Broken by Fatima Bala EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Fatima Bala
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Suspense
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Abuja, September 2016
So, do you want to talk about it?”
I really didn’t want to talk about it, but I could feel his stare
piercing the back of my head. We were in the living room in my parents’
house, one of the three living rooms in the house that I grew up in. I didn’t
turn around because I could not stand to look him in the face, and even as I
walked further away from his voice, all I could do in that moment was take
a deep breath and in an attempt to distance myself from his gaze, I opened
the fridge and took out a bottle of milk. Within seconds, the bottle fell on
the floor, spilling milk on the cold, grey-marbled tiles of the dining room,
missing the brown carpet by inches.
“Ugh,” I looked around for something to clean up the mess, angry at my
clumsiness.
“Are you seriously not gonna answer me?” he asked again.
I could hear the hint of frustration in his voice, even though he
maintained his distance. He was always good at taking a step back and
giving me space – far enough for me to not feel suffocated, yet close
enough for him to hover over me whenever he felt the need to. The strong
scent of his oud perfume reminded me of happier times, and in a moment of
weakness, it almost propelled me to turn around and look at his face. But I
was determined not to. I could feel tears moistening my eyes, so I focused
my sight on the marble tiles and the spilled milk that was refusing to get
soaked by the paper towels I found on the dining table.
I heard the door in the outer hallway door close with a slight bang, and
just as I was rounding up my cleaning, his voice dropped like a cannonball:
“Someone is here.” Crouched on the floor, I sighed as I heard him walking
away from the dining room and towards the living room. Let the charade
begin.
“Umma, ina wuni. Good evening,” I heard him from the dining room
and imagined him dropping to the customary crouch as he greeted my
mother.
I could hear my mum walking into the living room that led her towards
us. I looked up to find her regally dressed as though she were the mother of
a bride, in a heavy cream-colored burgundy brocade gown and a maroon
veil wrapped over her head with her gold bracelets clanking together by the
slow, deliberate movements she made as she looked around the room.
She adjusted her veil over her head as she answered him: “Ahmad, How
are you? When did you come back?”
“I came back last night, Umma,” he answered.
“Oh yes, that’s right. Your mum mentioned that you would be coming
back this week.” She smiled at him as he stood next to her by the door. “An
gama Masters din dai? Have you finished the Masters?”
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