Rafiq laughed.
How ridiculous was that?
“Hardly. Aziza is not my type—“
Hassan looked at him as if he suddenly had two heads.
“What do you mean, she’s not your type? Rafiq, they literally photographed you kissing her.” He muttered, “Who knows what else happened off camera?” Then snuck a side glaze at Rafiq’s face, who’d adopted a dazed, far off look in his eyes.
“OH!” Hassan exclaimed. But his brother cut him off with the sharp raise of his hand.
“Whatever it is, save it! The point is, she’s complicated and I don’t indulge complicated.”
“Yes, except desire and attraction ignore any of that. Then all those emotions grow into ‘the forbidden word’. You should consider yourself lucky, brother. You have a beautiful and intelligent wife.” Hassan patted his brother’s shoulder.
Rafiq sighed.
“If it is love you speak of Hassan, you are imagining things. I vowed to never make that mistake again and I live by my promises.”
“Forget about Izbah—“