Breaking Her Walls

░Fourteen░

SOPHIA

Why is he here?

Oh God I don't want him to see me like this. I quickly run to the bathroom, check my face in the mirror and . . . yup, I was right!

My red eyes and wet eyelashes surely give away the fact that I've been crying.

Aahil either didn't notice or didn't care. Either way, I have stopped caring about him. He's just an unfeeling bastard.

I take in deep breaths, wipe my eyes and nose, and let my jungle of hair down. I surround my face with them.

Okay, now I just look like a witch and Abdallah will surely see me in his nightmares tonight.

I walk back to my bedroom, check myself in the mirror once again, shrug and trudge out of the room and down the stairs.

•••

The first thing I notice is a worried look on his face and his jumping knee.

Okay, that's two things.

As soon as I step into the living room, his eyes flick to mine. Then, slowly and gradually they move down the length of my body. I see him hide a smile behind his hand.

I mentally slap myself for coming in front of him wearing my sponge bob hoodie and pajamas that are torn from the knees. I mean, I don't care about the way I look but I don't want to give him an excuse of amusement.

I make my way to the sofa and ensconce myself onto the one parallel to him.

Where do I even start from?

He takes in a deep breath and looks my way.

Before he has the chance to say anything, I blurt, "I can't marry you."

His lips press into a thin line and he continues bouncing his knee.

Okayyyy.

We sit in silence for a minute then he finally opens his mouth.

"Listen, I don't know who told you but I swear I was about to tell you–"

"Wait wait. Tell me what?"

He swirls his hand in the air as if that means something.

"That I'm not . . . you know, rich?" He says on a wince.

I sit in shock for a second.

He thinks I don't want to get married to him because he's not rich. I did not know that but I wouldn't reject someone just because they have less money.

I will my mind to quickly think. How can I turn this to my advantage?

My ankle comes to rest on my knee. He notices that movement and tries to hide yet another smile.

Okay, here it goes.

My breath scorches my throat with every inhale.

"You're right." I say, mustering up my best pitiful smile. "I can't live in that shitty excuse of a house–"

He flinches. Like I've physically hurt him.

I continue, trying to keep a rein on some foreign emotion, "I mean, I have so many good proposals every day why would I even choose you?"

I would definitely choose him even if I had the proposal of a prince.

His stormy grey eyes darken. His gaze tightening. "You tell me. You're the one that accepted my proposal in the first place."

"That was before I knew about your financial condition." I put enough venom in it to make it sound like an insult.

He stares at me. And stares. And stares. His face is grave, abstracted, almost fancying sad.

Then, he gets up and nods. Offers me a half-huff, half-smile. And he's out of the living room, shutting the door so hard, it rattles for a moment or two.

I clench my hands so tight, my nails dig into my palms and the hurt I feel makes tears well up in my eyes.

It's for the best.

I couldn't tell him the real reason.

And what would I have even said?

I'm sorry, Abdallah but you don't deserve me? I'm far too messed up, too much of a failure, too mean, too angry at the world and . . . too hurt? Oh and I'm not pure?

If it was someone else I wouldn't have bothered but in the past month I've seen far too much of him.

He's a good man. A beautiful man. Inside out. He cares about his Mother and siblings and everyone around him.

He's my complete opposite.

Most of all, he's pure. I know he is.

So yes, he doesn't deserve me. And no way was I going to give him the 'it's not you, it's me' speech.

Better he stay away from me on his own. Actually I'm very happy that he hates me. Good for both of us.

It's been my mission to hurt people before they get too close and yeah . . . mission accomplished.