Chapter 34
CHAPTER 34
AZARA
No matter how much time had passed, this day never got any easier.
If anything, it felt like the opposite.
Every year without her seemed to bring a fresh wave of pain, more painful than the previous one. And with the way things were with my dad and Zayd off in Morocco, spending his winter break with our cousins, the loneliness that I’d usually manage to bury beneath a pile of distractions and obligations had nowhere to hide this time.
I’d even tried to schedule a shift so I wouldn’t have to spend the day at home, but I’d been given a warning about the number of hours I’d worked over the past month.
Something about it not being healthy.
But I hadn’t cared.
This was how I coped with things, by working more and harder— anything to avoid sitting with my feelings and letting myself sink into oblivion from the weight of them.
I knew how to forget. That was easy.
But living with these overwhelming feelings of grief and loss? That wasn’t something I was equipped to deal with or wanted to handle.
A therapist would probably have a field day with me.
I’d spent the day trying to busy myself, hoping the constant motion would keep the thoughts at bay. But now, with the sun setting and having already scrubbed every inch of my flat as well as rearranged my furniture a dozen times—only to place it back the way it originally was—I found myself back where I started this morning.
It was in times like these that I really wished I had a hobby.
I could go for a run, but it was getting late, and the earlier light dusting of snow was now thundering from above, so I quickly abandoned the idea. I picked up my phone to send the girls a message and see if they’d want to come over. But as I opened our group chat, I was reminded from the latest message that Hazel was in Ireland with Eddy’s family, while Nakia was in Paris for some rare painting she’d been chasing for months.
I really regretted not taking her up on her offer to go with her. I’d finally wrapped up my seven years of surgery training last week and hadn’t taken a proper vacation since I started working at Amanar, so getting time off wouldn’t have been a difficult request.
But being in the city of love had been the last place I wanted to be in.
Not when Michael and I still hadn’t really spoken or seen each other since I’d left his apartment that day. It wasn’t like we could avoid each other since we worked together, but whenever I did see him, he was rushing to somewhere else. He even sent any communication either via email or Marcella relayed the information.
I’d tried to be understanding, that he probably blamed himself for what happened to Alice because that’s exactly what I would have done if anything ever happened to Zayd.
But a month was a long time and it felt like whatever was happening between us had just been carelessly thrown to the side with no regards to how I felt.
I’d tried not to dwell on it too much, and I hated myself for caring.
I’d never been anyone’s priority before and he’d made me feel like I was his.
That he cared how I felt, as much I did for him.
I’d never had that before.
I’d never been chosen, but with him, for the first time, I felt like I had been.
I knew, deep down, that his reaction wasn’t intentional. Something had scared him off, but it wasn’t my job to make excuses for him or find reason for his silence.
And yet, when I looked down at my phone again, my finger hovered over his name.
Azara, don’t , I tried to reason with myself, but against my better judgment, my fingers began typing out a message. Only to end up deleting every iteration because what would I even say?
Hey, how have you been?
Or.
You haven’t answered any of my messages, but my mum’s dead, and I need you.
I let out a frustrated groan and threw my phone on my bed with more force than necessary.
You’re being ridiculous, Azara.
Warring emotions I couldn’t even begin to untangle battled inside my chest. The weight of this past year, these last few months, weeks, this day bore down on me, suffocating me with no relief in sight.
I squeezed my eyes and focused on taking deep breaths before I spiraled into a state of panic I’d have no way of clawing myself a way out of. I needed to have a word with whoever had invented feelings because having to fight with something intangible was utterly draining.
This was precisely why I’d always stuck to simple. No strings. No attachments.
It was effective, uncomplicated.
Because attachment meant that there was a chance for someone to leave. It gave them a chance to walk away or… die.
And once that happened, because inevitably, it always did, I’d be left with pain.
I pushed past the ache in my chest and made my way upstairs to brew myself a cup of green tea. I sipped it slowly, the warmth grounding me a bit, as I moved to the couch, planning to spend the rest of my day binge-watching films so I could lose myself in someone else’s life and forget about my own for a brief moment.
I’d just settled on watching my favorite Samia Farès drama film when there was a knock at my door. My brows furrowed for a moment on who it could be when I remembered I’d ordered myself takeout, too tired to cook tonight. It came earlier than I’d expected considering I’d only placed my order ten minutes ago, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I placed my mug on the table and was about to open the door when I remembered how I looked. I untucked my gandoura ? 1 from the sides of my underwear and smoothed the strays curls of my messy bun back before finally answering the door.
Only it wasn’t a delivery driver with my Chinese takeaway. No, instead, there he was, standing on my doorstep in a black jumper and trousers, a dusting of snow clinging all over him.
I blinked, thinking I was hallucinating, but when I opened my eyes again, Michael was still there. The air in my lungs became thin when his gaze slowly met mine for the first time in weeks, but I managed to push through it.
“What are you doing here?”
It wasn’t the warmest of greetings, but it wasn’t like he deserved any better.
Michael was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on me. The expression on his face transported me back to the night of Alice’s accident. When I held him in my arms, trying to soothe him from the guilt and shock of seeing his sister in that state.
I’d seen him in passing at work, but this was the first time in weeks where I’d really taken a look at him. He looked exhausted, his eyes were tired and the scruff along his jawline was longer than I’d ever seen it.
I wondered if he was okay, before I chastised myself for caring. He wasn’t my responsibility. He’d made that abundantly clear.
“I wanted to see you,” he finally said and the breath in my lungs stalled at hearing his voice. My heart stuttered, then hammered painfully against my ribcage, as if it wanted to break free and close the rift he’d created between us, but I firmly reminded it of its place.
I let out a pained sigh, shaking my head. “I think it’s a bit late for that.” I stared for a moment longer, before I closed the door.
Once I heard it click shut, my body sagged against it, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. I’d almost convinced myself he’d been a figment of my imagination, a cruel torture my mind had conjured to toy with me because, earlier, I’d almost gave in and told him I needed him.
But then his voice came through the other side of the door. It was softer this time, and ladened with aching desperation.
“Azara, please… just let me in.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, torn between what I knew I should do and what I wanted to do. I shouldn’t let him in. I should walk back to the couch and carry-on with my evening as I’d planned.
But, god… a small, selfish part of me wanted to forget about these last few weeks and let myself sink into his arms, seeking the comfort I’d been craving all day, one that I’d learned over the last months only he could give me.
I heard a slight shift on the other side, and for a split second, I thought he was leaving. But then he spoke again. “I’ll wait here until you let me in.”
“Michael, just go home. There’s nothing for you here.”
In the grand scheme of things, we were never anything more than two people who had to work together. Real couples broke up every day. They mourned what once was and eventually learned how to live without the other, until one day, it didn’t matter anymore. They eventually forgot you were a part of their story and they moved on.
That’s what I had to convince myself of. This was just another chapter, and though it felt different than any I’d ever been on, he’d forget, and we’d all move on.
But the words had barely left my lips when he replied, “Everything is.”
My head dropped back as I closed my eyes, the weight of his response washing over me. I could barely hear myself think over the thundering beat of my pulse.
Everything is.
I tried not to dwell on them, because words were meaningless unless they were made tangible. So why did my stupid heart skip a beat at them? Why did my body ache to know what he meant by that?
I walked away before I caved. I sipped on the now-cold tea and tried to distract myself. But it was pointless. I couldn’t focus on anything and although I was locked inside my house, his presence invaded every space.
I could hear him still sitting on the cold, hard floor, shifting occasionally as if he was searching for a comfortable position.
I sat there for what felt like an eternity, until the images on the screen blurred, the dialogue muffled in the background because all I kept hearing was his voice in my head.
Everything is.
The film was about halfway through when I heard voices outside my door.
I frowned for a moment, before I heard Michael say, “Thanks, mate. You can leave it with me. I’ll hand it to her once she?—”
I was at the door in an instant, yanking it open just as the delivery driver was handing Michael the large paper bag containing my fried rice and spring rolls. I yanked the takeaway bag before Michael got a hold of it and held it hostage. I wouldn’t put it past him to use it as leverage to make me talk to him.
The young man flicked his gaze between the two of us, unsure what situation he’d walked into. He eventually just shrugged and made a hasty exit.
“Thank you,” I called out to the teenager before retreating back inside my flat, not bothering to spare more than a fleeting glance at Michael. But just as I was about to close the door, Michael wedged his foot in, blocking my attempt.
“Move,” I muttered, my fingers tightening around the bag of food while my eyes stayed glued to the floor, desperate to avoid his gaze for fear of giving in.
“I can’t, I don’t want to,” he replied, his voice pained but determined. “Look at me,” he added, his hand reaching out to make me, but I jerked away from his touch.
“Why are you still here?” I asked impatiently, meeting his gaze. Frustration simmered beneath my skin at his insistence. Where had all of this been two weeks ago when I showed up at his place? He was the one who’d pushed me away, so why was he expecting a different treatment from me now?
Why couldn’t he just leave?
“I told you,” he replied, his eyes never wavering from mine. “I needed to see you.”
My arms shot out to either side in exasperation. “Great. Now you’ve seen me. Goodbye.”
With that, I moved to slam the door shut once again, but he was quicker and pushed his way inside my home. “I’m not leaving,” he said, his voice firm.
I froze, my eyes widened in disbelief. “Like hell you aren’t,” I snapped, stepping forward in an attempt to get him out. “You need to leave.”
But he didn’t move. Instead, he shut the door and locked it behind him. “Not until we talk,” he said, slipping off his coat and draping it over the console by the door.
“No.”
“Yes,” he insisted, slowly taking a step toward me.
I shook my head. “No. You don’t get to do this.” My voice rose, but I couldn’t stop it. I could feel the heat of my irritation crawling up my neck, the weight of it pressing against my chest. I’d been holding on to this for too long, and now there was nothing I could do to stop them. “You don’t get to ignore me for two weeks and come back demanding we talk when you pushed me away. Not when you threw me out and didn’t even give me the decency of a conversation.”
“Azara.” My name was a sigh.
I closed my eyes, my throat tightening. “Michael, please leave,” I said, my anger splintering into exhaustion. It’d already been a day, and I didn’t want to deal with this.
When the room fell quiet, I held on to the hope that he’d leave. But instead, his hands came on my shoulders and snaked up my neck until his hands were tangled in my hair.
I squeezed my eyes further and a deep sigh rattled my chest at his touch.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret. His grip on the back of my head tightened, pulling me closer as he pressed his forehead to mine. “I’m sorry that I fucked up and shut you out when that was the last thing I’d ever want to do.”
I didn’t know what to feel, what to think or how to react. Since I’d left his apartment that night, I’d silently wished to hear these words, but why had it taken him so long to tell me this?
“Why should I believe you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I still couldn’t look at him. I was too afraid to meet his gaze, of what I might find there.
But my will was barely holding and the longer he was near me, touching me, the more my resolve was wavering.
Michael exhaled a shaky breath. “Because I l—” He abruptly stopped himself and I held my breath as the unspoken words hung in the air.
I felt him pull away, just enough that I could feel the weight of his eyes on me.
“I didn’t know what to do then,” he paused, tilting my head up.
His thumbs reached up to brush across my cheeks before gently moving over my eyelids as if he was willing them to open. He was so close, I could feel every rise of his chest with each breath. I could almost hear the way his heart thundered against his ribcage.
His breath ghosted across my lips as he uttered his next words. “I know what I want. I’ve always known, I was just too bloody stubborn to let myself see it.”
My eyes fluttered open despite my best efforts, and the moment I met his gaze, it was as if time slowed to a crawl. Every second seemed to stretch into an eternity as his gaze filled with emotions I didn’t dare naming yet.
Emotions that mirrored my own.
I’d never felt so strongly about anyone before. The intensity was so foreign, so overwhelming, that I was still trying to grapple on what it all meant.
I’d always walked a clear path and I was so certain this was how I wanted my life to be. I moved from one day to the next, blind to what more life had to offer because it was easier that way.
And I had liked it. Or at least I’d thought so.
Until this man with dark eyes and an uncanny ability to irritate me to the point of wanting to strangle him came into my life and destabilized everything I’ve ever known, sending me tumbling over the edge.
“I want you, Azara.”
1 ? Moroccan light tunic/dress