forbidden whispers

chapter 10

Qasim extended his hand, his long thick fingers tapping lightly beside her plate of pasta. Masa lifted her head, her wide eyes questioning him silently. His heart gave a faint shiver before he cleared his throat and asked:

“What happened to your clothes? Don’t you have anything else to wear?”

Masa frowned. What could she possibly say? She did have plenty of clothes… just none she found appropriate to wear in front of him. Of course, she wouldn’t tell him that. She shook her head in denial with a small innocent smile and gestured with her hands:

“Yes, I do… but I like this dress, that’s why I wore it.”

He furrowed his brows, thinking. He remembered that dress very well… and exactly how old it was. She herself had once confessed in her messages that it was the silliest dress she owned—the worst gift she ever received. Messages she had stopped sending because he never replied. And that, too, had been because of his mother. She had called him that day, demanding:

“Are you still texting her?!”

He exhaled in frustration.

“So what if I did?”

She repeated the question with stubborn insistence, as if he hadn’t answered at all:

“Did you text her?!”

He answered in defeat, his heart aching:

“Just once… I can’t ignore her messages.”

She scolded him sharply:

“You must. If you want her to cut any hope she has in you.”

His eyes widened in shock.

“Mom… she doesn’t know how I feel. You were the one who told me she’s still a child. Let me not break her heart.”

But his mother continued in the same firm, relentless tone:

“Break her heart now—she’ll heal with time. Do it for her, if you love her as much as you claim.”

And so he did. He obeyed.

He stopped texting her.

Let her send messages for months with no reply.

But what no one knew was that he read every single word.

Replied to every message—secretly.

Saved those replies in a hidden place as if they were treasures, along with her old messages.

Qasim took a sip of water, as if trying to swallow those bitter memories, then looked back at her. She sat across from him, her silky hair neatly tied up, and he remembered how it used to scatter across her pillow when he woke her up.

A thought whispered inside him: Did she style her hair like this on purpose… knowing he would see her?

Did she finally understand the truth of his feelings?

But her cold expression revealed nothing. As if his presence or absence meant the same.

She finished her food, pushing the plate aside with visible annoyance. Why did he keep staring at her that way? He was ruining her inner calm. She could never feel at ease around him.

She gestured with her hands:

“Will you be staying long? I mean… surely you can’t stay for too long, right?”

His eyes narrowed. He could see her tension. She tried pretending she didn’t care about his answer, but he could read the urgency behind her forced indifference.

Fine then, Masa… let’s see how you react.

He said casually, though he was watching her closely:

“I’ll wait until you finish your final exams… then we’ll return to Turkey.”

Her eyes widened in shock.

Surely she misread his lips. Why would he wait here? Why would she go with him to Turkey? What business did he have dragging her anywhere?

She gestured again, confused:

“I don’t understand. You’re taking me with you to Turkey?! Why?! What am I supposed to do there?!”

He shrugged indifferently:

“You’ll stay with me until my parents return from their trip. That was my mother’s request… she said she wouldn’t feel at ease unless you were by my side.”

I want to scream… should I hire someone to scream on my behalf?

How was she supposed to explain to this i***t that she was on the brink of losing her mind? She could tolerate him for a week—but until his mother returned? That could be weeks… even months! Impossible.

She lifted her hands sharply, stopping him before he continued. She needed to gather her thoughts—to make him understand how absurd this was.

“You can’t leave your fiancée for that long! Don’t bother yourself with me… my aunt can come back and stay with me for a while. I won’t burden her.”

He shook his head firmly, eyes drilling into her as if trying to read her soul:

“She’s only my fiancée. We don’t live together. I can message her or call her anytime—this isn’t a big problem. You are my priority.”

She shot to her feet, outraged:

“You’re not obligated to do any of this! I’m not going anywhere—not now, not ever!”

She was angry—furious. Maybe he should postpone the conversation.

He sighed, scooping a spoonful of pasta and chewing slowly.

“This is a matter for later. Don’t trouble yourself with it right now.”

Don’t trouble myself?!

He drops a bomb and expects her not to think about it. Ridiculous. Still… she pushed the headache aside and turned toward him, gesturing again:

“Do you have photos from your engagement party? I want to see my parents at your celebration. My friend got upset that I missed my only brother’s engagement… so I promised her I’d show her the pictures.”

Qasim choked on his food.

Brother.

He hadn’t heard her call him that in years. And now… the word felt foreign. Wrong.

Because nothing he felt for her resembled brotherhood.

Masa hurriedly handed him a glass of water. He drank it in one gulp, and she gently patted his back. When he looked up at her—messy hair bun, a dress that made her look like a wrapped mummy—her beauty hadn’t dimmed one bit.

Her almond-shaped honey eyes that reflected every color she wore…

Her soft rosy lips that drove him insane every time he looked at her…

How had she ever been just a sister to him?

The moment she finished her exams, things would change. All of it.

Masa’s cheeks flushed under his intense gaze.

Does he look at his fiancée like this too?

No wonder she fell for him.

She snapped herself out of those forbidden thoughts, pretending to yawn as she stepped back. She gestured quickly:

“I’m full. I’ll go to bed now. Good night.”

Qasim watched her leave with frustration tightening his chest.

He wanted to sit with her longer… he had longed for this moment for years.

Those years away from her had been bitter and empty.

Masa felt just as uneasy. How was she supposed to deal with him in the coming days? And this stupid dress wasn’t helping at all—every step she climbed, she stepped on its hem. It felt as if the dress was conspiring with her aunt against her.

A gift wrapped in love… and blessed with sabotage.

She just needed to reach her room—her sanctuary.

But then she lost her balance.

Her foot caught the stupid dress at the middle of the stairs. She tried to grip the railing, but her sweaty hand slipped against the polished wood. She felt her weight tilt—falling was inevitable.

Except she didn’t fall.

Instead of crashing onto the hard steps, she found herself pressed against a warm, solid chest. Qasim’s arms wrapped around her, one holding the railing tightly to stop both of them from falling.

She froze against him, feeling his hot breath, the wild beating of his heart beneath her palms. She tried to pull away—desperate to escape the wave of embarrassment engulfing her—but his arms only tightened painfully, as if refusing to let go.

Her body trembled in his hold. He felt her fear… her confusion… her need to step away. He released her abruptly, meeting her frightened eyes, anger flickering in his own. He cursed under his breath, lifted her into his arms, and hurried up the stairs, carrying her into her room.

He set her down gently beside the bed.

Masa didn’t lift her head. She was afraid—of him, of herself, of her foolish feelings. She wished he would just leave quietly.

But of course, nothing ever went her way.

He grabbed her chin, lifting her face to his. His gaze was sharp, commanding. He gestured, demanding she focus on his lips.

Then he said, voice laced with threat—one that made her heart tremble:

“Wear that damned dress again… and I’ll tear it off you.”

He turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Masa exhaled in relief the moment he left and collapsed onto her bed.

That lunatic.

What did he even mean?

Who gave him the right to talk to her like that?

If he laid a single finger on her again, she would kill him—truly.

Trying to distract herself from the mortifying scene, she recited her lessons silently. Anything to pull her mind away from what had happened. But in the end, she gave up and whispered to herself in defeat:

“There’s no use…”

To be continued…