"You have to buy that dress," Hudaa squealed, her eyes widened filled with some much excitement.

"That's what you said at every store we went into. Can we go and eat now, my arms are tired..." I say, my shoulders fall into resignation.

"Oh stop whining. We are yet to shop for shoes and accessories," she said, picking up the other clothes from the stool.

"Uh what about baby clothes? You said you wanted to buy baby stuff."

"I have six more months to shop for my unborn baby. You should be ashamed, that a pregnant woman who's swelling up every minute that passes is more active than you are," she said.

"Well that's because you have always been more active than me and an athlete in shopping."

"Yeah-yeah. Try this on," she said handing me yet another outfit. Exhausted? That's an understatement to describe how I am feeling. Well I brought this torment upon myself, I am the one who told her about the credit card and what Ahmed said. She was so excited about it. I got in the changing closet and tried on the skirt and top she gave me. "Maybe when you got to Dubai you can buy an abaya from there."

"Yeah sure," I replied, closing the skirt's zip. I get out of the changing room and Hudaa starts to examine my outfit.

"It's perfect," she says. "All thats left is the right pair of shoes."

After going to almost every shop in the mall, having over ten shopping bags. Buying shoes, scarfs (I actually enjoyed shopping for scarfs) and accessories. Finally we went to have lunch, though it was late lunch at three o'clock. "What's wrong Layla?" Hudaa asked me, and stopped eating her salad.

"I feel guilty for using the credit card Ahmed gave me. It just doesn't feel right. How will I repay him?..." Hudaa interjected.

"First of all you should not feel bad about anything, he gave you this card, and it has your name on it — Layla Muadh. You don't need to feel guilty, and to be frank with you can never repay Ahmed Damari, unless you are a multi-millionaire."

"Yeah I know," I said. In honesty he did want to me to look like Mrs Ahmed Damari, what better way to do that then re-create my style.

"I can't still believe I won't be there to see you in your wedding dress. I know you will look very beautiful and do not forget to send me pictures."

"I can't believe my best-friend, the closest thing I have to family won't be there, in my so called wedding. Giving me prep talks and don't worry I won't forget to send you hundreds of pictures," I said and continued eating my food. After lunch, I went back to the mansion. I took a lyft back, the lyft driver had to help me remove all the shopping bags from the car. It took time when I finally got all the bags inside the mansion.

"I see you've been busy." As I close the door, I think of a reply. What's Ahmed doing home early? He usually comes back by 7:00 pm.

"Um yes I have," I reply, casually. I turned around and saw him wearing jeans and a shirt, not in his usual suit. It's rare to see him without it.

"I left my office early and spent time with my mother. She's asleep now," he said, crossing his arms across his chest.

"How is she?" I ask.

"She's well," he replied. "Imad went out with Alice to a fun park."

"Why didn't she tell me? I should have gone with him too," I say, and start looking for my phone in my shoulder-bag.

"Layla..." I look up, Ahmed walks towards me. "He's going to be fine, I told them to go."

"You could have informed me," I say and start carrying the shopping bags.

"I will next time. Let me help you." I look at him, and for a moment I get lost into his stare. It's uncharacteristic of him to be saying this, everything about him today is just non-typical. I gave him the bags I was carrying, he started walking. I carried the remaining bags. Ahmed headed for his room. Oh this is awkward, I suppose it only makes sense since all most of stuff are in his room. He kept the shopping bags on the sofa and went to lay down on his bed, his head resting on the head board. He took out a book from the draw on from the bed post, and he started reading.

"Are you going to stand there all day staring at me?" He spoke, while reading the book. I couldn't help but smile.

"No... I am not staring," I reply.

"You're awfully quiet. I mean not that I am complaining, finally some silence."

Ahmeds eyes still fixed on the book. "Are you trying ask me if I am okay? Or are you just trying to small talk — because if that's the case you aren't very good at that," I tell him. He then keeps his novel on the bed post and gets out of bed.

"You can't help it can you?" Ahmed spoke in a low tone, while walking towards me.

"What do you mean?" I look at him confused. He stands in front of me, smirking. My heartbeat escalates, I am not used to this, him being so friendly and kind. It's just so confusing. I am used to Mr Ahmed, my boss I despised because he was rude. It was easy to not like him because he gave me reasons to. Him acting this way towards me makes it hard to think... I don't know how to feel. It's like a weight is kept on my heart, when it falters every-time Ahmed looks at me or holds my hand. I feel like a liar, because this marriage is lie and the worst thing is that I have been lying to myself that I can do this.

Every little girl dreams of their wedding day, planing what dress they would wear or imaging their prince. It is supposed to be this amazing day you get to officially began the rest of forever with someone you love and care about. My wedding day was supposed to be one of the most memorable day of my life, a story I'll get to tell my kids when they are older. A day I could re-live every time I look at my husband. I sacrificed that... All my mum ever wanted was to see me happy, to see me choose myself first for once. But I really don't know how to do that.

I stared at her, actually we stared at each other for a while. Letting silence be our talk. Then she dropped her gaze, mumbling something I wasn't able to hear properly. She looked back at me and, a gentle flush of pink had shown on her cheeks that made her look more vulnerable than usual. Tears escapes from her eyes, slowly trickling down her cheeks. I don't know why she's crying, but I don't want her too... I wiped her cheek with my thumb.

"I can't do this," she quietly spoke, and left the room.

I stood there and thought what I had done. Nothing but the thought of caring for her came to mind... Before she left I got a glimpse of her eyes — a mixture of hickory and tears.

I know what love is and I know how it feels to be in love. What I don't know is what being loved feels like, just loved for who I am. Real love. And to be loved by someone and to know they are scared to lose me, just like I am to lose them. I am resistless, I can't always defend myself around her. And that scares me more than anything. But people like her, nice, genuine, honest people, don't fall in love with people like me.

❤️