Chapter 1
"Yalla Habibi wake up, its brighter now," its blur as he opened his eyes, squeezing them to have a more satisfying look. He echoed a tiring yawn and relaxed his head back on the pillow.
"Wake up" the voice repeated.
He opened his eyes and sighted a slim manicured hand, proffering a rimless thick-lenses to his face. He seized her wrist and dashed out a warm peck on the palm.
"Get up and be quick," she said, curling her fingers repeatedly.
He showered quickly and got dressed in a casual white thawb and kafiyyeh. He walked hastily to an antiquated dining area with beautiful baroque prints on the walls.
Everything on the table was set; Falafel, Labneh, and roasted chicken with green beans Saffron rice. He surprisingly stood thinking how early she woke up to prepare all the appetizing cuisines.
He moved out a black wooden chair and settled on the creamy slipcover that gave the sofa a fresh streamlined look.
Why would Nabeela think the dining area is old-fashioned
He thought, admiring the rectangular table of 8 made from cerused-oak wood.
Something about how he smiled at the zebra-print apron on the table revealed his poor taste in modern day decoration. The glossy black paint on the furniture gave it a clumsy view, sucking up the natural beauty of the flowers placed inside a glass jar on the table.
"Sorry, the tea will soon be ready" Nabeela said, holding a tray of baked cheese, the golden color added up few contrast to the tray steaming up dry smell of a cooked cheese.
"We are redecorating the table Anwar" Nabeela blurted, cutting whatever strolling thought in his mind. He glared at her over the glasses with a mortified face.
"Ya Allah, seriously?'' Nabeela giggled after a brief glance at his outfit.
"What is wrong?" Anwar stumbled. He looked exactly same spot Nabeela glanced before she started to chuckle.
"It's an interview Anwar, not a gulf summit" Nabeela said.
"Go and change, yalla," Nabeela urged.
She paced to the kitchen to turn off the purring tea kettle.
Anwar stood in the middle of 50 square meters room, thinking of how to coordinate an outfit that best confirm Nabeela's interest.
His face remained scattered, penetrating between layers of confusion as he opened an extensive closet, skimming through tenths of reglans, round necks, short and long sleeve shirts. He pulled out a long sleeve shirt and a blazer, a dark blue jeans and a bow tie.
"How do i look" he asked, wiping the air on his shoulders.
"Wow, MashaAllah," she exclaimed, removing out the solid black bow tie.
"Now you just look like a college professor" her calm tone placed a smile on Anwar's face.
He quickly sat on the dining chair and launched a moderate sized kanafeh to his mouth. Crispy on top, soft and creamy in the middle.
Nabeela placed down a customised dallah filled with flavored tea on the table. One thing he dares not to forget even after death is the taste of her tea. The cloves and mint compete to hit his nose while the cinnamon diffuses everywhere, with the ginger scenting low but a bit harsh as it find its way down his throat.
"Make sure you eat lunch at exactly 12, ok? Don't forget, i have a mirror watching you over there" Nabeela said, pouring some of the tea to a small cup.
The ornamental Paisley designs on her hand was more of a masterpiece than a henna tattoo, her black glossy nails glinted like a graphite amidst a sack filled with diamonds.
"Yes Mam" he mockingly replied.
The one special thing about young couples is, despite the hurdles, flaw and failure the world expect from them, they still chose to hold each other hands and promise fidelity.
"Anwar habiby, you're running late" Nabeela said, staring at a bracelet watch on her thin wrist.
His destination is a drive of 30 minutes at 60 km/h, arriving late for an interview is not how she wanted him to start. She grabbed a black leather-exterior bag at the end part of the table.
"Your lunch is inside" Nabeela said, and lifted the bag up.
In the last minute, Anwar noticed his beautiful wife avoiding his gaze, for a reason he already apprehended.
"We've talked about this habibty" he said.
The warm heat in the kitchen must've made perspiration to darken her white full sleeved shirt. Her scarf went off and resided on the shoulders.
"I'm here, we re all fine and Alhamdulillah this is the harmless, most secured job i could ever dream of" he added, resting his arm on her shoulder. Time heals everything, but only if the mind ceased to remind our body the gravity of the tragic event.
Nabeela made a heavy sigh and tapped Anwar's resting arm on her shoulder. Finally looking straight into his charming eyes.
"Khalas. Bye" Nabeela said, wearing a warmly smile.
"See you soon habibty, I'll call you as soon as i get there" he said and balanced the bag strings on his shoulder and drifted.
Few inches to the door, Nabeela yelled,
"Wait, your shirt collar is folded" she said and approached him quickly.
She lifted her legs and wrapped her two arms round his neck while he stood still, trying so hard to prevent her tears from flooding, her phone buzzed, vibrating from the table, she took a glance at the phone and Anwar saw her dimmed eyes, barely holding back a flood.
He stared at her gorgeous face and clenched her tight with his arms, the world stopped at it's axis for a moment, she felt his scent settling down her nerves, the density was just much for her and then she bursted.
"Pls don't leave me again" Nabeela sobbed.
"I wont habibty" he said. After a minute, a sharp sound came from the kitchen and ended a vow declaration.
"Ok habiby, you're good to go" Nabeela said, tapping his thin chest.
He wiped the tears off her face with his hands and replaced her scarf,
"You are good to go too" he replied.
