Chapter 2: Execute Pt.2 of 3

(Amunet in the meeting room)

Fatima answered the door dressed in a more typical attire of a white hijab and modest robes, as she looked through the peephole first before answering it to Bashir’s solemn expression upon opening. A family friend along with business partner he normally reserved his visits for monthly business appraisals both she and her husband Abdal appreciated more than not, with the face-to-face meetings over anything else, even video calls and Bashir living locally made it less of a burden or a chore and more of a friendly gathering often inviting him and his family over to eat with them in the process.

His look of concern as she invited him in perturbed her as uncharacteristic of him, except in the most serious of cases. “Is something wrong Bashir? Do you need to sit down?” she queried quickly before he took his favored seat on the family couch when he made these monthly visits. He looked at her with what looked like a deep seated pity for her in turn with what he seemingly had to tell her. “You might want to join me in taking a seat Fatima, I believe some ... truths must be shared between us that I suspect will rob your limbs of any strength, I suspect will either be drained or in the swift need of pummeling either me as the harbinger of the news of I bring or your husband as it’s unequivocal source, maybe even both”, he said with an honest look in his eyes that made Fatima’s legs tremble beneath her before she swiftly took a seat facing him. “What is it Bashir, be gentle or be clear, but please tell me before I’m forced to call my husband and find out on my own”, she said, eyeing the closest wireless home phone on its handset dock on the nearby table.

Looking down at his knees as he took a moment to choose his words carefully, she watched how the stout man, many degrees more inclined to obesity than her yet somehow made all the more charming and approachable for it, suddenly shuddered as if trying to shake off the burden of news he had to deliver to her. “For whatever reason he has chosen, Abdal has decided today that he must confess that he has had more than just serious doubts about his relationship with you when faced with the temptation of a younger, more attractive woman ... or should I say “girl” in this instance. If she is a day older than my twenty-one-year-old Kairi I would be pleasantly surprised”, he said with obvious disdain “What’s worse he has effectively managed to keep this a secret for the past two years during his monthly business trips throughout the region, in the hopes of meeting her regularly at some middle point of their choosing and claimed it as part of the travel expenses. He has yet to fully divulge how much he’s actually spent on her, in that sense but I can only pray our accountants are kind to us, whilst at the same time being brutally honest, although he swears he never once spent ... God, that is not the point, the point is he wishes to file for divorce and for you to acknowledge there is no future you can share with him that can involve him losing the his fixation with this girl. He himself admitted to me the trip he took when he first started this ... catastrophe! Was meant to be his last before he saw “her”. Although he claims “she” loves him and been wanting to raise a family with him ... I can barely continue Fatima, I suggest ... I suggest you burn everything he owns and deliver the ashes to his girlfriend if that makes you happy, but please do not waste a tear on this man and sign whatever divorce papers that will surely be forthcoming. Sell your shares, live out the rest of your life in happiness and the comfort that is due to you, leave this marriage behind, just don’t bury yourself with it now that it’s dead, as shocking as that might seem coming from a friend”, he said looking into her eyes, somehow grateful that she’d let him say his piece and at the same time uncertain if he should have said as much as he did. But what else could he do?

Fatima felt the color drain from her face as she stared at Bashir in disbelief. The words echoed in her mind like a nightmare she couldn’t wake from. Two years? Another woman? Divorce? It was too much to take in at once. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, her hand shaking as she gripped the armrest of the chair. “Tell me everything,” she whispered her voice barely a murmur. “I can do better than that, he made me record him explaining it to you, so that there be no confusion as to what he believes is best for both you and him”, Bashir said retrieving his Smartphone from his pants pocket and setting it up in landscape mode on the nearby table, it’s open-book case acting as a base for it stand by itself on as he selected the video file and pressed play.

Within moments Abdal was recorded leaning over a wood grain table, clothed in same attire that consisted of the simple white buttoned shirt and navy trousers minus the matching navy tie she tied for him before his departure just a day ago, Abdal never being adept at tying such things, especially as he got older. His collar now though hung open and loose, his kind smile bordered by his white beard and matching moustache, peered at her with soft, dark eyes as his subtly handsome features filled the screen.

“To begin simply, I have entrusted Bashir to tell you the truth. I ... I do not know how to say this simply so I’ll say this honestly”, he began, his gaze unwavering. “She ... is a mirror of the woman I met almost thirty years ago when I fell in love with you. She treats me like something to be experienced, instead of something worn with time and use and never once have I blamed her for it, never once have I failed to ask for more as I left her to return to you. Don’t mistake my feelings Fatima, yes I am your husband and yes you have every right and more to banish me from your heart, your life, your ... everything, and yes it will hurt, I’ve shared my life with you for almost thirty years and never regretted it, not until now, not until I decided I needed to be the one to hurt you like this rather than let it build up for longer and make it somehow worse and more unbearable with time. In essence for twenty-seven years of my life I have loved you, for two more I have loved another and lied to you about it. Do not dwell on her, or her age as Bashir will probably tell you is starkly different to yours or mine. It’s not who she is, it’s not who you are...”, he said with a growing passion in his tone as he gave voice to this truth about the whole sordid affair “it’s about how you both make me feel and she unfortunately, she makes me feel like I could be a better man and maybe even someday a better husband by letting you go and accepting her. Let me re-iterate, she’s not the reason, I am, I have failed you Fatima. And if it makes any difference she has always wanted me to come out to you about our affections for eachother, its been my inaction all this time that has seen this go so far, for so long without telling you or anyone else. None at the company know, and as I told Bashir although I would understand his distrust of me, nothing beyond the norm was spent to coerce her affection for me, as it will be proved by our accountants. But sadly that is not the point”, he said with downcast eyes as he strengthened his resolve for what seemed like one final hurdle he had to overcome.

“The point is I am a coward”, he said simply “and I have failed you as a result of it, instead of telling you of my actions I buried, then celebrated my affections for “her” whenever I visited these regions in the capacity of a company representative, and no she doesn’t not work for our company, she does in fact work for a similar one completely removed from what we do, as a result we kept getting sent to the same places over and over again, making our one-time acquaintance bloom into something we both came to cherish, this is not some call-girl in a major city, she is her own woman, her own force of nature given life, something you know is what attracted me to you since the very first day I met you. My only recourse is to make this as amicable a divorce as possible. Would you believe...” he said as he fished out something outside of the camera phone’s field of vision “that I have held onto this divorces papers almost as long as I’ve been with “her”, I’ve filled them out, I suggest you do too”. I’d rather not give Bashir more reason to hate me than he probably already does by having him give these to you as well, as I inform you. He has met “her” but I have asked that he not tell you her name or anything that might worry or worse haunt you because as a difficult as it is to hear, I don’t wish to cause any greater harm that I irrevocably have”, he said his tone honest, even disarming as he fully accepted his actions.

“Tell Hassan ... tell Hassan that his grandfather loves him, despite the fool he has made of himself this day and the pain he has caused his one and only grandmother, tell him he has nothing to fear about how he feels about this and neither do you, no amount of anger of disgust or pain you feel, none of it is trivial, I suggest you embrace it and learn to live with the idea of not having me in your lives as either grandfather or husband unless you make it your decision to feel comfortable with the decisions I have made, as terrible and heartbreaking as they seem and are right now. I don’t expect the pain will go away or the hatred that will surely follow will do so easily, only that you seek comfort in the fact that his is not your fault, only mine”, he said finally, as the video ended and Bashir retrieved his phone.

Fatima sat there in silence, the words replaying in her mind like a broken record. Divorce. Another woman. Betrayal. The room seemed to spin around her as she struggled to process it all. Bashir looked at her with a mix of pity and anger, his jaw clenched. “Fatima, I’m so sorry,” he said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I had no idea it had gone this far, or I would have told you sooner.”

What followed was the sincerest form of shock that had ever consumed Fatima. She sat there in silence, staring at the phone as if it were the face of the demon that had taken her husband from her. The room around her seemed to fade away as she was lost in the depths of her own thoughts, trying to piece together a reality that made any kind of sense. Her mind raced through the last twenty-nine years of their marriage, trying to find any hint, any shred of evidence that could have warned her of this heart-wrenching revelation. But there was nothing, just a sea of loving memories now tainted by the bitter sting of deceit. She had, had her doubts as to why he would insist on this monthly trips, but being a natural workaholic and loving husband she saw it as his chance to breathe in new horizons he rarely got to explore in his older years, the startling naivety of her thoughts as she looked back, haunted her even now, as she remembered countless nights of lovemaking where he’d been gentle but never forceful, in love but never brutal, never ravenous as Hassan had been. She knew now where that part of him had gone, where it rested dormant, ready to be stirred.

“Is she...”, Fatima began “is she “Safe” for lack of a better word, should I get tested before I do anything else”, she said almost sheepishly, as the words came with great difficulty to her in dealing with this situation but knowing she had start somewhere, recalling though no ill effects or doctor’s appointments over the years, where she’d been given her yearly checkups had revealing anything less than a clean bill of health, aside from the reminder that weight loss although difficult would help her in the long run, concerning her bodies health. Bashir was taken aback by the question but answered “He did out of concern for your health keep a sheathe tests results after every return trip, he believed it was best not to worry you with such things as they all came up negative, but suspected they would also help us trace back how far the relationship they both shared stemmed from, roughly two weeks back-tracking from when he took every test. He knew doctor, patient privilege would only get in the way”, he said as he fished the documents stored in his large sports jacket pocket, he often fished his phone out along with other things he normally kept there like notepads and such. They results were plentiful and stored within a typical transparent, A-4 sized plastic pocket for convenience.

Fatima looked at them as the utter and condemnable proof of his infidelity of the purest kind lay before her. Years of tests that would have told her the truth she’d never thought to question, she felt a sudden rage boil in her stomach and she wanted nothing more than to hurl it at her husband, to watch him burn with the same fire he had set to their marriage. But she remained silent, her eyes never leaving Bashir’s face, searching for any sign that this was a joke, a twisted play on words, something that could make it okay, but she found none. “From what I’ve seen ... and what I’ve heard “She” is not what you consider a typical “archetype” Fatima, what you would call a “man-stealing home wrecker” as it were, if anything she feels genuine regret this attraction ever happened and that he didn’t tell you sooner and if it helps, the honest impression I received from her is that she’s never done anything like this before and that also includes falling in love with someone, although to be perfectly honest I see the physical attraction but not why he chose to act on it, instead of remaining loyal to you. Seeing what he’s done, what he’s capable of doing in the form of this betrayal will probably give her second thoughts about trusting him in any real capacity and she should, if he could give up the one good thing in his life in the form of you Fatima as you would have otherwise gladly stuck by his side until his dying days, if not for this tragedy”, Bashir said sincerely trying to console her, almost as if the man she had known and love dearly for thirty years had died instead of betrayed her, the difference now seemed very small and unimportant.

“Thank you Bashir, for your honesty...” she began, understandably not know where to go from there as she girded herself against the onslaught of emotions that plagued without finality in sight.”If I was in your position and it was my Zara that had betrayed me I do not know what I would do with myself, surely I would blame my own oafish heart for not knowing why such a woman would love and appreciate me such as I am, embracing it as a welcome fact that she loves and appreciates me as I am, before it’s seemingly suddenly taken away from me like this”, he said indicating at his phone with disdain. “All I can hope is that whatever comfort I took in the company of family and friends was strength enough to guide me to better days, as difficult and as menacingly far away as they might be to find”, he said grasping her hand tightly in his, trying to convey a comfort she had never felt so lacking in her life.

They remained talking for hours until sunset led to evening, about anything and everything they could have done to foresee this, as pain led to tears and inevitably to anger, before acceptance of the reality she was facing began to firmly set in, and wash over Fatima with the new burden she had to shoulder, in telling her only grandson why they were both free to live this secret life they had developed over the course of the day and at the same time what it had invariably cost them through a series of events completely outside their control.

Bashir excused himself, kissing Fatima goodbye on the cheek a she hugged him back, his whispers in her ear telling her she was always welcome in his home to share the worst of her days before she found herself again and a new strength she could rely on greater than any adulterous husband. Once Bashir left, Hassan softly padded his way down the stairs leading up to their rooms. Fatima’s gaze shifted to his as she asked “How much did you hear?” with a tone that was a mix of dread and hope that she didn’t need to repeat what had just transpired. “Enough to know you need more than words to help you through this, and if you’ll allow me, grandmother, I’d like to be the one who soothes more than your soul, if you’ll let me Fatima, if not, I understand, you’ve had enough of your soul ripped away, I do not mean to imply I can mend it, only help you cope if I may”, he said earnestly, as he made his way down the stairs and up to her, taking her hands in his tentatively, as she looked at him with a gaze that was torn between hope and despair.

“Please, allow me to cherish you, grandmother as a wife should be beyond all doubt or reason so that you might yet find comfort in more than just simple words, but and affection we both know we share, despite how we came upon it. You are in no way guilty of any failing or slight in your love for grandfather, the only reason we have even embraced a love of our own is to cure a malady that has served to bring us closer, not further apart. I love you as a grandmother, now let me love you as a wife, as I follow the singing voice in my heart that tells me that if all you need from me to do is hold you and nothing more that will be more than I could ever ask for”, he said eyes filled with tears as raw emotion flooded through him like unspent river of love for her.

Fatima looked up at her grandson; the child she had watched grow into a man, the love of her life now standing before her with a love she never knew he was capable of feeling. In that moment she realized that perhaps, just perhaps, this was the universe’s strange way of granting her a second chance at happiness, at love, at feeling desired and appreciated beyond measure. Despite the weight of their secret, she felt warmth in her chest that she hadn’t felt in years. She nodded, giving him a soft smile. “Okay, my love,” she whispered, allowing him to lead her back to her room. At first they cuddled, allowing the combined warmth of their bodies to satisfy any immediate need for intimacy, as Fatima felt the first true comfort in hours, days, years.

For Hassan the feeling of her bodily warmth and closeness alone eventually drew his attention to his half-formed erection as he warned her “ignore “him” if you can, he’s done enough “damage” for one day, I believe we’ll sleep soundly tonight unless you have other ideas about it, my celebrated wife”, he said the sincerity in his voice along with his playful humor a fresh balm on her senses, as she reasoned with herself that maybe she could find solace in the arms of the man who’s love had been true even if it was wrapped in the cloak of scandal and familial betrayal. Despite herself she couldn’t help but feel attracted to the strong reaction he was exhibiting from just their simple embrace, as she took in the long length and head of not his fully formed hardness, she knew from experience could be a much more terrifying an experience that what the organ now eluded too, as she licked her lips, trying to make up her mind if she really wanted this, this closeness to be all they had if they were really to share each other’s completely.

“Hassan, if I was your wife, how would you celebrate me, if I was to accept you fully”, she said, trying to pick her words delicately so as not to offend or lead him on to what she expected him to say. Without a second thought to answer he simply said “I would get to know you, treat you like an equal partner, accept your faults and your gifts in equal measure, understand that your needs are equal to mine and ours as a couple should proceed as we develop and learn to cherish ourselves, despite the potential scandal it could cause for either of us. If we both decided it was too much to consider continuing, then I would encourage you to seek a balm for your nightly sleepwalking episodes, as I imagine they would only worsen, due to grandfathers permanent “departure” but I would support you in any decision you made for yourself and hope you would at least allow me to keep helping you as best I can to silence the demons you are currently shouldering by yourself, despite how much I know and love about you grandma, there are some things, some boundaries I know I can never cross emotionally and physically, despite our actions and our blurred familial bonds. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you how I look forwards to the days when I can freely celebrate a love with you that will follow me always in my life, my dreams and my memories until Allah permits we meet again in the next life, be it in his vision of heaven or maybe even with all the sinners down here in his second paradise”, he said joking at the end, watching as she looked at him with a look of consideration before nodding.

“Despite what’s happened today or maybe in light of it, I believe we will finally be able to share a life with each other maybe we were always meant to have, just not in the forms we currently share, maybe in the next life, next reincarnation, next “anything” we might get closer to this idealized vision of love we might yet be able to share now before it’s too late, what say you?”, he said as he looked into her eyes searching for doubt, hoping that she didn’t hold onto it.

Fatima took a deep breath, feeling the gravity of the decision she was about to make, but also feeling the excitement and hope that came with the possibility of a new life. “Let’s do it, let’s live our love as we see fit, as long as we keep it our secret, I want to know everything there is to know about you, and I want you to know everything there is about me, let’s start with a kiss, my love”, she whispered with a hint of excitement in her voice, as she leaned in closer to him, their eyes never leaving each other’s gaze.

“My love, you read my mind and my heart”, he said as he felt the familiar softness of her lips set his passion on fire, as he knew it also did hers. He thanked himself for the whole charade, up to and leading to this point, he’d practically blackmailed his grandfather into outing himself, roaming his laptop after every return trip, guessing his password as his grandmothers birthday, as an idle search at first led to the discovery of a more than voluptuous twenty-something year old he recorded as both photos and video on his phone, passing it to his personal computer secreted at home, so that he might never scandalize himself by leaving it unattended on say his phone for example, for any reason and having his wife or probably worse him, finding all this incriminating footage to damn himself with. After that it became a mere matter of time and place, having instructed him to roughly around the time Fatima and he and decided to take a quick shower and redress any spent bed sheets, to make him act on his personal betrayal as an anonymous figure emailing him from what he supposed was his own exploited personal laptop at home, as a way to disguise his actions, suspecting neither his grandson or wife knew about his infidelities, with the care he had shown to keep it hushed up.

Bashir he knew would be the obvious choice as the local representative of his grandparents branch of the company, having it raised it with him, early on in their thirties and even now were still active, just less so, in the day-to-day operations, hence the odd choice to remain as an active foreign representative for so long in his fathers case, which was usually a duty taken over by lower management and even junior partners as a way of demonstrating the salesman skills required to acquire, nurture and compound new and existing business relationships, as a proving ground for potential promotion amongst the rank and file. His grandfather ever the charismatic personality had raised no qualms with anyone about taking on this post, knowing one of his greatest strengths was reliant on him being able to meet people face to face, as he was known to be able to suss out new and even unexpected business partners, suppliers and general clients to their brand, given the opportunity and time to make them come over to his point of view, with a more pure and honest approach, allot of technology these days seemed to disconnect people from and in turn overlook new and potentially beneficial outcomes from such mutual relationships as those he’d formed in his past to raise the company and those he’d done so with only comparatively recently with great success.

As a result Hassan had played it perfectly, preying on his grandfathers Achilles heel, his wife, as she even now unbuttoned his pants, as he slid his shirt off. She was tenuous about committing such an act at first, seeing it as a violation of a marriage, no matter how far gone it seemed now, with her recent revelation, but quickly sobered up to the reality that the young boy turning into a man before her very eyes, was the only one in this world and maybe the next one who could appreciate her for more than just her body and her will and her mind, but for her flaws and frailties as well as her strengths and values. “Hassan, I want you to go steady, I need you to be ... gentle with me until I know once and for all that this is right for us. Can you do that”, she said as she slowly leaned over him, her hips meeting his, but not allowing him to penetrate her until she was ready. “For you my love”, he began as he planted a soft chaste kiss on her lower lip “the moon the and the stars would be a small price to pay for your tranquility but that I could give them to you, to wear as simply as one does a bracelet or even a crown to declare your love for me and how you care enough to let me know what you need and when you need it, instead of acting impulsively, as I’m afraid I’ve been all this time”, he said with slight regret at the end.

Fatima’s eyes searched his, finding a depth of care she had never seen before. Slowly, she nodded, granting him the permission to make love to her in a way that she had never allowed anyone else but her own husband. Their kiss deepened as their bodies pressed together, their hearts racing with anticipation. The sound of their breaths mingling filled the quiet room, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions swirling within them. He was gentle, true to his word, letting her set the pace of their lovemaking, as Fatima took full control over their actions, betraying none of the passion that had fueled their secret encounters thus far.

Her body glowed a warm, pleasant amber in the pale moonlight, her hijab and traditional robes were discarded neatly on the floor, allowing her to put her body on full display before him, as he reached out and grabbed her voluminous breasts in either hands, squeezing lightly, as she responded to his touch by letting out a soft gasp, as she slowly raised her hips to accept the head of his massive cock inside her, it’s almost fully bloated form, waiting for it’s one and only sincere partner who could bring it to full hardness, as she hesitated for a second, Hassan noticing this as he simply sat up and hugged her to him, whispering in her ear “it’s okay”, shushing her as he heard the first tears of raw emotion start to flow from her eyes and down her cheeks, feeling the warmth of them roll down his back, as she leaned into his neck, her legs wrapping around his waist “your unsure and you have every right to be, we can just hold each other until dawn if you think it’ll help us get closer and you to a better place than where you were at the end of this terrible day. I’m listening Fatima, speak to me and I’ll do my best to support you”, he said sincerely. “Nothing more, nothing less”, he added for good measure, as she nodded her head against his neck, her arms tightening around his back, feeling warmth of his body penetrate hers as they both huddled, Hassan dragging the sheets over them as they coupled their warmth and they held each other tightly, as he held her honestly as the only other human being on this planet that mattered a damn to him in this moment, and he told her so, watching as her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into his embrace, her breathing evening out as she slowly calmed herself down.

“May I as a sign of my love for you give you a nickname as most couples do for each other over time?”, he asked tentatively, hoping she wouldn’t think him too forward or strange. Fatima, feeling a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the blanket they were sharing, nodded. “I’d like that,” she murmured. “Be aware despite the ... intensity of my lovemaking I am a hopeless romantic at heart and you Fatima my love, have only exacerbated this effect”, he said with a smile she couldn’t help but return. “How about Azizati, if you’ll humor me with a translation just so I can hear you speak the words, I’ll forever share with you in our sweetest moments”, he said taking her hand and kissing it, his eyes never leaving hers, as she felt the warmth of his love spreading through her.

“Azizati means my dearest, my sweetest love”, she whispered, her voice catching in her throat as she felt the weight of his gaze on her, his cock pressing against her belly as he held her tight. “It’s perfect but not as perfect as you”, he whispered “if you’ll allow me to be so bold” he said with a sweet smile of his lips and look of longing in his eyes, she knew was a sign that he was ready for more. But she needed to be sure, she needed this moment to be perfect, she needed him to be perfect for her.

They laid there for a while, just holding each other, their bodies fitting together in a way that felt like it was always meant to be. His hands exploring the curves of her body, his touch gentle and reassuring, as she began to relax and allow herself to be loved by him. “I’m ready,” she whispered into his neck, feeling the heat of his body and the strength in his arms. “As you wish, my Azizati,” he murmured back, his voice filled with a tenderness that she knew would fill her days and her nights, as he said “would you do me the honors of allowing me to grace your body once more by your own hand? I believe I’ve become almost old fashioned in that sense, hoping in every other that you’ll indulge me with the knowledge that this is your body, your decision and I’m to share it with you and vice versa”, he said, his gentle need to be absolutely sure this was not just what she wanted but what she needed, made her feel like the most treasured woman on the planet.