Hearts in hiding.
Ridwan was almost at his wits' end.
What was he supposed to do?
Yes, he had been avoiding her. Deliberately.
Just looking at Faridat had become a problem for him. Every glance, every smile she unknowingly sent his way, every innocent conversation left him battling emotions he had no business feeling. That was the reason he kept running.
Coward.
Maybe he was.
How was he supposed to explain to his best friend that he was interested in his sister?
How was he supposed to tell Basit that somewhere along the line, the little girl he used to tease had grown into a woman who occupied his thoughts far more than she should?
He couldn't.
The feelings had started subtly, almost harmlessly after that day. After the Interrogative night.
A smile here. A conversation there got him jittery like a teenage boy.
He realized he looked forward to seeing her.
Which is more like getting addicted.
So he buried those feelings.
Locked them away.
But no matter how tightly he sealed them, they always crawled back out whenever he was alone.
Especially at night.
The only thing that helped was spending time with Basit. Being around his friend occupied his mind enough to keep those thoughts at bay. And keeping himself busy with medical books and the jargons.
At least until darkness fell.
And now...
Now she was standing right in front of him.
In flesh.
In all her beauty.
Looking at him with those expressive eyes that had become the source of his unrest.
It was driving him insane.
"Faridat, what do you want?" he suddenly snapped.
His voice came out harsher than intended.
Faridat visibly flinched.
Shock washed over her face.
For a moment, she simply stood there, frozen.
Ridwan immediately regretted it.
He rubbed a hand over his face.
If only she knew.
If only she had the slightest idea what was going on inside his head.
If she knew about the countless nights he spent arguing with himself.
If she knew about the feelings he fought every day.
If she knew...
She probably wouldn't be standing this close to him.
"Sorry," he muttered stiffly.
His voice lacked its usual warmth.
"Please tell Basit I'm gone. I have somewhere to be."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and left.
The door closed behind him.
The sound snapped Faridat out of her daze.
Her feet suddenly felt heavy.
As though invisible chains had wrapped around her ankles.
A lump formed in her throat.
What did I do?
Why did he shout at me?
What exactly did I do wrong?
The questions came one after another.
Yet no answers followed.
Faridat blinked rapidly, forcing back the tears threatening to spill.
The last thing she wanted was for her brother to see her like this.
Taking a shaky breath, she dragged herself upstairs.
Unknown to both of them, Basit had heard everything.
The raised voice had caught his attention immediately.
Standing halfway down the staircase, he had listened to the brief exchange.
His brows furrowed deeply.
He watched Ridwan walk toward the door and disappear outside.
A sigh escaped him.
Moments later, he saw Faridat emerge from the hallway.
The sadness on her face was impossible to miss.
For a second, Basit considered stepping forward.
But stopped himself.
Should I interfere?
Or should I let them handle it?
He remained hidden until Faridat disappeared upstairs.
Only then did he come down fully.
A thoughtful expression settled on his face.
Ridwan wasn't stupid right?!
Far from it.
And Basit wasn't blind either.
His sister liked Ridwan.
That much was obvious.
The way she brightened whenever his name was mentioned.
The way her eyes unconsciously searched for him during gatherings.
The way disappointment always followed whenever Ridwan wasn't around.
Basit had noticed.
Just as he had noticed Ridwan's increasingly strange behavior.
The avoidance.
The tension.
The unnecessary distance.
No.
Ridwan wasn't oblivious.
Something was clearly going on.
And honestly?
Basit wasn't against it.
If there was any man he could trust with his sister's happiness, Ridwan ranked high on that list.
The man was loyal.
Responsible.
Protective.
Everything a brother would want for his sister.
But this wasn't his battle to fight.
Not yet.
"They're adults," he muttered to himself.
"They'll figure it out."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"And if they don't, then I'll step in."
With that decision made, he pushed the matter to the back of his mind.
For now.
Ridwan, however, was far from finding peace.
After leaving the Collins residence, he drove aimlessly through the city.
One hour became two.
Two became three.
The roads blurred together.
Traffic lights.
Buildings.
People.
He barely noticed any of it.
His thoughts remained fixed on one person.
Faridat.
And the hurt expression on her face.
The image refused to leave him alone.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it.
The shock.
The confusion.
The sadness.
Damn it.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
She hadn't done anything wrong.
Not a single thing.
Yet he had taken his frustration out on her.
Like some immature teenager unable to control himself.
He hated it.
More importantly, he hated himself.
By the time he finally got home, exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders.
His usually composed demeanor was nowhere to be found.
Even the house staff noticed.
Ridwan barely responded to greetings.
Barely touched the dinner left for him.
He simply retreated to his room.
The silence there offered no comfort.
Instead, it amplified everything.
His guilt.
His frustration.
His longing.
He loosened his shirt buttons and sank into a chair.
Then remained there.
For a very long time.
Motionless.
The memory of her face replayed repeatedly.
Each time cutting deeper than before.
Sleep refused to come that night.
And when it finally did, it was restless.
Faridat wasn't doing much better.
At the Collins residence, her unusually gloomy mood hadn't gone unnoticed.
Mrs. Collins exchanged a look with her husband during dinner.
A silent conversation passing between them.
Their daughter was usually cheerful.
Lively.
Talkative.
Yet tonight she barely spoke.
She pushed food around her plate more than she ate it.
Mr. Collins cleared his throat.
"Everything alright, princess?"
Faridat forced a smile.
"Yes, Dad."
The answer came too quickly.
The skeptical look exchanged between husband and wife deepened.
Clearly, everything was not alright.
But before either parent could press further, Basit calmly stepped in.
"She's probably just tired."
The couple glanced at their son.
Basit met their gaze steadily.
A subtle message passed between them.
Leave it for now.
Mrs. Collins narrowed her eyes slightly.
Still unconvinced.
But she trusted her son.
If he wasn't worried, perhaps there was no immediate problem.
For now.
As dinner continued, Basit remained silent.
He knew more than he was letting on.
Not everything.
But enough.
However, he had no intention of exposing his sister's feelings before she was ready.
Faridat was no longer a child.
She deserved her privacy.
She deserved the chance to handle her own heart.
If she wanted to tell their parents, she would.
And if things became complicated?
Then he would step in.
Until then, he would watch.
Wait.
And quietly pray that the two stubborn people stopped making themselves miserable and finally speak honestly to eachother.
Because from where he stood, both Ridwan and Faridat looked equally unhappy.
And neither seemed brave enough to admit why.
@OlukoyaZainab