. . .
Amr came back to the house that weekend. He looked gloomy when she ran into him in the corridor. He should be happy with the incoming nuptial. “What happen to your brother?” Zen can’t help but asked Dian about him. “He’s stressed.” Dian is shushing her and asks to follow her into her room.
“Why is he stressed? He should be happy.” “Yeah, it’s because he’s forced into this marriage.” “What? That’s not what I heard.” “Yes, that’s what everybody is thinking. But Amr doesn’t really like Fea’s family. Especially Hareez.” “Is that all? Surely, he can manage that.” “Not really if Madame Gee and all his clan are involved.” “But I can see him really like Fea.” “Well, Fea is convenience.”
“What does even mean?” “You know when you need a girlfriend to talk to or to tell things you don’t want to tell your family? That’s her.” “A real girlfriend then. And a manager of their business.” “Yes, their relationship was special. Until recently, when Fea came back from Paris and asked Amr to marry her. Amr hesitated but he didn’t want to break their relationship.”
“So, what now? Maybe your brother is stressed because of the preparation.” “Maybe, but he rarely stressed like this, he looks heartbroken and deep in sorrow.” Dian seems like recalling something but then brushes up the thought. “Don’t worry, Amr always get back to his feet in less than a day. Just be careful during the night. Amr tends to become devil when stressed.” Dian didn’t explain further about Amr’s condition.
“Oh, my heart.” She nearly jumps at his sudden appearance in the kitchen. He even lets the buttons on his pyjama undone. “Amr, is that you? You startled me.” He takes a seat opposite her at the kitchen island. “I hate women. I shouldn’t trust women. And I hate marriage.” He starts mumbling something to her. What’s he talking about? She tries to understand the essence of his sentences.
After a while, she can look at how he’s in a state of half-conscious and looking blankly at her. It must be that time when someone has muddled his mind and can’t think straight about anything. It’s better if she doesn’t provoke him. Marriage does disturb his peace of mind.
“Your mother is a woman, your sister is a woman, I’m a woman. Do you hate us?” “No, I love you. I just hate her. That scheming cruel woman. I should know it from the start. One day she’ll push her to marry me. She was a sweet girl the first time I knew her. Now, she’s changed because of pressure from her family. Why can’t she just be like you? Ask for friendship only. No strings attached.”
“You didn’t like marriage.” She tries to guess his source of worries. “I don’t like the responsibility. I’ve enough responsibility with what I’ve now.” “But don’t you’ve to be responsible after what you’ve done with her? It’s easy to have all the fun and the pleasure, but as a human, you can’t abandon her just like that. You should be happy, the two of you’ll have a child together.” “I want to have children with you. He or she must be as cute as you.” His sudden suggestion makes her stop talking.
“What are you drinking?” He glances at her cup and covers his head with his hands. He does look really stressed. “Warm green tea is good for the immune system. Do you want me to make you chamomile tea? It’s good to relieve stress.” “You believe things like that?” “Yes, I believe in so many things. It’s good to hold on to something. Belief, friends, family, love, career. We can’t have it all at once. Our lives are short. Appreciate it more while you’re at it. It’ll soon expire without us even realised it and waste it all with regrets.”
“You do know how to play with words.” She made the chamomile tea and passes it across. He intentionally touches her hand when she gives it to him. He does know his way with women. “Well, enjoy your tea.” She finishes hers and is set to go up to her room. He stops her at the end of the island and hugs her tightly. The sudden action surprised her. He’s squeezing her body and inhaling her scent. He releases her after a moment. “Good night and dream about me.” She can’t believe he had just done that. He’s crazy.
. . .
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