031 Hidden Silent Riddles of Entangled Emotions

Meeting someone is a coincidence, but meeting repeatedly must be fate.

Musa looked vastly different today. Having shed his traditional white robe for a simple white shirt and jeans, his tall, slender frame was all the more striking. Even amidst the bustling crowd, he possessed an air of distinction. It was the same face—the clear eyes, the curled lashes—yet he seemed much more haggard. The sustained fasting must have been incredibly taxing, leaving his already sharp features even more gaunt.

After a silence of half a month, seeing him again still made my heart race. A joyful flutter tumbled through my complex web of thoughts, scattering like petals in the wind.

He was not wearing his robe. Not at all.

I nearly wept at the realization, as if layer upon layer of barriers had been stripped away. He had come to the bar just like the countless others seeking amusement, unburdened by those elaborate formalities.

I sat motionless. I saw him, and I knew he saw me. But at the very moment our gazes met, his typically serene expression faltered, and he quickly looked away.

I lowered my head.

After such a long time apart, he did not even wish to look at me. I could not tell if I felt lost or sorrowful.

The hesitant attachment I had followed step by step, the feelings I had kept light to avoid burdening him—all vanished into a hollow, illusory dream the instant our eyes locked.

"Eve, you're here too!"

I forced a smile, deliberately avoiding Musa’s gaze, and replied lightly, "Yes."

"Alone?" He pulled Musa over to sit across from me.

"No, I came with friends." I gestured toward the dance floor, where Lianpian’s waist was held by Bill’s arm, the two of them whispering closely as they danced.

Ayoub nodded in understanding. He was not repulsed by the sight of intimate contact, though he did not show approval either, simply remarking, "It’s a pity to be neglected by your friends."

I smiled helplessly and replied offhandedly, "I’ve had bad luck lately; I’m often neglected, so I’m almost used to it."

I had spoken without thinking, only realizing after the words left my lips that they might have carried a double meaning. Musa, who had been silent the whole time, stiffened, then suddenly murmured a single word: "No."

"Hm?" Both Ayoub and I turned to him.

What was he denying? Was he denying my bad luck, or… denying the fact that I was being neglected?

Either form of "denial" seemed better than being treated like a stranger, though perhaps being treated like a stranger was the best choice after all.

Facing our expectant gazes, Musa hesitated for two seconds before speaking in a somewhat disjointed manner, "I meant… there must be a reason for the neglect. Your friends surely don't want to leave you here by yourself."

As he spoke, his deep gaze seemed to peer into the very depths of my soul.

Whether I was overthinking it or there was truly a hidden intent, I caught a scent of apology and helplessness in Musa’s words. Was he trying to tell me that he didn't truly mean to treat me with such hot and cold behavior? But what good would that do? If he truly meant it, then his avoidance stemmed from some hidden hardship; if I were overthinking it, then there was no need to pursue the matter further.

The furrowed, troubled lines on my brow began to soften. I smiled at Musa and said, as if it were of no consequence, "I know."

There was a sense of a hidden riddle in the air; it turned out that even Middle Eastern men could be this conflicted.