The Twins 8
In the afternoon, twins Zara and Zainab connected over their daily phone call. Zainab's question, "How's Lukman?" made Zara force a smile, trying to mask her true feelings.
"He's fine, alhamdulilah," Zara replied, hiding her concerns about Lukman. The twins continued to chat, discussing other topics before wrapping up their call.
Zara sat in the parlour, her eyes fixed on the TV, but her mind was elsewhere. She stared blankly at the screen, her thoughts consumed by worries and concerns.
Nafisat, seated beside her, noticed Zara's distraction and lack of concentration. She saw the worry etched on Zara's face and sensed that something was amiss. "Zara, are you okay?" Nafisat asked, her voice soft with concern.
Zara remained silent for a few minutes, lost in thought. Nafisat's question still lingered in the air, but Zara didn't respond directly. Instead, she opened her mouth to ask a question of her own. "Are you married?" she asked Nafisat.
Nafisat smiled warmly, happy to share about her personal life. "Yes, I am," she replied. "I've been married for 13 years now."
Nafisat's expression turned tender as she spoke about her husband. "My husband is a loving husband," she said, a warm smile on her face.
Zara's curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "How did you keep your husband?" She didn't mean to phrase it that way, but the words tumbled out before she could rephrase them.
Nafisat's smile faltered, and she hummed softly, unsure of how to respond to Zara's awkwardly phrased question.
Nafisat's expression turned thoughtful as she shared her insights. "I am no marriage counselor, but I think respect, communication..." She trailed off, as if remembering something. "And also, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach," she added with a smile.
Zara's mind began to whirl as she reflected on her situation with Lukman. She respected him, but maybe he wasn't seeing it. She had tried to communicate with him, but he had refused to listen.
Innocent and naive, Zara thought that maybe cooking something special for him would work. Perhaps, she thought, a delicious meal could be the key to winning him back.
Zara headed to the kitchen, determined to cook a delicious meal for Lukman. Since he hadn't had lunch yet, she decided to make his favorite jollof rice, accompanied by a fresh salad and fish pepper soup.
Nafisat, eager to assist, joined Zara in the kitchen and began cutting the salad and other ingredients, despite Zara's protests that she should rest. As they worked together, the kitchen was filled with the aroma of spices and the sound of lively chatter.
As they neared completion, Nafisat left the kitchen since zara insisted, leaving Zara to finish the final touches on the meal. With the salad and soup ready, Zara focused on perfecting the jollof rice, the last remaining task.
Doubt started creeping into Zara's mind, casting a shadow over her efforts. She began to think about the possibilities, and her mind was flooded with "what ifs". What if Lukman ignores her? What if he rejects her efforts?
The doubts swirled in her head, each one more unsettling than the last. What if nothing changes between them? The thought sent a pang of worry through her heart. Zara stood frozen, her eyes fixed on the same spot as she stared blankly into space, lost in her thoughts.
Just as Zara was lost in thought, Lukman suddenly entered the kitchen and swiftly turned off the gas. Zara's gaze snapped back to reality, and she turned to face Lukman, who was staring at her with a mixture of anger and frustration.
"Oh, sorry," Zara apologized, still trying to shake off the haze of her thoughts. She looked down to see that the food had indeed burned, the aroma of charred rice filling the air.
Lukman's voice boomed through the kitchen as he demanded, "Where is Nafisat?" He shouted her name, his frustration palpable, without even looking at Zara.
Then, he turned to face Zara, his expression stern. "If you can't cook, you should have asked Nafisat too," he scolded, his voice rising. "You almost burned us!" he yelled, his anger and annoyance clear.
"Sorry," Zara whispered again, her voice trembling as she struggled to hold back tears. Overwhelmed with emotion, she hastily left the kitchen, unable to bear the weight of Lukman's anger.
As she fled, Zara couldn't help but think that instead of making things right, she had only made them worse. The day that was supposed to bring them closer together had ended with Lukman yelling at her, leaving her feeling defeated and heartbroken.
____
As the evening unfolded, Zainab sat in the parlour, engrossed in her movie. Mubarak returned from his Isha prayer, and their eyes met briefly as he entered the room.
The morning encounter with Zainab seemed like a distant memory now. Mubarak hadn't seen her since she'd walked away, leaving him to his thoughts and the lingering sense of boredom he feared he'd inflicted upon her.
Mubarak made his way to sit beside her, though he is still feeling grateful for her help with his office work earlier that day.
"So, Zainab, what are you watching?" Mubarak asked, curiosity getting the better of him as he glanced at the screen.
"It's just Zee World's night series," Zainab replied, her eyes still fixed on the screen.
Mubarak's face lit up with a smile. "Okay, let's watch it together," he suggested, trying to sound enthusiastic.
Zainab raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden interest. "But I thought you had a football match to watch?" she asked.
Mubarak chuckled, trying to play it cool. "Yes, I did, but I prefer watching Zee World," he said, hiding his true feelings. In reality, he wasn't a fan of Zee World, but as long as it meant spending time with Zainab, he was willing to tolerate it, He didn't want to risk boring her like he had earlier.
Zainab thought to herself, "I may not like Mubarak, but I know most men love football, If he's willing to put aside his football to watch my series, then I can be selfless too and let him watch his match, even if it is just for today."
Zainab's skepticism led her to switch to Mubarak's football channel, sparking a lighthearted argument between them. Mubarak insisted that Zainab watch her Zee World, saying it was okay with him, while Zainab countered that Mubarak watch his football, and it would be okay with her.
Their playful debate continued until Mubarak finally conceded. "Fine," he said with a smile. "I'll watch football as long as we watch it together."
Zainab's face lit up with a smile. "Okay," she agreed, and the two settled in to watch the football match together.
As the football match began, Mubarak and Zainab sat in silence, their eyes fixed on the screen. The atmosphere was familiar to Zainab, reminiscent of times when her brothers would watch football, and she would find herself bored. This time was no exception, and she occasionally broke the monotony by pulling out her phone to scroll through it.
Mubarak, on the other hand, was completely absorbed in the game. He gave it his undivided attention, his eyes glued to the screen as he watched the players clash on the field. The silence between them was comfortable, with only the sounds of the commentary and cheers from the TV filling the room.
When the match finally came to an end, the silence that followed was almost palpable. Breaking the quiet, Mubarak began to speak to Zainab, his voice low and gentle. "Zainab, it's late already," he said, "did you still want me to switch to your channel or..."
But before he could finish his sentence, he turned to see Zainab's peaceful face, her eyes closed in slumber.
Zainab's peaceful slumber had caused her to slowly lean to one side, her body now gently resting against the couch cushions. Her gentle breathing was the only sound, as she remained completely unaware of Mubarak's watchful gaze.
Mubarak couldn't help but adore Zainab's face as she slept. Her peaceful features seemed to radiate an even more innocent charm, captivating his attention.
As he gazed at her, Mubarak's lips curled into a gentle smile. However, his mind was torn with indecision. He wondered whether he should gently wake her up and ask her to retire to her room, or if he should take matters into his own hands and carry her there himself.
Mubarak decided to take a gentle approach and carefully picked Zainab up, intending to carry her to the comfort of her room.
As he lifted her into his arms, he was taken aback by her weight. She was heavier than he had anticipated, but not in an unpleasant way. Zainab's thick and curvy figure made her a bit more substantial than he had expected.
In a split second, Mubarak's balance faltered, and he felt himself falling backward onto the chair. Before he could react, Zainab's body slid on top of his.
Zainab's face landed softly on Mubarak's chest, sending a wave of shivers down his spine. He hummed softly as he listened to her gentle snores, amazed that despite the sudden movement, she remained fast asleep.
A smile spread across Mubarak's face as he thought to himself, "Of all the things, she's still sleeping." He couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. Now, he found himself in a predicament, unsure of how to extract himself from this unexpected position without waking her up.
_____
As morning dawned, Zainab slowly came to, aware of a soft, gentle breathing close to her. She tried to sit up, but her body felt heavy, as if pinned down. Her eyes snapped open, and she froze, her heart racing with surprise.
"Oh no," she whispered, her voice trembling as she took in the shocking sight. She was lying on top of Mubarak, her body pressed against his, and his arms were wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her in place.
Zainab's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and embarrassment as she struggled to recall how she ended up in such a position with Mubarak. She racked her brain, trying to remember the events of the previous night, but her memories were hazy. The last thing she remembered was watching the football match with Mubarak, and then...nothing. How did she go from sitting on the couch to sleeping on top of him? The not knowing was almost as unsettling as the situation itself.
Zainab made another attempt to rise, but Mubarak's grip on her waist was unyielding. His strong arms held her firmly in place, making it impossible for her to break free.
As she struggled to push herself up, Zainab lost her balance and fell back onto his chest again. This time, her face landed inches from his, their noses almost touching. She was left staring at Mubarak's peaceful face, her eyes locked onto his calm features. The proximity was unsettling, yet she couldn't look away.
As Zainab gazed at Mubarak's face, she couldn't help but notice his striking features. His full, black brows framed his eyes perfectly, and his pointed nose and thin pink lips added to his chiseled look.
Just as she was about to take in the rest of his features, Zainab hastily looked away, afraid of where her gaze might wander next. But her eyes betrayed her, and she found herself stealing a glance at his hair. She was taken aback by how much she admired its texture.
Mubarak's hair was a rich, deep black, with a subtle sheen that caught Zainab's eye. Its natural texture was effortlessly beautiful, and she couldn't help but notice how soft it looked. The gentle curls at the ends added a touch of elegance, framing his face perfectly.
Zainab's curiosity got the better of her, and before she knew it, her hands had reached out to touch Mubarak's hair. She wanted to feel its softness for herself, to confirm if it was as silky as it looked. Just as her fingers made contact with his head, Mubarak's eyes snapped open, catching her off guard.
Zainab's face flushed with embarrassment as she quickly withdrew her hands from Mubarak's head. She scrambled to get up, and this time, Mubarak released his grip on her waist. Freed from his grasp, Zainab hastily rose to her feet and made a beeline for her room, her embarrassment propelling her forward.
Zainab closed her bedroom door behind her and collapsed against it, sliding down to sit on the floor. She buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed with shame and embarrassment. How could she, "What was I thinking" she thought.
As she sat there, hugging herself tightly, Zainab's mind racing with thoughts of what Mubarak must think of her now. Did he think she was forward, or worse, desperate? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she groaned in mortification.
Mubarak sat in the parlour, his gaze fixed on the direction Zainab had hastily departed in. For a moment, he remained still, his expression thoughtful as he processed the sudden and awkward encounter.
However, he didn't dwell on it for long. The sound of the Fajr prayer call drifted through the air, reminding him that it was time for morning prayers. With a gentle shift in his attention, Mubarak rose from the couch and headed to his room to prepare for his prayers, leaving the puzzling encounter with Zainab behind.
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