POV: {Faruq}
The call for 'Isha had just ended when I stepped out onto the back patio of the mansion, a secluded stretch where the tiled floors caught the glow of warm garden lights. The evening air in Abuja carried the faint scent of earth after an earlier drizzle, and crickets hummed softly, like a chorus echoing the heaviness in his chest.
I wasn't out there for the view. Not really.
I caught her glance again.
Zaynab.
I had told myself to look away more than once. I told myself it didn't mean anything. She was just my sister's guest. A girl on holiday. A girl with too much in her eyes and too much she was trying to hide.
But there was something about the way she sat earlier, beside Asiya, that stuck with me. The forced calm, the quiet nods, the effort to smile. It wasn't the kind of smile that made you look twice because it was pretty. It was the kind that made you pause because you knew it was pretending to be okay.
And that..
That was dangerous.
"Faruq?"
I turned without flinching. Mariam, in her modest navy blue abaya, stepped closer, arms folded across her chest. Her gaze was as sharp as always.
"You've been staring too much."
Straight. No sugar.
"I wasn't," I replied, calmly.
"You were. And not just today. Since the morning Zaynab came, I've been watching. You don't even realize how often you watch her."
"I watch everyone," I said smoothly. "It's a habit."
Mariam lifted a brow. "Except you're not everyone. You're Faruq bin Hassan. And that…" she gestured toward the direction of the garden, where Zaynab had gone with Asiya to water the little basil patch…"that's not just watching. That's interesting."
I didn't respond. I didn't need to. The silence did it for me.
Mariam sighed. "Asiya likes you. Always has. And you know it."
"I never asked her to," I said quietly.
"But you never pushed her away either."
I looked out toward the rows of tulsi leaves swaying under the light wind. The truth was, I respected Asiya. Genuinely. She was kind, loyal, and deserved better than a half-hearted future. But I couldn't manufacture feelings just because others expected it.
"I won't wrong her by pretending," I said at last. "You know I won't."
Mariam tilted her head slightly. "But you'd consider Zaynab?"
I didn't answer.
Instead, my mind wandered back to the first time I saw her…barely hours after she arrived. She had walked in with her suitcase, modestly dressed, no makeup, no fanfare. But there was fire behind those quiet eyes. Not defiance…depth. A girl who had learned to survive her silence, and still chose grace.
That kind of woman unsettled men like me.
But I wasn't just unsettled.
I was… interested.
"Zaynab doesn't even like me," I said after a moment, almost to myself.
"She doesn't dislike you," Mariam countered. "She's careful. There's a difference. Besides, I don't even think she knows you exist like that… She is different."
Careful.
That word clung to me.
Zaynab was careful around me. Around everyone. She measured her speech, guarded her presence, even the way she talked, never leaning too far, never overstepping, always subtly observing before speaking.
It made me curious. Not in the shallow, fleeting way. But in the deep, maddening way where I found myself wanting to hear her opinions. To see what her laughter looked like when she wasn't weighed down. To know what made her eyes shadow over sometimes, right in the middle of a crowd.
"Anyway," Mariam said, softening, "just remember what house you're walking into. Your father's shadow reaches deep, and people talk. You don't need any more fire in this mansion."
I didn't argue. She was right.
There were expectations. Political alliances. Conversations whispered in corners. I had been raised in it. Groomed for it.
But there were some things I couldn't just inherit. Like clarity. Like conviction.
Like choosing a woman not because she was suitable…
But because she stirred something real.
The garden gate creaked.
Asiya and Zaynab were walking back toward the main building, their soft chatter carrying in the breeze.
I didn't stare.
But I didn't look away either.
And in that brief moment, as Zaynab's eyes accidentally met mine across the garden path; just for a heartbeat, I saw it again.
That fire.
That restraint.
That quiet war.
And I knew.
This wasn't going to be simple.
Not for me.
Not for her.
Not under this roof.
The Offer, The Eyes, and the Unspoken Drift
POV: {Faruq}
It was almost noon but the house was unusually quiet. Only the occasional sound of laughter from the girls' room filtered through the hallway. I should've been relieved, I mean peace was rare with Mariam and her friends around, but instead, my pulse hadn't stopped its annoying thump since I got back.
My thoughts tethered to the sharp aroma of attar and the fading memory of a restless night.
I hadn't slept well.
Something about Zaynab …
Even thinking her name sounded like a dare. A contradiction. She was everything that shouldn't disturb a man like me.. too quiet, too reserved, too observant, and yet, that first look she gave me still sat at the edge of my memory like a lit match daring me to breathe.
…had carved itself into the corners of his thoughts. She wasn't loud or flirtatious. In fact, it was the quiet composure she wore like armor that made her so difficult to ignore.
I knew girls. Loud ones, shy ones, fake-humble ones. I'd learned to filter the noise. But Zaynab was different. Her silence wasn't empty. It had weight. It carried the scent of restraint and a kind of hidden steel that didn't need to announce itself.
And I wasn't sure why I was noticing all that.
Maybe it was because the moment I entered the house earlier and saw her seated beside Mariam in the living room, head lowered modestly as she stirred her tea with delicate precision…I forgot why I had come home early in the first place.
She had greeted me with such calm; no giggles, no fluttering lashes, no half-baked flattery.
I passed the living room, where the soft hum of laughter pulled my gaze toward the hallway. I could hear my sister's voice. And Asiya's too.
"Zaynab, come on," Mariam urged, playfully, "You've barely been here two days. We're not letting you go yet!"
I paused, unseen. A long beat passed.
"I was supposed to return today," Zaynab said gently, her voice low but firm.
"You're not going anywhere." Asiya's voice now, light and laced with something I couldn't name. "We already planned the rest of the week, haven't we? The art exhibit, the halwa competition at the masjid… You promised to show us that bread recipe."
My brows pulled slightly together.
I stepped forward. Calmly.
They turned toward me as I entered. Mariam's eyes widened slightly…caught, as if she'd been discussing something she hadn't yet prepared me for.
I greeted them. "Asalamu alaikum."
"Wa alaikum salam," they chorused, almost too quickly.
"Leaving already?" I asked Zaynab, keeping my tone even.
She looked up at me, then dropped her gaze. "I was meant to. But they…" she gestured vaguely toward the girls, "...they're making a case."
"Hmm." I allowed a small smile. "They do that."
Zaynab smiled back … just a flicker. "I don't want to overstay."
"You haven't." My voice surprised even myself.
Mariam looked at me.
So did Asiya.
Silence settled for a moment too long.
"Then... maybe a few more days," Zaynab said quietly. "I mean, if that's fine."
I nodded, my face unreadable. "It is."
But as I turned away, I could feel Mariam's gaze burning into my back.
She would ask later. She always did.
And I have no answer that makes sense. Not even to myself.
---
Later that day, Mariam found me in the small study near the garden, where I usually kept his quiet.
She leaned against the doorframe, arms folded.
"You're okay with her staying?" she asked.
I didn't look up from the journal I was flipping through. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Mariam pressed her lips together. "Asiya likes you, Faruq."
I stopped. She already told me that before
The silence stretched again.
"I know," I said at last. "I always have."
"And she begged me," Mariam said softly. "She asked me to help. She's been patient for years."
I closed the book and looked up.
"And you want me to marry someone because she's waited?"
"No. I want you to be honest…with yourself. And with them."
A long sigh escaped me. "Then don't pull Zaynab into this. Don't make her stay longer if it's going to make things harder for her."
Mariam shook her head. "She's not staying because of me. She's staying because she needs air, and peace... and maybe because someone finally sees her without her saying a word."
My eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to say?"
"I'm saying," Mariam said, walking away, "you should decide soon. But remember, Zaynab is not like the others. And if you mess this one up, Allah will judge you personally."
The door clicked shut behind her.
And I sat there, suddenly aware of just how loudly my heart was beating.
---
That evening, I opened the curtains of the guest room and saw Asiya standing in the garden below, holding a small box… and Mariam pacing beside her, cautiously glancing toward the house. What are they planning?