Chapter 19-

"Ugh! Does every drawer in this room contain cigarettes?" I ask as I throw out the packs of cigarettes from his bedside drawer.

"Expect for the drawer beside you, yeah." I roll my eyes at his reply and move on to the next drawer. Opening it, I find a bottle of vodka. I raise an eyebrow at him and he looks away. "How did that get here?" He pretends to be shocked. "Omar I'm really serious, if you want to be a better Muslim, you've to stop these things. I pity your next wife when I'm gone."

"And I can't wait for you to. At least the house would be lighter and Jenny would be back."

"Why don't just marry her if you want her that badly?"

He laughs and says, "It's just like telling me to marry a whore! I don't do marriage. She gets money, I get her body. Win-win."

"You're disgusting!" I push him lightly on the chest.

"No I'm not, would you marry a whore?"

"Already have a manwhore at home, only that he doesn't do it for money." I refer to him with a smirk.

"It's an exercise, don't you know it? It's called sexercise."

My eyes widen. "You're impossible!"

He leans closer and says cockily. "I think the word you're looking for is irresistible."

"Naked Patrick is more sexy than you will ever be. But you two have something in common, lack brains."

"At least I don't buy dresses after two weeks because I gain 20pounds a day." He huffs.

"I don't! I bought dresses because for some odd reason, our families decided to pack nightgowns and short dresses like I was starting some prostitute university!" I defend myself.

Honestly speaking, all they packed was lingeries, shorts, undergarments, short gowns and nightgowns. Come on people! Is this Slut Camp?

"When do we pack for our honeymoon?" I ask.

"You really want to go?"

"Nope, just don't want to look like a bad daughter in-law."

"We will talk about that later, right now I'm starving. Let's go to McDonalds."

We both take showers but of course in different bathrooms and get ready. Due to the intense heat caused by summer, it's August so you can imagine the heat. I wear a free, light textured mustard yellow gown with dark blue turban and flats. Omar dresses in a casual white tee and beach shorts.

I insist on him driving because the driver isn't feeling good. The obstacle to getting to McDonalds is the paparazzi. Omar wasn't disturbed as they asked questions and took photos. I on the other hand was finding it hard to ignore the questions, so I ended up answering most of them. When one of them asked me what I had to say concerning the rumour about me dumping his brother so I can marry Omar because I thought Omar was richer. I replied, "Yousuf is my friend and I married Omar because I love him not for his money."

"What are you thinking of?" He asks.

"What? Oh nothing." I answer and munch on my McChicken.

"You know I don't really care about you and your feelings right?"

I grunt in respond and he shrugs his shoulders. "Why do you think Yousuf left?"

"Can we not talk about it because no matter how many times I think if it, I can't seem to come up with a reasonable idea. I think it's because the Malik Family are bound to break hearts."

"Are you talking about highschool? Come on that was seven years ago! And trust me, I didn't do it on purpose, it just seemed to happen."

"You swallowing her face just seemed to happen? You cheated on me, on us for Godsake! And you call that not purposely?" I raise my voice, it really did hurt bad.

"Stop making a scene, we aren't at home, you could ruin everything." He whispers but this only worsened the situation.

"To hell with the scene, have you ever thought of how I felt and what I went through? It was hell but I don't expect you to understand, I wish I never met you." With that, I pick my purse and leave. Trying my best to blink away the tears that wanted to burst free. "Oh Allah! Help me."

I take a cab home and get it the shower. It's being seven years but the pain never faded, it ached more every time I thought of it. Somehow, the shower helps me relax. I carefully wash my face and scrub my body gently. I performed ablution and wrap a towel round my chest and walk out.

There he is, on his kneels. He looks up and stares into my brown eyes. "I know I never apologized for what I did, I didn't because I knew what I did hurt you. I was a jerk, I admit it. So proud and arrogant that I didn't notice that I ended up hurting you. I want you to believe me when I say I'm sorry for everything." Never in my life had Omar said those words to me, to anyone in fact. In those words, I saw the sincerity and the guilt in him. He really is sorry and that's all I wished for. For seven years, I wanted to hear those three words, I AM SORRY and I did. I smile at him and jokingly say, "Didn't I tell you to never apologize for being a jerk? Cos it's in your blood."

"The only thing in my blood is the power to attract the ladies and I can see you're attracted too. Don't worry, I can give you the license to confess it and feel this." He gestures at his abs.

"You're just an Alex Prange wannabe. You don't have to be him, just be yourself and I'm sure all the grandmas will swing themselves on you." I wink and tell him to leave so I can get dressed. Guess what happened? He might had done those stupid moves he did when we first got married using the excuse that 'You're my wife now.' And I may have or may have not slapped him because my lighter was in the drawer.

"You slap hard princess. Anyway, it's time for Sallah." He says and spreads the prayer mat before telling me to fall in place.

"Who are you and what have you done with Omar?" I joke.

"I'm just rolling the dice as you said but don't be scared, I'm still your hot husband."

"You keep talking but all I hear is 'I'm an idiot and I know it."

"Don't insult yourself wifey, it's not your fault you weren't blessed with the gift of expressing your feelings. You don't need to pretend that you don't want to touch this." He points at his stomach. "A whole bunch of ladies want this."

"Can you just start praying? I don't want to hear about your ladies life and your connections with pimps."

"I can tag you in if you want, don't worry, you'll be in line one."

"Eww! Just pray."

"Whatever you say hippo."

After Maghrib, I check to see if I've missed calls. I see a missed call from Aliya, I lay on the bed as I wait for her to pick my call. We greet each other and she informs me that she has a blind date tomorrow. I congratulate her and promised to meet her at the restaurant before the date.

• • • •

"Hello!" I hug Aliya who hugs me back and gives me a stressed smile. "Wait! Did you sleep last night?" I enquire after seeing the dark circles below her eyes.

"I couldn't, I was too excited that I couldn't sleep, so I buried myself in mugs of coffee." She grins sheeply. "You know this is my first date."

Yep! It is. Aliya never gave a guy any chance because she never really saw the use of dating. According to her, 90% of teenage couples end up breaking up. She wasn't ready to get her heart broken. I on the other hand, believed that Omar and I might make it because I was head over heels in love with him. But turns out I'm not one of the 10%.

"So what time will he come?" I ask and take the cup of coffee away from her. "That's enough."

She gives me her best puppy eyes but decides to stop when she noticed that I wasn't falling for it. "By 4, we have 15 minutes to kill, so tell me what made you fall for Omar after saying that you won't?"

"Well, I never expected to but you know what they say, love...love...gives second chances."

"By?" She asks. I can really see that she isn't buying it.

"Hey! Is that a new perfume. Smells nice, what's it called?"

"Really? I bought it yesterday. What's the name again? I remember. It's called Trying To Change The Subject. I bought at a place called, I Can Tell When You're Lying."

Dang it! She caught me.

"Aisha, I've known you throughout my life, I know that when you lie, you lick your lower lip. I know that it's just an act, so you can cut the crap."

What the hell am I gonna say now? I bite the inner of my mouth and wipe my sweaty hands with a tissue.

Her phone rings and she answers. She gives me a quick glare and murmur, "Don't think this is over." I mentally thank God for the intervention.

"He's here!" She grins like a nine year old with her eyes looking round for him. I follow her eyes in search of the mystery guy and my eyes fall on him. She gives me the shocking look I have written on my face.

"Isn't that Omar?"

"He's...he sure is the one."