Anaya's chest heaved up and down, her face beet red as her insides quivered.

"What?" Anaya said, her voice husky and barely coming out.

"You asked me why you're still here, I'm telling you."

Anaya backed away from him and took hold of her forehead, trying to comprehend all that was going on.

"You just made this so much more confusing." She whispered.

"a-Ali. You can't just keep me here. This isn't my life. I have a career, I have a home, I-"

"But you're at risk now. I let you go the other night, not two minutes later the dogs were at your doorstep ready to take you." He said.

"That doesn't mean you can keep me here. I have no life here. I spend the entire day just wandering around!"

"I can get you a job,"

"No... I just want my old job, the old house, and my old life."

"You'll get hurt."

"I don't care...Ali. I just- You have to understand." She said, almost scared to upset him.

Ali didn't reply and stepped away from her.

"Leave." He said his face emotionless yet she could strongly feel his disappointment. He walked away to the bathroom and slammed the door close, letting Anaya stand there alone.

Anaya felt a pang of guilt hit her chest, and she hated the feeling. Even though, what she was doing was completely right. This shouldn't even be up for consideration, she is a hostage, and she needs to leave. Any feelings that she has towards him are wrong, mentally wrong.

She had to leave.

Anaya opened the door with her shaky hand and began to walk away. She could still feel his lips against hers, his hands holding her head. She couldn't believe what happened, what she let happen. She had never even shaken a man's hand, and she had just kissed this man.

Anaya quickly paced to her room and locked the door behind her and quickly pulled off her hijab because she was so hot from the panic. She didn't even think about this part when she left what was going to happen to this "marriage"?

"Oh, no.." She groaned and fell back into her bed.

But this wasn't her situation to worry about, he'd want a divorce anyways. What'd be the point of them staying married?

Anaya stared at the ceiling, as her thoughts ran everywhere. The clock ticked past two in the morning and she sat there thinking until eventually her eyes drooped and she fell asleep.

Ali stared at himself in the mirror, the mirror fogged from the steam of the long shower he had just taken. Ali stepped closer to the mirror and stared at himself, the water from his hair dripping down to the counter-top and down to his body.

Ali felt infuriated, and not at Anaya at himself. So mad, that his reflection was making him angry. He felt so pathetic, even if he was a little buzzed he still went out of his way to humiliate himself and make his feelings known.

A drunken man's words are a sober man's thoughts, Ali thought.

Ali looked down and clenched his eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. Yet, there was no peace for him, his body shook as he kept reliving the past fifteen minutes, and before he could even blink his fist met the mirror, cracking even the most solid piece of glass that was in his room. His fist bled immediately due to the impact, the glass shards stuck to his skin. He picked them out with his hands and ran his hand underwater.

He shut the water and put on his clothes. Leaving the bathroom he hurried down the stairs and to Martha's room, he knocked on the door, and not a couple seconds later he heard a response.

"Anaya is that you?" She said, as she walked to the door and opened it.

"Ali?"

"Tomorrow first thing in the morning, I want you to tell Anaya she and the other woman they can leave, and that they should be gone before I come back home." He spoke and walked away before Martha even had a chance to process his words.

Ali grabbed his car keys by the door and headed out. Getting into his car, he needed to forget Anaya, and he knew the easiest way to.

He parked right outside his favorite bar, and walked in reserving a private room. A woman began to follow him, but the sight of any other woman repulsed him, he shrugged her off, and went inside the room crashing on the couch. He poured himself a whiskey, and drowned himself in the numbess that alcohol provided.

-

Anaya woke up at around six n the morning to offer fajr, and as soon as she finished she fell back asleep only to be woken up by Martha two hours later.

"Hey, Anaya."

"Hmm."

"You can go."

"What?"

"Home."

Anaya's eyes shot open, and she looked at Martha to make sure she heard her correctly.

"Sir told me to tell you, that you and Jameela can go back home today."

"Oh my god, then I better hurry." Anaya got up, her face lighting up.

She quickly ran into the bathroom and washed her face, and brushed her teeth. She put on her Abaya and did her hijab, and then left the room to go to Jameela's.

As she came out, Jameela was already dressed standing in the foyer waiting for Anaya.

"Let's go." Anaya smiled.

As she saw the two of them get into the car, Martha picked up her phone and dialed Ali's number.

"Hello?" She said

"Yes?"

"Anaya just left, are you going to sending any guards along with her? at least for the first few weeks." She asked.

"No." He replied.

Ali knew it was wrong to not have her under supervision, but his ego was too big to let him care. So he ended the call, not giving Martha the chance to convince him otherwise.

Ali sat there surrounded by distractions and his conscious fazed from the alcohol, yet his mind was on a loop of Anaya's face and the sensation of her hands, the softness of her lips and her heavenly sweet voice.

But that was the one thing he needed to avoid the most. He shouldn't care for her.

- - - -