More Than You Know (Muneera ◇ 3)

December 2018

London was even colder than I had expected. I joined my cousins at the cafe they hung out at every afternoon. They would sit for around three hours, just people watching and calling the creme de la creme of society to join them just to get their connections done. 

I sat two seats across from Rawan, who I still wasn't on good terms with. She was snottier than ever and made sure I knew my place. 

Her eyes met mine and she locked her lips, smiling that smile I knew I should worry about. 

She leaned in closer as if to talk to me, perfect curls falling against her shoulders. 

My stomach clenched in anticipation at she was going to say.

“تعالي منور صح، شلون دانة مع المعرض؟ أنا كلمتها قبل المعرض بس، يبيلي ادق عليها. بس المهم شتقول؟ عشان اعرف إذا هي مستانسة منه ولا لا"

She said, knowing my sister's relationship with me still want really...normal.

My jaws clenched. I felt five of my cousins turn towards me. 

How was I supposed to know? 

I didn't even know she was in an exhibition in New York until my mom told me to say bye to Danah.

"كل يوم غير عن الثاني بس الحمدلله لحد الحين مستأنسة"

I lied. I had no idea how the exhibition was and I didn't even know if it was for a day or more. 

"اها"

Rawan said, unconvinced.

I stood up from my seat.

"سوري واعدت أمي بطلع معاها الساعة ٤:٣٠. أشوفكم ان شاء الله على العشا"

I lied again and waved hastily to them. 

I knew it made me look like I was dodging questions about Danah but I'd rather  dodge them than get caught lying. 

I almost ran to the hotel, paranoid they might drag me back to the cafe. 

I had to walk two more blocks straight and three left before I arrived breathless at the hotel. 

I entered the lobby of the hotel, finding it crowded with arabs, most likely Kuwaitis, much to my dismay. It was probably a new flight. 

I zigzagged through the crowds, disappointed that I was speaking Arabic to strangers when I was supposed to talk to them in English.

I got into the glass elevator and I pressed the button to the ninth floor. 

I turned to see the lobby through the glass walls of the elevator. 

My stomach squeezed, almost like it knew what I was going to see next. 

My eyes caught the side profile of a familiar face who was wearing a cap backwards and speaking to another guy, probably his friend. 

As if he could sense my eyes on him he turned his face towards me and my stomach dropped, now that it was sure of the person I was looking at. 

Fahad. 

He, too, looked surprised to see me as he stopped listening to his friend and locked his eyes on mine. 

The elevator began to go up, but our eyes still locked and continued to until he was no longer in view. 

I gulped. 

Was it really him?...