Beyond the game

Azra's phone buzzed incessantly as she sat at her desk, studying. The steady hum of the late evening in her apartment felt strangely calm. With exams behind her, she finally had time to breathe, but something inside her—something unfamiliar—was restless. Her fingers hovered over her phone, the screen illuminating her face in the dim light.

She glanced at the messages from Rahma, who had been texting her all evening. After a quick reply, she scrolled through the list of notifications, and then her thumb hesitated, falling on Yuzarsif's name.

The past few days had been a strange whirlwind. After that fateful encounter in the orphanage, Yuzarsif had been on her mind more often than she cared to admit. She hadn't expected to hear from him again after she'd turned down his offer. Yet, he had sent a message a few days later, reminding her of his offer to help her with her career, to get her a job at his family's hospital. She had politely declined, of course. Azra wasn't someone who relied on connections.

But it wasn't just the career aspect that lingered in her thoughts. There was something else—something about the way Yuzarsif looked at her, with a quiet intensity she couldn't quite decipher. And yet, she knew, deep down, that she wasn't supposed to feel this way.

You're just being polite, Azra. Don't make it more than it is.

With a sigh, she dropped the phone back onto her desk, pushing the thought aside. Rahma was right. She had a life to focus on—her studies, her volunteer work, her independence. She didn't have time to entertain distractions.

But as the night wore on, and the world outside her apartment grew quieter, the hum of her phone interrupted her thoughts again.

This time, it wasn't a text from Rahma, but a call. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the name flash on the screen—Yuzarsif.

With a steadying breath, Azra picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Azra, it's Yuzarsif." His voice, smooth as ever, carried through the line. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"No," she replied, her voice guarded. "It's fine. What's up?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to join me for dinner tomorrow," he asked, his tone casual but laced with something deeper, something that she couldn't quite place.

Azra hesitated, the urge to decline bubbling up inside her. She'd already turned him down once, but this—this felt different. It wasn't just a casual dinner. She could feel it in the way he spoke.

"I appreciate the offer," she began, "but I don't think it's a good idea. I—"

He interrupted her before she could finish. "Azra, I'm not asking for anything more than a simple dinner. Nothing formal, just food and conversation. No strings attached."

There was a pause on the other end, and she could hear the faint sound of traffic in the background, as if he were pacing. "I just want to get to know you better. And besides…" His voice softened, "I don't take no for an answer."

Azra felt a flicker of something—frustration, maybe, or intrigue. She wasn't sure. But the audacity in his words, the persistence, made her heart race in a way she didn't want to admit.

"Yuzarsif," she began, her voice firm, "I'm not interested in—"

"I'll make it simple," he interrupted again, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. "How about a yes, and we'll see where it goes?"

Azra stood up, pacing her small apartment, her heart beating faster. She didn't want to say yes. She didn't want to get involved with someone like him. He was persistent, confident, perhaps even a little arrogant—but that didn't change the fact that he was so damn attractive. She could feel herself wavering, caught between her desire to remain aloof and the undeniable pull he had on her.

"Alright," she said, before she could talk herself out of it. "One dinner."

Yuzarsif's voice brightened instantly. "Great! Tomorrow, then. I'll pick you up at seven?"

Azra, now suddenly self-conscious, glanced around her apartment. It was a simple space—nothing fancy, nothing extravagant. She didn't know what to expect from a dinner with someone like him. But she figured that she'd keep it short. She could handle this. It was just one dinner.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she replied, before hanging up.

Azra took a deep breath, staring at the phone in her hand. What had she just agreed to? She couldn't believe she'd actually said yes. But it was done now, and she couldn't back out.

As she walked to the kitchen to grab a drink, Rahma's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"So, you finally said yes?" she said with a mischievous grin.

Azra rolled her eyes. "Don't even start. It's just dinner."

Rahma raised an eyebrow, her expression teasing. "Sure. Just dinner. But you're not fooling me, Azra. I can tell when something's brewing. This could be the start of something—something good."

Azra laughed, trying to brush it off. "You're reading too much into it."

But deep down, Azra knew that her friend wasn't entirely wrong. Something was stirring inside her—something she wasn't quite ready to admit yet.

The next day came faster than Azra anticipated. She spent the morning volunteering at the orphanage, helping the children with their schoolwork. It was a routine she enjoyed, one that kept her grounded and reminded her of her roots. But in the back of her mind, she couldn't stop thinking about the dinner that evening.

She had chosen a simple outfit—a white blouse, dark jeans, and flats. Nothing too fancy. It was just dinner, after all. But the moment she stepped out of her apartment and saw Yuzarsif waiting for her outside, she felt a twinge of unease.

He looked effortlessly handsome in a well-tailored suit, his dark hair styled just right. His eyes locked onto hers the moment she appeared, and there was no mistaking the way he looked at her—like she was the only person in the world.

"You look beautiful," he said, his voice low and sincere.

Azra felt a blush creeping up her neck, but she quickly masked it with a neutral expression. "Thank you," she said curtly, before walking toward the car.

As they drove to the restaurant, Azra couldn't help but notice how natural the conversation felt. They talked about small things—her life at the orphanage, his work with the family business, and the city they both lived in. It was easy to talk to him, which surprised her. She didn't expect it to be this… comfortable.

When they reached the restaurant, it was an upscale place, quiet and intimate, the kind of place people came to for private meetings or special occasions. Yuzarsif led her inside, pulling out her chair before sitting across from her.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I ordered for both of us," he said, his eyes gleaming with that same intense focus she'd seen before.

Azra nodded, grateful for the simplicity of it. She didn't like to make decisions in places like this—where everything seemed so polished and perfect. But there was a part of her that couldn't deny the luxury of it all.

"I hope you don't mind," Yuzarsif continued. "I just wanted this evening to be perfect."

Azra smiled softly, her defenses starting to lower. But she knew she couldn't let her guard down completely. Not yet.

As they ate and talked, the evening stretched on, and Azra found herself enjoying his company more than she expected. His charm, his wit, and his subtle persistence all worked in tandem to break down the walls she'd so carefully built around herself.

But in the back of her mind, one thing kept echoing.

What's his real reason for being here?

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