As planned, Hasan arrived at Anisa's residence at around 8:00 PM. He had fought the urge to drink heavily earlier, limiting himself to a single can of beer to maintain a veneer of control. When he rang the bell, Anisa answered, dressed in a light blue baby-doll nightgown. He entered at her invitation and took a seat on the living room sofa, the image of her with Yugh flashing relentlessly behind his eyes. He struggled to maintain his composure. š
"Hasan, what have you been drinking?" she asked, noticing a faint scent.
"Ah... just coffee," he lied out of habit. She soon brewed him a cup and placed it on the table before him. āļø
"Hasan, why did you need to see me so urgently?" she inquired, her tone light, still unaware of the storm about to break.
"Don't you like me?" he asked abruptly, his voice edged. š¤Ø
"Why would you ask that so suddenly? Is there a reason I shouldn't?" she replied, confusion clouding her features.
His control snapped. Deciding this issue had to be settled, he moved with startling speed, closing the distance between them and pushing her down onto the sofa, his body looming over hers. š
"Hasan, what are you doing? Please stop this. Why are you looking at me like that?" she demanded, her voice trembling as she tried to push against him.
He said nothing, merely lowering his face towards hers. When he tried to kiss her, she turned her head and shoved him away with surprising force. š
"Hasan, stop this! I am not your wife yet!" she cried, scrambling off the sofa and standing firm, her voice now sharp with defiance.
He stood as well, grabbing her and pulling her close, his grip tightening painfully around her left wrist. Tears sprang to Anisa's eyes from the shock and pain. "Please, Hasan, why are you doing this?" š„²
"Why don't you want me near you? You seemed perfectly happy getting close to others," he spat, his voice laced with venom.
"AhāHasan, let go of my hand, you're hurting me! I don't understand what you're talking about!" she pleaded, struggling against his iron grip.
"Don't understand? What a pathetic joke! Look! Is this not you on top of another man?" he snarled, shoving his phone in her face, displaying the incriminating photo. š”
"Where... where did you get this? You have the wrong idea!" she stammered, her words tumbling over each other.
"Where I got it doesn't matter! Listen carefully, Anisa, I don't want to hurt you. But I cannot stand being deceived," he said, his voice dropping into a dangerously calm tone as he finally released her wrist. He was already shifting from aggressor to the wounded party. š£
Anisa tried to explain the context; the fall, the rescue, but Hasan was in no state to listen. He wasn't seeking the truth; he was enforcing a narrative. Without another word, without even touching the coffee, he turned and stormed out of her apartment.
Left alone, Anisa cradled her throbbing, reddened wrist. The physical pain was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the deep, bewildering ache in her heart. "Why wouldn't he even listen to a word I said?" she thought, a profound sense of injustice and hurt settling over her. The man she thought she knew had just shown her a chilling glimpse of a stranger. šŖ