"What are you saying, Ahad?" Iman asked in disbelief.
I clenched my jaw.
"He is a nice friend. I talk to him like any other boy. There is nothing else going on between us. That's it," she snapped.
Something flashed in her eyes, but before I could catch it, she blinked and turned away. Still, I knew her so well that I understood it.
Hatred.
Why am I like this, making her hate me now?
I felt the pain of an arrow piercing my heart.
I should apologize-maybe I was overthinking. She has never had a crush on him, and the fact that she sometimes calls him 'brother' proves me wrong. But then why-why does my gut always sense something is wrong when he is near her? She has to understand that Hafiz does not feel the same way.
She turned on her heels, clearly hating me more for having such a cheap thought about my best friend.
I wanted to catch her, to bury her face in my chest, but-
"He is planning to propose to you." Shanzay's words echoed in my head.
Something woke up inside me, making my blood boil.
Before I could register what I was saying, it was too late.
"You like him, don't you?"
I instantly regretted it, but what was said was said. The words hung in the air between us.
She turned to face me fully. Her cheeks reddened, her eyes widened with shock, and her breathing slowed.
I should have stopped immediately or said something else to keep her from hating me, to avoid ruining our friendship of ages. Instead, I kept shouting.
"Maybe he loves you too." I let out a weak, humorless chuckle. "Why don't you go to him, huh?"
God, what the hell am I saying?
"Maybe I should prepare names for your babies—"
Before I could complete my sentence—
Thud!
Her hand landed on my face with so much force that I believed her fingerprints were etched into my skin.
My eyes were locked on the white marble floor, and the sting of her slap penetrated deep beneath my skin. But something else hurt more than anything—more than if someone had cut my left arm into pieces.
A tear fell from her left eye, slid down her skin, and landed on her elegant jaw.
Dammit.
I made her cry.
Shit.
What kind of man am I if I'm making the only girl I have eyes for cry because of my overthinking?
I reached for her.
"Iman," my voice softened.
I held out my arms to grab her, but she turned away, hiding her pain behind a fragile wall.
God!
"Iman," dammit, did my voice really come out raw and broken?
She didn't turn to face me. Instead, she walked to her room.
I tried to force my legs to follow her, to make my tongue say something—anything—to take back the nonsense that had shattered her heart.
But there was only silence. Complete silence.
Nothing moved, and nothing was left to feel.
I doubted if there was even air in the corridor.