Beyond The Facade!

 

It was 11 at night, and he was late. I was in my bed, scrolling through reels, when I heard the main door unlock. I knew it was him. He entered the home, his footsteps quiet on the floor, and placed his keys in the bowl on the entrance table. As he entered my room, I pretended to be sleeping, my eyes closed, and my body still. 

He was dressed in a black suit, his black hair styled in a pompadour with an undercut, and a trimmed black beard that made him look like a mafia boss. He removed his coat and casually threw it on the couch, picked up his ledger from the side table on his side, and then sat on the bed across from me, his back resting against the headboard, and his eyes fixed on the ledger. 

I could sense his tension. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light on his face, highlighting the furrows on his brow. His fingers moved swiftly through the pages, his expression a mix of concentration and concern. The silence in the room was almost palpable, broken only by the occasional rustle of pages or the soft creak of the bed.

I remained still, pretending to be asleep, unsure of how to react. I was lying there, facing him, watching him over my left hand, as I rested my left hand over the pillow right beside my face, and my right hand held the corner of the blanket, just under my chin. I considered reaching out to him, but something held me back, perhaps because I was scared of him. He seemed like a stranger, someone I didn't know. I'd never seen him like this before.

He caught my gaze from the corner of his eye and turned to me, his expression softening. Sensing my uneasiness, he wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close. His lips brushed against my forehead in a gentle kiss, and then he enveloped me in a warm hug. My forehead rested against his neck, and I continued to pretend to be asleep. His voice was low and soothing as he whispered, "I love you, I'll always love you, no matter what. I've got nothing without you. Now sleep, like you've got nothing to worry about." His words were a balm to my soul, calming my fears and wrapping me in a sense of safety.

        I don't remember when I drifted off to sleep in his arms. But when I woke up in the morning, he wasn't there. I thought he must have left the house for his office. I got up, brushed my teeth, and washed my face. 

As I stepped out of the room, he was standing in the kitchen with his back to me, still dressed in his black button down shirt as a few buttons undone while his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing his forearm muscles, busy searching for something in the pantry. 

Meanwhile, some pasta was boiling in a pot on the stove. The aroma of boiling pasta and sizzling garlic wafted through the air. I wondered where the chef was and what he was doing in the kitchen! Yet I didn't say a word.

He sensed me there, turned to the stove, and said, "I'm making some pasta for you, your favorite!" 

In my thoughts, I was like, "For me? Why? Didn't he have office today?" 

He said, "I took a day off today." A question raised in my mind. "To spend some time with you," he said after a pause.

Still lost in thought, I stood there as he turned to me, his eyes locking onto mine. He grabbed my waist, and my heart skipped a beat as he lifted me onto the kitchen counter. 

With his hands resting on the counter beside me, he leaned in close and said, 'You're quiet. I didn't hear a word from you since last night. You've never been like this.' 

I looked down, trying to avoid his gaze, but he gently took both of my hands in his and asked, 'What happened? Did I do something to upset you? Say something!'

I looked up at him, his eyes filled with concern. "When you left the house yesterday after that call from work, you weren't in a good mood. The anger was palpable on your face. And when you came back, you were still upset. I've never seen you like that. I... I just... I don't know what I'm feeling!", I said.

He noticed the distress in my eyes and gently brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his other hand still holding mine. "I said it before, and I'm saying it again: I love you. I'll always love you. I could never be angry or upset with you. That side of mine is for the world."

His voice softened as he continued, "You know, around you, I forget everything – my anger, my worries. Everything dissipates with just a look at you." He kissed my hand, his lips warm against my skin.

'Are we good?' he asked. I nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. 

He smiled, reached out, and kissed my head. 

'I'm always here for you,' he whispered. 

'Now we should eat; it's almost ready – starving you would ruin the romance,' moving to the stove, he said with a chuckle.

"Mustafa", I called out his name while sitting on the counter. 

He turned to me attentively. I moved my hands forward to hold his. He quickly held both of my hands, his concerned eyes fixed on me. I tightened my grip, looking away, and said, 'You really love me that much?'. 

'Ofcourse, more than anything', he replied. I moved forward and kissed him on the cheek. 

With one arm behind my upper back and the other under my thighs, he picked me up in his arms, teasingly saying, 'You might have other plans, don't you want to eat?' 

I blushed and hit him with a playful jab on the chest. He chuckled, took me to the dinning table.

'Let me set the table for you', he said. 'I think it's ready', he added. 

'Yeah, smells amazing,' I said with a smile. He chuckled and stirred the pasta, the aroma wafting through the air once more. 

'Told you I'd make your favorite,' he said with a smile, serving the pasta onto plates and setting the table. We sat down together, and the first bite was like a taste of heaven.

And then he got up and headed to the living area, my gaze shifted to him while I held my fork in mid-air, pausing mid-bite. 

        The music started playing, and a smile spread across my face, but I tried to hide it. He came to me, extended his hand, and asked, 'May I have this dance?' 

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by the request, and my heart skipped a beat. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he smiled. I hesitated for a moment, the clink of silverware against the plate the only sound, before gently placing the fork on the plate. 

I placed my hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch as he wrapped his fingers around mine. As I stood up from the chair, the soft fabric of my night gown rustled against my skin. 

''You know I'm bad at it," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. 

"Don't worry, I'm here for you,"  he replied, his breath whispering against my ear, sending shivers down my spine and then he pulled me close, one hand holding mine while the other wrapped around my waist; I placed my hand on the back of his shoulder, with my arm resting on his biceps. 

        As we swayed to the music, the soft melody wrapped around us, and he lifted my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. I twirled against him, the fabric of our clothes rustling softly, and he pulled me close, his chest firm against mine. 

I felt myself collide with his chest, the warmth of his body radiating through my skin. Our eyes met, and he tightened his grip around my waist, his fingers tracing the curve of my waist. Our bodies aligned perfectly, and I could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, against my chest. The scent of his cologne wafted up, a subtle yet intoxicating aroma that drew me in. 

He stood still, his gaze locked on mine, his breath whispering against my skin. With our faces inches apart, time seemed to stand still, and I forgot how to breathe, the only sound being the soft hum of the music and the beating of our hearts.

I placed my hand on his chest, my gaze drifting downward. As I broke eye contact, he sensed my hesitation and loosened his grip around my waist. 

Yet, I remained nestled between his arms, my hand still resting on his chest, fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. His concerned and confused eyes lingered on my face, searching for answers. 

I looked up at him, and without a word, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His arms slid around my waist, his hands grasping my sides, holding me firmly in place. As I closed my eyes, I felt a deep sense of peace wash over me, like I'd finally found what I'd been searching for forever. 

He gently tightened his grip, and in that moment, all I wanted was for time to stand still, to spend the rest of my life enveloped in the warmth and safety of his arms.

        As I pulled back, "There's something I need to tell you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. 

"Wait here for me," I added, and went to the bedroom to get the file. 

As I was coming back to him, with the file in my hand, I suddenly felt unwell. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and the room began to spin. I stood there, placed my hand on the cool granite countertop of the kitchen counter, and looked at him, but everything was a blur. 

"Mustafa," I whispered, my voice shaking slightly, and then the file in my hand dropped to the floor, and I collapsed.

In an instant, he was beside me, catching me in his arms. He swept me up and carried me to the bed, cradling me with care. 

        As I regained consciousness, his worried face came into focus. I sat straight up on the bed, my eyes searching for the file. I spotted it on the side table beside the bed.

Watching my eyes on the file, he held my hand in his, his touch sending a surge of comfort through me. 

I looked at him, his eyes fixed on me.

"I've seen the reports. Is it true? Are you really...?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity.

I nodded, my heart racing with anticipation, my eyes searching for his reaction.

A tear flowed from his eyes, and his lips curled into a smile. He kissed my hand, the warmth of his lips spreading through my fingers. 

"You just made me the happiest person in the world. You just gave me the whole world", he said, his voice filled with gratitude.

"It's the day I've been dreaming of since the day I met you. I can't wait to be a father," he added, his voice filled with emotion, and then he kissed my head, hugging me tightly.