Are We Okay?

Chapter 2

We were now married and in our temporary house for a year. His family is quite rich and is to be able to afford these types of things. 

But one thing that I love about his family is that they don't let their wealth get to their heads. They are very modest and so caring. 

My family isn't poor either, we're more middle class and I'm content with that honestly. 

Abdullah had been incredibly sweet to me, but ever since we got to our own house he's been distant and all he does is go to work, come back, eat, then go to sleep. 

For the past three months now, he doesn't even look at me while doing all these.

I began setting the table for the both of us when he walka in with slumped shoulders, his suit jacket slumped off his shoulders as he dropped his laptop bag onto the couch. 

"Asalamalaikum." I smile, holding his bag for him. 

"Walaikumsalam," he replies before taking a seat at the chair. 

"Wait! Don't eat yet." I hold his hand before he can put the spoon full of fried rice in his mouth. He looks at my hand on his, then at me. I quickly let it go and look down at the floor, feeling tears in my eye. 

Where have I gone wrong? I can't touch him, look at him, speak to him without him giving me a look of rejection. 

His look makes me feel scared, rejected, and lonely...

"I just thought we should eat together for a change that's all." I let out a sigh. 

"Aminat, I'm too tired for this." He sighs as he cracks his knuckles. 

"Oh, okay, that's totally fine, here I'll take your jacket upstairs," I tell him, adding a small smile as he hands me his jacket. His is now left in his white shirt. 

"Do you need anything else?" I ask and he shakes his head. 

I nod, then take his bag, and head up to our room. I hang his jacket and place his bag beside the bed. I head downstairs to find him groaning in pain as he rubs his neck and back. 

"Are you in pain?" I ask, standing there dumbly.

Gee, genius he didn't know that... way to go.

Mentally cursing myself, I rush to him and clear my throat. 

"Do you want me to give you a massage? I'm quite skilled with my hands." I smile, nodding excitedly. "I love giving massages. I've only given them to my sister and mother, of course. I think it's really fun, plus I get to relax and exercise my hands."

He looks at me, then snickers a little before laughing loudly. 

Why is he laughing at me?

Before I can control myself, the tears just came sliding down my cheeks as I fidget with my fingers. 

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't..." he stops laughing and clears his throat. 

"Stop crying, please." He sighs, standing up. 

"Why don't you talk to me anymore? Were you forced to marry me?"

I just lose all control over myself and cry harder. 

"We've been here for three months and you don't talk to me, you don't look at me. All I do is cook, clean, cook, clean, and I'm happy to do that for you, it's my duty, but you don't even acknowledge me. I feel more like your maid than your wife." As soon as that left my mouth, he stands up abruptly. 

In fear, I jump back and stop crying instantly. "I'm... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have talked to you like that, please forgive me." I look down, not meeting his eyes. 

"No, no, don't apologize. I'm sorry I have been neglecting you way too much. It's just my work." He sighs and rubs his faces in irritation. 

"It's okay," I whisper. 

"Let's eat." He looks at me with a smile. 

"Come on, I'll feed you." He pulls me down on his chair, then pulls another chair beside me, and picks up his plate.

I look down at my hands shyly. "It's okay I'll eat my--"

"Don't I have a right to feed my habibti?" he says. 

My cheek heats up and I look up slowly while trying to avoid his eyes but his ocean-blue ones were too captivating for me to look away. I feel safe, peaceful all of a sudden. 

"Aminat," he whispers. 

"Mm?"

"I'm kinda tired, so can we eat?" he whispers. 

"Oh! I'm sorry." I blush and glance away from his eyes. 

"It's alright, you can stare later I am your husband, but right now food comes first," he says, giving me a huge grin. I smile shyly and look away. 

"Now open up," he says as he holds the spoon of rice against my mouth. I open my mouth and start eating. 

After he feeds me the whole plate, I feel bad. 

"Can I feed you too?" I ask.

"I don't see why not?"

I smile then take my own plate and start feeding him. 

"I'm quite full, by the way, the food was delicious. JazakAllahu Khayran," he says. He bends down and kisses my cheek. My face instantly heats up at that. 

"Wa antum fa jazaakum allahu khayran," I reply.

After cleaning up downstairs, I head upstairs to find him twisting and turning around in bed. 

"Abdullah?" I whisper. 

He stops then lays still. "Yes?"

"Do you want me to give you a massage?" 

"Please." He sighs and takes off his shirt. Oh my Lord! His toned, muscled chest stands at my attention. I blink a few times as I stare him down in shame. 

A clearance of throat shakes me out of my shameless thoughts. I blush, then sit beside him as he lays down on his stomach.