"Alice will be looking after you," I told Imad.

"Are you going to leave me again?" He asked, the excitement on his face slowly fading.

"No no I am not going anywhere. Imad you know how much I love you..." I hugged him. How do you explain to a six year old that another nanny has to take care of him, because you can't be his official nanny because I am now his aunt. It's a complicated story, and that is why Mr Ahmed and I haven't told him yet that we are married. We were planning on telling him together. I honestly have no idea how he is going to react.

"The teacher said we are closing school for three months. For summer holiday," Imad says enthusiastically.

"That's amazing. So have you wrote down the things you want to do? Places you want to go? Some place like a theme park," I said.

"Will you help me write down the list?" He asked.

"Of-course I will."

"Alice!" Imad says and runs to her. I turn around to see a girl, wearing jeans and a crop top. Her brown hair tied in a messy bun. I walk over to them introduce myself.

"Layla." I look at her blankly, somehow still bothered by the thought that she is partly the reason Imad got sick.

"Alice Carson," she says, and nervously smiles. "Mr Ahmed briefed me over the phone yesterday. I know you are married to him, and now you don't have to work anymore. You can count on me." I bit my lower lip anxiously and looked at Imad. Praying that he didn't hear what she said.

"Uncle Ahmed married Layla?" He asked, his eyes filled with joy and eagerness. I glanced at Alice who looked a bit uncomfortable,

"Uh how about we talk about this later when your uncle comes back home," I told him.

"Yay! Layla is going to live with me forever," he yelled running out of the kitchen. I couldn't help but laugh.

"I am sorry, I should not have said anything. I honestly thought that Imad knew," she spoke in a sincere tone.

"It's fine. Tell me more about yourself," I said, walking over to the round table. I sat down and gestured for her to sit on the chair. She sat down and began to speak.

"Well I am nineteen years old, born and raised in Boston. I moved here about a two years ago with my boyfriend, we got accepted in the same college. I dropped out of college to peruse my acting career, and my boyfriend broke up with me the same day. Full disclosure... I only became a nanny because of the cash. But I do have experience taking care of children, I took care of my little brother since he was born. Grew up with a single parent, my dad left us when my brother was born. My mum had to start working but she insisted that I go to school. She wanted me to have a normal childhood even with our living circumstances," she spoke in a low tone. I could tell it was difficult for her to tell her story. She paused after every three sentences.

"Piece of advice, don't give up on your dreams the path to success is not an easy road nor a short one. But if you believe in your self that's all you will ever need," I said to her. "Let's get something clear, when it comes to Imad's happiness and health it is very important and crucial to me and to his uncle. You will get to know him and see what a wonderful boy he is, his well being should be your number one priority. If anything feels off, even if it's the tiniest detail that doesn't feel right, you tell me. Do we have an understanding?" I spoke in a sombre manner.

"Yes we do," she replied.

"Okay great. I will text you his schedule, I'll need your number. If you can not make it on time or you can not come in at all, notify me in advance," I said.

"Thank you so much for hiring me back. I won't disappoint you." I smiled at her, and she smiled back.

•••

I got ready, when I mean I got ready I just wore a simple dress. I do not own anything fancy. Hudaa wouldn't have dared to let me go out like this. I do miss her, we are meeting up this weekend though. I heard a soft knock at the door, I opened it and it was Ahmed dressed in his usual suit.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

"Yes I am. Let me get my purse," I said, running to the bed and taking my clutch bag. Before I followed him downstairs I went to check on Imad, hopefully he was already in bed asleep. I opened the door to his room carefully and see Alice sitting on the edge of his bed reading to him his favorite book.

"Good night," I whisper, still standing by the door.

"Night, he's already asleep. Have fun," she whispers back and grins. I close the door and quickly go down the stairs, I go outside and see Ahmed already in his car. Busy on his phone. I walk to to the car and open the back door of the Range Rover.

"What do you think you are doing?" He asked. I looked at him, confused. "How would it look if we arrived at the restaurant, and my so called wife getting out of the back seat of my car when I am the one who is driving." I closed the back door. I breathed in and opened the door to the front seat, I got in and fastened my seat belt. The mood in the car was pensive, fidgeting with my fingers kept me calm.

My phone started ringing. I took it out of my clutch bag and looked at the screen. It's... Adil. My heart pounded, my hands started to feel clammy holding my phone. I didn't know what to do. "Aren't you going to answer that?" Ahmed asked, bursting my thought bubble.

"Uh n-no," I falter.

"Who is it anyway?" He shares a quick glance at me and looks back at the road. Since when does he care...

"No one," I put back my phone in my clutch bag. "Imad found out today that we are married. He's been asking me the whole day if it's true. I told him we would talk to him about it together," I spoke, trying to change the subject.

"We will talk to him tomorrow." And that was the last thing he said until we got to the restaurant. I looked out side the window, still thinking about the phone call. Scolding myself, why didn't I just pick up the call. Would I even be able to say something, or listen to him speak without breaking down. I have not even told him that I am married to Ahmed — his cousin. I wonder what he will think of me once I tell him. The worst part is that he will never know the truth, until I get a divorce from Ahmed. We agreed no one should know the truth behind our marriage.

The car stopped, but my mind didn't stop making scenes on how I would tell Adil. That is if I ever got the courage to face him. I got out of the car, and stood by the car waiting for Ahmed. Crying was no option, and nor was looking like a grieving widow.

We walked side by side, our hands occasionally brushing against each other, we aren't actually holding hands. I could feel my heart in my throat, and a warm and weird feeling in my stomach. Before we entered the restaurant, he clasps my hand fully, interlacing our fingers. His hand grasping my entire hand. The weird feeling in my stomach got intense, leaving me with literally no words and a racing heart beat. I closed my eyes for a split second trying to reassure my self, that everything will be okay.

We entered the restaurant and a waiter showed us to our table — a table for two. That has a great view of the ocean. I take my sit and look at the view and indulge myself in the beautiful scenery. I felt a warmth on my hand, I turn to see Mr Ahmed resting his hand on mine.

"My love what drink will you have?" My love? It was unclear to me that the waiter was still standing there, I look besides me and notice his presence.

"Just water," I reply, barely getting the words out. His hand still rested on mine.

"Sparkling?" The waiter asked.

"No just regular water," I say.

"I'll have the sparkling water," Ahmed says. I look back the scenery the dark calm waters, twinkling stars and light clouds. Ahmed began going through the menu, I wasn't hungry nor in the mood to eat. When he was ordering for his food, I didn't order for anything. I took sips of water from my glass, until it was over in less then two minutes. "We will go to Dubai once Imad's school closes for their summer holiday," he said, finally ending the game of silence.

"I really don't want a grand wedding," I confess.

"You are not planning anything. You are just to show up as my bride," he said.

"In a white gown, in-front of all your relatives..."

"Not necessarily white, you can pick whatever dress you like... That reminds me." He unbuttoned his suit-jacket and took out what looked like a credit card, from his inner pocket. "This is for you," he said, handing me over the card. "You can shop before we leave for Dubai. Get whatever you need to make yourself look like Mrs Ahmed Damari." I looked at it and I couldn't get my self to take it. My hands are all sweaty and shaky. So he kept it besides my plate, on the table.

"It's not necessary," I said, unable to look at him in the eyes.

"We have met half away. As you said all there is left is communication and trust. This me trusting you, well it's a first step nearing to."

"Thank you," I said. "But..."

"Layla save your modesty for other people, you are my wife. You are my wife in the eyes of everyone else, only the two of us and your friend knows the truth. I suggest you take it, if you don't my relatives will question me on why I do not spoil my wife," he spoke in a modulating tone. I took the credit card and kept it in my clutch bag.

"You have proven that I could trust you the day you signed the marriage contract. Sham or not, marriage isn't simple either way. As for communication I know you are not much for conversations," I spoke.

"Just because I don't like to speak to you does not mean that I do not like having conversations," He defended himself.

"Hah," I chortled. "Could have fooled me."

"I am business man..."

"Business men don't have normal conversations?" I interject.

"It's more of negotiations and business deals. But I can try. How hard can it be?"

"You couldn't even keep a normal conversation alive for five minutes," I say.

"Is that a challenge?"

"More like a fact. But I'd like to see you prove me wrong," I spoke dauntlessly.

"I have never worn a thobe (Muslim attire for men)," he said unexpectedly.

"Hahah," I laugh. "No way."

"Always thought if I wear it would make me look too arab... If my friends in high-school ever saw me in a thobe, my whole reputation would have died in a nano-second."

"And what's so wrong with being proud of your religion and nationality? I wore my hijab regardless of people's opinions," I revealed unknowingly. I shy away and remain silent for a while.

"I went to school with ignorant Americans. They pronounced my name in the weirdest way, proving even a simple name like Ahmed could sound fancy." After a while of talking, the food came. Well Ahmed's food came.

"I don't mind sharing," he said. I smile.

"It's a dare Ahmed. You have to do it, being all nice to me won't change my mind." I challenged him to wear a thobe to work one day.

"I will do it..."

"Of course you would a business man does not like to lose."

"True, but I will only do it if..." he said while cutting the stake and picking it up with his fork. "If you eat." I took the fork from his hand and ate.

"There... Now you have to complete your dare." I spoke, still chewing and covering my mouth. To be honest it was actually good, the stake.

I liked talking to him, in away he was being nice and friendly. I liked this Ahmed. This Ahmed is funny, honest, somehow easier to talk too. Though I was confused whether it was all an act or it was truly him.