckles with so much sincerity it made Anaya's heart flutter.
"Thank you... so, so much, Anaya. You have no idea—you've just made my day. Actually, my entire year, no a lifetime."
___
They didn't return home until late into the night, both silently agreeing to avoid any run-ins with Mrs. Raliya.
Without a word, they each showered and prepared for bed, a quiet, unspoken understanding passing between them.
Anaya was the last to finish. As she stepped out of the bathroom, a soft cloud of steam followed her like a whisper. Her damp hair clung to her skin, the faint scent of vanilla shampoo lingering in the air. Clad in a maroon nightgown, she moved gracefully across the cool tiled floor, eyes set on the bed—until she stopped, startled.
Zayd was there.
Not on the couch as he usually was, but lying on the bed in his white nightwear, eyes closed, one arm tucked behind his head. He looked so calm, so at peace.
"What are you doing there, Zayd?" she asked softly, her voice laced with shyness and uncertainty.
He didn't respond.
Frowning, she walked closer and tapped his shoulder. "Zayd. Zayd?"
Before her hand could retreat, his arm reached up and wrapped around her waist, pulling her down onto the bed in one swift, unexpected motion.
"Zayd!" she gasped, her breath hitching as she landed lightly against his chest. Panic rose in her at their sudden closeness, her heart racing.
He opened his eyes, and for a moment, they both just stared at each other. Anaya was the most captivating sight to him, and yet, Zayd couldn't believe this beautiful woman, whom he barely knew, had just agreed to love him, to build a future together. A small, boyish smile curled at his lips.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice low and soft. "I just wanted to hold you. Just for a moment."
"Zayd, are you okay? Please… let go of me," she whispered, though her hands didn't push as hard as her words suggested.
"I was just thinking," he said, his gaze locked on hers.
"Thinking what?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
His hand shifted from her waist to the small of her back, his touch gentle but firm. She froze, unsure of what to do.
Then, he spoke, each word slow and deliberate. "Let me hold you… not just tonight, but always." His fingers brushed lightly through her damp hair. "Anaya… it's been two weeks since we got married. Can we finally… be husband and wife? Not just in name, but in every way?"
Anaya's breath caught, and she looked away. Her heart pounded in her chest. She had just admitted her feelings… but was this the next step? Was she ready?
"Anaya?" Zayd's voice was softer now, uncertain, waiting.
She didn't answer with words.
Instead, slowly, she leaned forward and rested her head against his chest, her arms wrapping around him in a silent response.
Zayd smiled, holding her tighter, the warmth of her against him spreading through him like a quiet promise. "Does this mean… you've agreed?" he whispered.
Anaya remained silent, her breath steady against him, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart.
And Zayd didn't need to hear her say it. Her heart had already answered his.