"You really live here?" I asked, astonished by the spiral staircase.

Ibrahim casually shrugged off his coat, putting it in the closet near the front doors. "Yeah," he said.

My fingers touched the smooth white walls of the house, the carpet was soft under my toes. They were red and brown swirled designs, almost like a carpet made for a king. I glanced at Ibrahim, who was fixing his hair in the mirror beside the staircase. He was as close to a king than anyone else.

I watched as he ran his fingers through his coal black hair, tousling it to one side. When he was satisfied, he gave a small smile at himself through the mirror and dragged his luggage up the staircase.

"You coming?" he asked without looking at me.

I quickly snapped out of my thoughts and nodded.

I followed Ibrahim up the flights of stairs, he led me down a huge hallway with five rooms on one floor. I didn't realize Ibrahim needed this much space in his house, considering the fact that Ibrahim only lived with his little brother.

The hallway seemed endless. It seemed like it could go on forever. I still couldn't get over the beauty of his- our house. It was like a dream I didn't want to wake up from.

Ibrahim stopped walking, turning to me. "This is your room," he opened the door, revealing a huge bedroom with red covers and sheets.

I felt my jaw drop. My bedroom was a dark red color, the curtains were made from heavy red fabric and the bed was a queen sized bed with the same shade. There were multiple pillows piled neatly on the bed and a small shelf of books in the corner of the room.

The carpet was the same as the floor below, which pleased me even more. On the other side of the room was a small desk filled with notebooks and pens. There was even a bunch of art supplies and canvases beside the desk. I was in awe as I walked deeper into the room.

"This is beautiful," I said softly before pausing. "Wait, we're not sharing a room?"

Ibrahim shook his head. "I like my privacy," he replied.

I furrowed my eyebrows, "I thought that since we're a couple-"

"Well, you thought wrong," he interrupted. His eyes were cold as he glanced at me. "Enjoy your new room. If you need anything, I'll be in my office."

He slammed the door on his way out. I flinched at the sound. What was his problem? This morning he was kissing my neck and treating me like his wife and now he was giving me the cold shoulder. We slept in the same bed last night, why couldn't we do the same now? I rubbed my temples. I needed to just give him his space. Maybe after a while he'll grow to love me.

"Nothing in life ever comes easy," I whispered to myself.

I sighed and looked around the room. I better start unpacking, I thought as I pulled my bags on the large bed.

* * * *

Knock Knock.

I quickly put my hijab on. "Come in," I said.

Bashir slowly opened the door. When he saw that I was wearing my hijab, he casually strolled into the room, flopping down on my bed. I smiled at the young boy. He was hitting the age of puberty now so it meant that I had to have my hijab on when he was around.

"To what do I owe this visit?" I asked, amused.

"Ibrahim said to come down for lunch."

I felt my smile drop as I heard his name. My hands went up to gently caress my arms. I felt like Ibrahim didn't even see me as a wife. He acted so different this morning, showing me a glimpse of the small affection he kept hidden. Now, we were back at square one. Bashir noticed my sunken expression and sat back up.

"You okay?"

"Your brother... is he always this oh I don't know closed off?" I asked nervously.

Bashir smiled sadly at me, "I'm sorry about how my brother has been treating you. He really does mean well. Give him a chance."

"I know, but it's just hard. You know, getting the cold shoulder."

He jumped off the bed, blowing his pitch black hair away from his face. "I could talk to him for you," he offered.

"Seriously, it's all okay. Don't worry about it," my lips formed a tight smile.

He uneasily glanced at me, obviously not believing me. Thankfully, he didn't say anything. Instead, he just shrugged. As if he forgot all about his brother, his expression changed. His eyes glinting with excitement.

"Can we bake cookies?"

"Sure," I laughed. "Didn't know you were such a fan of my baking."

He clapped his hands together. "Your baking is amazing! Not sure if it tops Ibrahim's cooking skills though," he pondered as he tapped his chin.

I raised a brow at him, "Ibrahim can cook?"

"Obviously. He has been taking care for me for years. It'd be a real shame if he didn't know how to cook. Especially since I'm a huge food addict. Grandma and Grandpa always tease me about it, while Ibrahim is just shocked that I'm not a chubby little kid. Personally, I think Ibrahim should lay off the weights-" he rambled before I cut him off. This kid talked really fast.

"I thought you guys would have had a maid or something considering the size of your house," I gestured towards the huge space in my bedroom.

Bashir rolled his eyes at me. "Don't be ridiculous. Ibrahim and I do the housework." He then gave me a pointed stare. "Now shh, I'm telling a story here."

I smiled and let him continue.

* * * *

"Bashir! Tasneem!" a deep voice shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

Bashir's eyes widened. "Quick! Hide before he finds us!" he exclaimed as he ran to my closet.

Bashir and I had been sitting on my bed. He was telling me funny childhood stories about himself with Ibrahim or their grandparents. By the end of it I was clutching my stomach from how hard I was laughing. Through our hysterics, we had completely forgotten that Ibrahim was waiting for us to eat lunch with him.

I hid behind the curtains just as Ibrahim barged into the room. His footsteps heavy as he slowly walked in. I could feel his eyes scanning the room, before he sighed.

"Hmm, I wonder where they could be," he taunted as he walked closer to my hiding spot. "It would be a shame if I found them." His voice was closer. "A real shame," he whispered.

I could feel his breath through the red curtains. He knew I was behind the curtain. I felt childish for thinking otherwise. If he knew, why didn't he just pull the curtains? My heartbeat quickened as I felt his body pressed against mine. He gripped the curtain, not moving. I felt my body mold itself against his. The curtain was a barrier between us.

Images of this morning flashed into my mind. I desperately wanted him to hold me, to touch me. I wanted to feel his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of my neck again. Desire bloomed deep within me. I felt my legs tremble in anticipation for his next move.

Open the curtain, I mentally pleaded. Come on. This tension balled up inside me was getting painful. I held the reigns to my own self control. I had to calm down and fast.

He moved the curtain away, torturously slow. His dark brown eyes kept me pinned to the wall. They were enchanting me into a mindless state. They were alluring me. My lips parted as his face leaned towards me.

His soft lips brushed against my neck, lingering there. I gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to me. He smirked against my skin, a hand drifting to my hip. His lips trailed to my ear, his soft breath hovering over them.

"Found you," he whispered. His hands trailed up my waist, skimming my breasts.

What the hell am I doing? I mentally face palmed. There was a child under the age of thirteen present in the room and I was pressed against a wall by my husband, enjoying the new pleasurable sensations he was giving me.

My hands fell to his firm chest, the muscles tensed underneath my fingertips. I wanted to explore the planes of his hard chest, but I stopped myself. Push him away, I told myself. Come on, Tasneem. His lips left wet kisses down to my neck, lightly nipping at the skin. I slapped a hand over my mouth to stop my gasp. How did he have this effect on me?

"Ibrahim, either you're terrible at hide and seek or you're occupied with your wife," a childish voice resonated.

Bashir, my eyes widened. He was still hiding and I was stuck against Ibrahim.

As if a cold bucket of water fell over me, I pushed Ibrahim away. My action startled him a little bit and he stumbled as he fell backwards before quickly regaining his posture. I pointed at the closet and he nodded at me.

He closed his eyes for a second before opening them. With one last longing look at me, he walked towards the closest with a grin on his face before tickling the poor child inside.

"I surrender! I'm sorry!" laughed Bashir as he tried kicking his brother.

Ibrahim scoffed and stopped his assault, "And you said I sucked at hide and seek."

Bashir gave him a toothy grin. "I mean you did take some time finding me," he said as he gave us a knowing glance.

I blushed. He wasn't wrong. Ibrahim and I were a little preoccupied in each other to even remember Bashir was in the same room as us. I shyly glanced at Ibrahim, his expression was content as he gazed at the young boy on his arm. He ruffled Bashir's hair.

"Come on, kiddo. Your sandwich has been waiting an awfully long time to get eaten," joked Ibrahim.

Bashir's light brown eyes lit up and he immediately bolted out the room. Ibrahim chuckled at his little brother's excitement. I awkwardly rubbed my arm, keeping a safe distance away from him. A silence fell upon us. Ibrahim noticed and scratched the back of his neck.

"Hey," he said softly. "I'm sorry that I snapped at you earlier."

I was surprised by his apology, but kept my mouth shut as he continued.

"It was wrong of me," he sighed.

I smiled at him, "Don't worry about it."

"So..." he trailed off. "Lunch?"