Trust Me (An Islamic Love Story)

Chapter 36

Azar's hand lingers as we both pull away our hands at the same time. There is a long pause between us, and we seem to be avoiding each other's eyes. Our argument seems to have dissipated quickly. I awkwardly ask, "Why don't we go home now? Or do you want to eat first?"

"Let's go home," he says and begins packing food back into the container.

"The food—" I start, but Azar interrupts me.

"Don't worry, I'll give it to the guard."

"Why did you bring me here in the first place?" I inquire as I contemplate whether to help him or not.

"Because I couldn't risk for anyone to eavesdrop on our conversation," Azar replies. I can't disagree with this logic, given how much we were yelling. I decide to give him a hand anyway because the quicker we leave, the better.

"I was thinking that you must have been missing your parents." He nervously coughs at the end of the sentence. "Do you want me to drop you off there on my way home?"

A faint smile spreads over my lips, despite everything. "Is that your way of saying get out of my house?"

"No," Azar refutes, sounding very defensive. "I just thought... maybe... you are feeling homesick as you are away from them this long. I definitely would have felt homesick," he stops rambling when he looks up at me, and I notice his hand is hovering in the air. It takes me a second to register. It is because I am smiling.

I immediately stop doing so, and I take the container from his hovering hand. It snaps him back to reality. "Sometimes, people don't feel the same even if they are going through the same thing," I remark instead.

"So... is that a no or a yes?" he asks after a pause. "Women," he mutters under his breath.

"I want to go home —I mean to your house— and ask Mama first," I elaborate, feeling weird internally. How easily we fall back to our conversation as if we weren't fighting moments ago.

"She will be fine with it," he shrugs it off carelessly. "Trust me, I know her very well."

And all of a sudden, Azar's face flashes in my mind, his hands firm on my shoulders, telling me to trust him, consoling me, telling me everything is okay.

"Angel?" I almost wince. It is okay. It is okay, Abeer. It is fine. "Is something wrong?"

"Huh?" I swallow. "No, I'm okay. I was saying I want to ask her anyways in person. I know she won't mind, but still."

"Okay, let's go then." He picks up the plastic bags and leaves the room.

As I follow him outside to the car, I ponder how he plans to convince me to initiate the divorce to make him look like the victim and me like a criminal.

Even though it isn't justified how he treated me, deep down, I can't help but wonder what Mishal did to push him to be this disbelieving of people. It feels strange to think about someone else's mess for once. It feels like a good distraction. Azar has always had an element of mystery around him, and apart from when he is not boasting about his looks, he hardly ever talks about himself. I am curious about him alright, but not curious enough. I can't go on nagging him about his life when he isn't prying into mine.

I wish I could reverse the events of last night somehow, I think as we drive away. Now it will haunt me forever.

"You know, sometimes it is okay to not be strong too," Azar interjects me out of my mind as if he read my thoughts. Does he really mean it when he called me strong? Why would he think so when he has seen me in my most vulnerable state? I don't have the heart to ask.