Like Chai for Chocolate

Mishari was always so stubborn with his ways.
'He's so difficult! Mashallah 3alaih, rasa shino yabis!' his wife Nuwair would think to herself while clearing off the dinner table.
It was hard being a newly-wed wife. For Nuwair, it was harder being married to Mishari. Even though they married after a wild love affair of two years, it seemed as if all things between them related to romance had just about died since their marriage certificate was sealed. Some reminders of this included the half-full plate of food that she had prepared especially for him - she had slaved in the tiny kitchen of their apartment for at least two hours, baking the chicken lasagna that she had prided herself so much in learning. All Mishari could do was fork his food around the plate to make it seem like he had eaten, and made some quick excuse that he had to meet the guys at the diwaniya for the final football match between God-knows-who.
He hadn't even thanked her for the dinner.
"Mita bitrid?" Nuwair tentatively approached their bedroom, where Mishari was pulling his creamy white dishdasha over his head.
"Madri, laish?" Mishari replied flatly.
"Kint bag3ad wiyak shway..," she spoke softly and suggestively. Nuwair had recently gone on a shopping expedition dedicated entirely to lingerie - classy, flirty, downright sexy; she had bought every piece she liked without hesitation, and couldn't wait to try them on for Mishari.
"Yimkin at2a5ar," Mishari added quietly, feeling a pinch of remorse at leaving his wife at home alone. "A7awil arid imbachir. Ok?" he asked, walking towards her.
Nuwair nodded quickly and he kissed her head, grabbing his wallet and keys on the way out.

The next couple of hours were spent primping and preparing for a night of seduction. Nuwair was sure that Mishari understood her subtle hint, and that he would really try to make it home as soon as possible. She curled her hair into bouncy luscious tresses, and teased it to maintain it's puff. She even went as far as applying make-up, something she'd never do for a night of intimacy. Nuwair stood bare in front of her closet, greeted by the array of colored lace, chiffon, dantelle, and ruffles.
"Which one of you will I be wearing tonight?" she spoke aloud happily to her lingerie collection. She sorted through the hangers with her perfectly manicured fingers, and finally settled for a baby pink dantelle teddy.
The lace on the sides of the teddy hugged her caramel curves, and Nuwair tied each end into a neat satiny bow.
After a few persistent text messages to Mishari, he finally told her he'd leave the diwaniya and come home to be with her. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she drew a warm bath for the both of them, sprinkling in a handful of scented bath salt and watching it fizz and bubble. There was nothing left for Nuwair to do but wait. And wait she did.

She waited for what seemed like forever, trying not to lay down too much on her curled hair, in fear of flattening it into a teased mess. But she couldn't help her exhaustion, and the fact that she had clumped make-up on her eyelids made her even more sleepy. Giving in after realizing that Mishari wasn't coming home anytime soon, Nuwair fell asleep in her pink teddy, her curled mane, and her delicately made-up face.

An hour after Nuwair had fallen asleep, Mishari creaked the door of their bedroom open only to find his wife sleeping, beautiful, sad and alone. His heart winced at how she could allow herself to sleep before her husband was home, but when he saw the lit candles in the bathroom, surrounding the now cold aromatic bath, a thick wave of guilt swept over Mishari. He made his way over to their bed, where Nuwair was sleeping soundly. He felt a surge of excitement at the sight of her sexy lingerie, and the longer he stared, the stronger it became. But he knew it would be absolutely selfish to wake her and ensue what she had started. After all, it was his fault he was late.

So Mishari blew out the candles and drained the bath, turned off the dimmed lights and crawled into bed, snuggling next to Nuwair as if to make up for his negligence. Anyone walking into the room at that moment would had envied the perfect picture they created, but only a fly on the wall would know what really went on. The reality gutted Nuwair with gloom at times, and even in her sleep it scared her that she couldn't keep up with the battle with holy matrimony.
But in her sleep, she smiled, feeling Mishari's soft breath near the curve of her neck.
There was always another day, and always more lingerie.