Chapter 27: Guilt.

It was Friday and she had just closed early from work. She packed her belongings and left the office. Picking up her pace, she walked to her car and hopped in. She had a date with Muhammad that night. It was going to be the third time she was seeing him. The first time was when they met at Aldo's restaurant and the second time was at her office; it was eerie but she loved the visit—he bought her flowers and lunch.
They sat in her office and spoke about everything, and whatnot. He asked her where she lived and if she was single – Bushra froze when he asked. She didn't want to lie to him. With him, her life felt complete and for the first time, she could admit that she was happy to be around a man. And lying to him was the last thing she'd want to do. Mercy walked in on them – they kept a great distance luckily but she looked at them as though they were doing something aberrant.
Mercy was looking for any sort of way to embarrass Bushra. She had spread the rumor that Bushra was bringing men to her office despite being married. She didn't care, it wasn't the first time she was hearing rumors about her, spread by mercy.
But one thing; Bushra was slowly counting the days she will retaliate on mercy. The day she decides to confront her and act on her, it wasn't going to be a good day and she wouldn't care one bit! Even if it would cost her her job.
BluCabana Restaurant & Café
Bushra had arrived to their fixed location. She glances over her wrist watch – she was fifteen minutes late but, nevertheless she still made it.
She adjusts her veil and hopped out of the car. Glancing around, she walks to the entrance. Her heart was beating as though it wanted to complete a marathon. For some reason, she wasn't feeling herself. She felt as if someone was watching her or Mahir would appear in front of her. It didn't feel right to her – not when he had shown her his wrath and how she had never for once seen him with any woman – not even when he had taken her to his office a couple of times – not even when she took his phone and scanned through his call log and WhatsApp. Yes, she did check his phone. It was only once and she needed to clear her mind off what had been pestering her. She had found nothing in his phone but bunch of business partners and meeting schedules. She had seen a lot of women hitting on him that she was sure he hadn't even noticed their messages or he was just ignoring them. She didn't care – but she was at ease to find out he wasn't seeing anyone. She didn't want him giving any woman attention, even if it was work, she didn't want him seeing anyone or having the thought of having a relationship with them, but she wanted to have someone to keep her company, at least until she finds her Mr. Right. Yes, she was that egotistic.
She spotted him at the last booth by the right side of the room. He waved at her and she returned a smile, and walked towards him. She took slow and small steps, whispering any Dua that crosses her mind. She was nervous, it wasn't only because she was meeting him – it was because she was meeting him in an open space she felt as though Mahir was watching her or he had someone keeping an eye on her. That – it was possible. He had done that before, even before they got married. Have his men stand in a clandestine corner and watch her as she goes about with her life activities.
'You're finally here," he said, his voice filled with excitement. His soothing voice calmed her nervous. She nods her head; a smile never left her lips. 'I'm so sorry for coming late. The traffic is always hectic when it's closing time." He helped her with her sit and she mouthed a ‘Thank you.'
'It's okay, I understand. Shall we order? I know you must be hungry and I don't want to keep you out late."
She nods without hesitation. She didn't care that she was tired or hungry. All she wanted was the date to be over and she gets to head home.
'Their food is the best, you should unquestionably try their charcoaled meat – you won't regret, I promise." He waved at the waiter as he suggested their best dishes to her. She only sat there, listening to him and nodding. It was at the moment she noticed how handsome Muhammad was.
He had a narrow, thin face with prominent cheekbones and chin. He had a well, lined eyebrows and above them was a scar she'd love to hear the story about. His eyes – they seem to sparkle when it met hers. He had a well-shaped nose. Bushra gaze drops to his lips, briskly, she took her eyes off as her heart fluttered with shock. She was mesmerized by the movement of his lips and she couldn't restrain herself from looking at them.
'Bushra?" He calls out, worriedly. She snaps her head up and look at him. 'Hmm? Sorry, I'm just a bit tired," she said and chuckled nervously. He smiled and nodded, 'That's why won't take long. What would you like to have?" He asked, the waiter standing before their table. He had a small notepad and pen in hand, ready to write down their order.
'Just anything you think is good. I mean, you know this place better than I do." She gives him an assuring smile and he nodded. He ordered away and the waiter excused himself.
Muhammad relaxed back on his chair; his eyes fixed on her. 'Tell me," he began, a smile passing his lips. Bushra looks at him, her eyes almost bulging out of its outlet. What was he going to ask her? Why doesn't she answer his calls in the night? Or why wouldn't she let him visit her at her place? It would've been ridiculously crazy for Muhammad to just show up at her house and Mahir would be at home at the time. She breaths out, waiting for him to talk.
'How is it that… you speak a lot when we talk on phone but so cautious and quiet when we meet in person? Or you're not comfortable around me?" He shoots his eyebrows up when he asked the question. She heaved a sigh – she was expecting the worse to happen.
In her view, she wasn't uncomfortable around him– she was uncomfortable being in public with another man that wasn't Mahir. Why didn't he book the VIP instead or the whole restaurant like Mahir does? Oh, yes… he was just a standard draftsman with a reasonable remuneration.
'I'm an introvert and I tend to get a little edgy when I'm in public." She hugs herself as though she was cold – it was a bit warm and welcoming. It was uneasiness.
'Oh…" He mouths, looking around. The room was a bit jam-packed and didn't seem to notice that until Bushra brought it up. 'But it's okay, I know you didn't know that." She offers him an assuring smile and he returned it.
'What does your ideal partner look like?" He asked, out of the blue. Her heart drops – she might not have heard him well. 'What are you looking for in a partner I mean," he says when he noticed the misperception and hindrance on her face.
'Oh…" she mouthed and heaved a sigh of ease. 'You know…I want someone respectful, someone that I can trust without hesitation, good communication, anger management, someone that'll always open up to me. And someone I can gossip with in the middle of the night." They both left out hearty laughter at Bushra last statement.
His face turns serious as he gazes at her – they shared a smile. There was something about him Bushra couldn't describe even if she tried to. But whatever it was, she loved it – she loves how she was feeling just by looking at him. 'Something about you… it just feels… right to be around you." He confessed.
She lets out her breath, relinquishing to Muhammad's sympathetic words. For a moment, it feels as if the entire room melted away. No sparkling light nor loud conversations…
'Here's your order," the waiter interrupts. He drops the plates on the table as they stared at each other. Bushra takes her eyes off him, clearing her throat. The staring contest was overly intense for her to grip.
'Let's eat," he said and picks up the utensils to eat.
They finished dinner and left the restaurant after.
He walked her to her car and bade her good night, promising to call her tonight. She didn't want that – she couldn't say no to him. How could she stop him from calling her when she haven't told him that she has husband? And it was surprising that he hadn't found out she's married.
'Bushra?" She heard her name being called out. Her heart sunk with implausible fear, knowing whose voice that was. Unhurriedly, she looked at the path Muhammad followed; he had left already. She turned around and faced Mansur.
'Mansur, hey…" she said, timidly. She was feeling light-headed and her legs felt as though they were going to fail her.
She needed to sit or she'd pass out.
Maybe – she was over reacting to the matter. 'I thought it was you. What brings you here? With…" he pauses, glancing over to where Muhammad had his car parked before he left. She followed his gaze and stuttered. 'Oh… uh… he's a… client. Yes, a client." She had almost blustered it.
'Oh," he said shortly – his lips shaped like an ‘O'. She nods at him, followed by a silence. It wasn't a comfortable one and didn't know what to say next. She wanted to leave but didn't want it to look as though she was guilty—she is guilty. She had her eyes anywhere but Mansur's way.
'It's getting late, I think you should get going, okay? My regards to the boss." He told her and all she could do was nod. Everything was all so weird. Her chest was still constricted and her stomach was flipping, and she couldn't tell if its leftover nerves from bumping into her husband's best friend or it was Muhammad benevolent words.
Bushra finally enters her car and heads home, hoping Mahir wasn't back from work yet.
The house was silent with only few workers walking about and sending their greetings reverentially to Bushra, as she hurriedly made her way to her room.
She didn't realize she was holding her breath until she found herself in her room, door locked. She heaved a sigh of relief, walking further into the room. She kicked off her shoes and threw her bag across the room, landing on the couch nearby.
She moved to the switch and turned on the light. Her heart drops as the walls suddenly begin to rotate around her.
He had his livid eyes fixed on her. Nostrils flaring, he got to his feet from the couch, fist clenched at his sides. 'I went to your office hours ago unfortunately; you have already left. I called your phone; it wasn't going through. I came home, you weren't back. Care to tell where you've been all night?" He asked, approaching her just as she slowly took steps backwards. She could tell he was so angry by the sound of his voice left alone the veins visible on his neck and temple.
She was terrified, not because of his appearance at the moment – he had warned her about Muhammad, and she was late. Maybe he didn't know where she was.
'I was at…" Her voice falters. She shots her eyes close and opened them almost immediately. 'I was with my sister, Yasmin and Madina." She was frightened of how she had erudite to come up with lies so cursorily. It troubles her.
'Really?" He shoots his brows up when he spoke. 'At BluCabana Restaurant?" He said, sardonically.
She could hear the frantic beat of her heart. It felt like it was going to escape from her ribcage. She had nothing to say now – she couldn't come up with a lie to defend herself. She would only complicate things for herself.
'Why are you questioning me about my whereabouts as if I'm a child or I'm an irresponsible adult that needs to be watched? I went out on a date, so what? Why bother yourself when we both agreed to see other people?" She didn't realize she had said that until she heard the loud growling, followed by a loud crash across the room.
It was her vase – with the roses he bought her when he wanted to apologize to her. She felt the tears threatening to fall, but swallowed them back. She needn't to show him her dimness.
'You… after I've firmly warned you to stay away from him or anybody?" He was so flamboyant and thunderous that she found it hard to comprehend what he had said. One thing she knew – he was trying to go against what he had said, what he had promised her.
How didn't she see that coming? What does he want from her exactly? He wanted them to stay together? Live as husband and wife?
'Are you…" Her words diminish, trying to authorize what she had in mind. 'What do you want me to do then? We freaking agreed to this and signed a goddamn marriage contract, now you want to go against it? Because I'm more happier with him? Oh, scratch that – I have never been happy with a man until I met Muhammad and… I don't see any reason why I'd leave him." She affirmed, her chest heaving up and down.
They stood there, facing each other across the room. His muscles grew tense – he could almost feel his blood boiling in his veins.
He brushed passed her and stormed out of the room.
Without looking back, she burst into desolate tears. She had been holding for too long and she couldn't hold it anymore.
She wasn't even bothered about how Mahir felt or what he thinks.
She was concerned about Muhammad – what if Mahir finds him and gets him sacked like he did with Sadiq? What if he gets him kidnapped and beaten up? Mahir was a complete definition of a mafia boss, and he could absolutely do that.
He's insane.
Her bigger problem was—what if Muhammad finds out she's married and he doesn't want to be with her even after her divorce with Mahir?