Heart on Lock *7*

 “Do you really have to go?” Yaqoub asked me, just as I unbuckled myself from his car. His actual car, not the racing one. 

“I have a stupid milcha I have to attend,” I said, finishing the last of my McDonald’s Coke I’d gotten with him at the drive-thru during our cruise. We’d gone on a long drive, to nowhere in particular. 

We couldn't stop talking, catching every word the other let fall, both of us reaching quietly for more of who the other was, ravenous to be known. 

“I’m sure you’ll look beautiful,” he said, smiling. My heart could burst out of my chest. My body swelled with emotion, and I was worried I was feeling too much too soon. We’d only seen each other daily for just a little over two weeks now. It felt like two years. 

“I will. Too bad you won’t see me,” I teased with a wink. 

“I kind of know where you live,” he said, challenging me. 

“I kind of lied,” I said, an he cocked his head, confused.

“Remember the beige house on the corner?” I said. He nodded.

“The one that looked like a palace?” he said, and I smiled.

“That’s your house?” he said, incredulous. “Wow.” He lifted his brows, trying to picture my house in his head.

“Now you know,” I said, lifting my shoulder. He laughed and stroked the back of my hand his thumb. 

I relaxed, closing my eyes, feeling his skin against mine.

“I…I don’t want you to judge me for today, Yaqoub,” I said, opening my eyes slowly. I glanced at him, and his eyebrows scrunched. He shook his head. 

“Never,” he said. “I’m just as guilty as you.”

Only he wasn’t engaged. As far as I knew. 

“I really enjoyed today. I kind of needed this,” I said, smiling softly but it felt pathetic. 

“Me too. I’m glad you came,” he said, smiling back. “Let’s do this every month. One day off. How does that sound?”

I nodded with a smile.

“Sounds perfect,” I replied. As I was about to leave his car, he smiled at me with a hint of sadness. “Take care.” 

“I’ll see you tonight, don’t forget,” I said with a wink, and he laughed, staring at me in awe as I walked to my car. 

He didn’t see the tear that fell from my cheek. I couldn’t let him. I wanted this to last as long as it could. 

*

My sleeveless Chanel tweed dress was a perfect fit, fortunately. My hair was in a slick low-bun, bringing out my statement earrings and flawless makeup. 

My mother stood before me, running her eyes over my outfit repeatedly. 

“Okay,” she finally said, convinced. It was a bit risky with it being over the knees, but my monthly Moroccan baths paid off.

“Did you tell the driver to have the Rolls ready?” she asked me, and I nodded, grabbing my clutch bag. I couldn’t have Jude pick me up because my mother was particular about me being dropped off in the Rolls. 

“Make sure you greet everyone you know. Don’t pretend you didn’t see them—they’ll know,” she said; and it came off like a threat. I was engaged to the spouse she dreamed of for me. I thought I was done. 

“Inshallah,” I just said, wrapping my fur coat around me, leaving my wing. I take a quick picture, fur coat falling from one of my shoulders, and the lighting in the elevator was perfect, bringing out just the right details. I didn’t send it to him, not yet. 

Talal never even crossed my mind. He’d probably judge me; think I was too easy, a desperate girl with no self-respect. He was proper like that. 

I got into the car and texted Jude that I was on my way. 

“Maam, what time I come?” the driver asked me.

“It’s okay, my brother will take me,” I said. It was true, my mother did ask Razzaq to pick me up. I was a bit disappointed but there was no way I’d let Yaqoub pass by to see me after the party. I guess the picture would do.

I arrived at the venue, inside my mother’s second cousin’s house. It was nice, but not as nice as mine. I’d like to think that maybe I didn’t get that many proposals because of how nice our house was. It was hard to measure up, but Talal did, unfortunately.

For some reason, I didn’t care how Yaqoub’s house looked like. I knew it was in Surra, that was what he told me, but I had a weird inkling to see it for myself. Not to judge, but to get to know him more. 

I took off my coat, taming my loose baby hairs in the mirror before entering. It was almost nine, and I was late but my mother liked it that way. I'd stand out when I'd walk in, having the entry only for me and not anyone else. She also liked how I'd be easy to spot and talked about. What else for? I had no idea. 

The milcha was a bit small, with rows and rows of women pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, and the view was already making me nauseated. The decor was great, though with just the right placement of white flowers, and a general serene white theme. It made the house look a bit bigger than it was. 

I’d garnered a few glances, but I’d like to think they were a lot more than I noticed. I walked to the empty seat next to Jude, shuffling through older women to sit next to her. She looked nice in a royal green pants and sleeveless top set. 

“What did I miss?” I asked her, looking around. She got the seats at the back of the room––perfect for gossiping without being seen.

“Not much. You look nice,” she said, eyeing me. “Did he get to see you?” she whispered and I nudged her.

“Shut up,” I said, rolling my eyes. No, and he wouldn’t. "I'm exhausted, I took a day off from work today," I said. I got an Arabic coffee from the woman serving it, and a small chocolate to go with it. 

"You had to come, I assume?" she asked, looking arouund.

"Mother Lamees wouldn't take no for an answer," I said, cringing at the awful apricot filling inside the chocolate. I spat it out swiftly into a napkin. 

“Do we know anyone here apart from the usual cousins?” I asked, and she shrugged.

“Not anyone you’re dying to see, I think,” she replied with a shrug. I looked around, but I wasn’t sure who I wanted to see. 

My brows raised at a stunningly beautiful girl around my age, walking in a beautiful halter black dress. She was model-like, tall and skinny, tanned skin, and a face to die for: the perfect facial structure, high cheekbones, full lips, enticing eyes, and a small nose. The worst part was it all looked natural. She was clearly born this way. 

“Who is that girl over there?” I asked Jude, keeping an eye on the girl in black. It wasn’t just me who was staring; everyone else was infatuated. She got the amount of looks I thought I'd gotten. 

“I think her name is Maha,” Jude said. “She just launched a clothing line and she’s wearing her dress. I think she was in Razzaq’s grade at school,” she told me. 

Razzaq never mentioned a Maha. I would’ve seen her in yearbooks, but maybe she opted out of photos. It seemed like it. 

“She’s gorgeous,” Jude said, staring at her, too. I didn’t want to push and ask for her last name, so I did my own research. 

I quickly went on Instagram and looked up my brother’s name then went onto his following list, typing “Maha”, but I got barely any results. Just two cousins. 

Whatever. Why was I so insecure compared to her?

“Let’s dance. His mom is here,” Jude said, wiggling her brows at me. She really thought I was smitten with. Talal. I could feel nausea rise up in my throat.

I walked with Jude to the of the dance floor in the middle of the makeshift ballroom, then move my hips to the beat of the music. I sensed Talal’s mother staring at me admirably. I wanted to throw up now. 

“Bathroom,” I said, tapping Jude on the shoulder. 

We dashed from the main dance area, and snaked through people to the restroom, where there was an open sink area in front of two stalls. I instantly went into one of the stalls, and once I was inside I took a deep breath. I hovered over the toilet but nothing but spit came out. Why was I doing this to myself? 

I wiped my lips and reapplied my lipstick once I was out. The door opened and Maha walked in. She was intimidatingly striking up close. She saw me ogling, and offered a quick smile before entering the stall next to mine. 

I sent a text to Razzaq asking him to pick me up. I was starting to feel sick. I faked it into existence. 

“Jude, I don’t feel so good,” I told Jude. 

“Yeah, your face looks really pale all of a sudden,” she replied, looking at me with concern. 

“Thank God, Razzaq said he’s ten minutes away,” I said as we walked out of the bathroom. 

“You’re leaving already?” she asked me, and I nodded. Keeping up a lie was starting to eat away at me. I couldn’t keep it up for long. I was going to burst. I had to tell someone, and it sure wasn't going to be Jude. I grabbed my fur coat from my seat and sat next to the exit. I booked it once my brother texted he was outside. Thank God my mother wasn’t there to berate me. It was only ten. 

“Thank you so much,” I said, getting into Razzaq's Defender, his “casual” car. 

“You okay?” he asked me, steering away from the wheel. He was wearing a quarter zip sweater and jeans, hardly a chalet outfit. 

“It was so claustrophobic, I felt like I was dying,” I said, taking off the fur coat to get some air and he chuckled. 

I sat back in the seat, relaxing as I looked at the time again to make sure I didn't get it wrong. It was still early. 

“Is Mama home?” I asked him, and he shook his head.

“She’s at the chalet. She took the twins so it’s just us at home. Do you want to go tomorrow morning?” he asked me. I shrugged. 

“Sure, let me sleep this off,” I said. “Are you staying home after you drop me off?” 

He looked at me pensively then shrugged back. “Will you be okay if I came back three hours later?”

“Of course. I’m not on my death bed. I’ll lock the doors and text you if I needed anything,” I said, and he chuckled. “Where are you going?” I asked him. He shrugged. 

“My friend Abdullah’s duwaniya,” he replied, looking out the window. I nodded. 

“I saw someone at the milcha you might know. She was in your grade, I think. Maha?” I asked him. 

He furrowed a brow, trying to remember. 

“You can’t possibly forget her. She’s literally a goddess,” I said, and he laughed.

“Oh, yeah, I know who you mean,” he said. “I haven’t seen her in years. What brings her up?” he said, making the familiar turn to our block. 

“Nothing,” I said, looking out the window. He put a hand over my forehead, and I slapped it away. 

“I don’t have a fever,” I said. 

“You’re about to. You’re acting strange,” he said, just as he parked in front of the house. 

“Thank you, mon frère,” I said, opening the door.

“Text me every ten minutes,” he said, and I rolled my eyes before I closed the door. My brother drove off after he watched me walk inside the gates. 

I looked at the time. 

I needed to make sure of what I was doing. I sent Yaqoub a message. 

Free for a spin? 

My car ;)