Our Stormy Ride

*41 °The Aftermath

Nadia

The thundering storm raging outside remains mute to my ears, outdone by the wild beating of my heart, and the threatening words Jamal had spoken in anger before leaving.

What have I done? The thought keeps on chipping away at my emotions till I'm left feeling guilty, regretful and empty on the inside. The cold seeping through the bare tiles to my skin numbs my senses even further, leaving me in a daze.

I suddenly wish I could take back my words, those meaningless words that could ruin everything we've managed to build so far. I run a shaky hand over my face, wondering how I could have put my marriage at risk by allowing fear override my sense of reason and faith in Jamal. And by the look on his face when he'd walked out, I can't suppress the cold wave of fear that grips me, filling my head with scary thoughts of a broken marriage.

I scramble for my phone, deleting the pictures as quickly as I can, and blocking the number as well. Whoever had sent those pictures had only laid a trap, yet I'm the one who'd blindly fallen into it without listening to the full story of what had happened, and the impact of my actions cuts a hole in my heart, jolting me awake.

I'd ignored his plea to understand, when he shouldn't have had to ask in the first place. My faith and trust in him should have been enough to quell any other feeling those pictures must have created. Instead of giving him a chance to explain himself, I'd made him doubt the extent of my love for him by doing the complete opposite, and making assumptions I never should have.

"Or what do you think Nadia Ali, plan on breaking my heart anytime soon?"

I still recall when he'd asked me that during Ramadan, but never did I think it'd come to pass. My eyes begin to mist as I dial his number, praying fervently he picks up even though a part of me mocks my feeble attempt at trying to make things right. Instead of his voice, the clipped tone of the network company's computerised attendant relays his number being currently switched off.

With the rain gradually turning into a heavy storm, my mind sets off into a panicked state not knowing where Jamal is. I keep on dialling his number, only to be met with the same response repeatedly. I get tempted to call his parents' place thinking he might be there, but then decide against it after taking note of the time.  Calling at 3am in the dead of the night wouldn't be appropriate, and they'd definitely know that something's wrong.
Where could he be?

Like a light bulb going off suddenly, an idea occurs to me of his whereabouts, so I grab my keys and step out of the house, braving the onslaught of the freezing rain and wind. With every loud crack of lightening, and boom of thunder, my heart slams against my rib cage with fear; my vision blurred by the unfaltering sheets of rain as it hits the windshield like tiny pebbles.
Driving in a storm has always been a biggest fear of mine, and also a situation I avoid at all costs for myself and family. I'd rather wait it out than risk being on the slick road prone to accidents.

I pray to Allah to let me get there safely, and try to repair the damage I've caused. The guilt eating away at my heart makes me feel undeserving of His forgiveness, a reminder of the wrong I've committed.

The speed of the wind picks up as I get closer, it's loud howl mixing with the thundering storm to create a cacophony as it drowns out every other noise. Relief washes over me as the beam from the headlights shines over the trunk of Jamal's car, and a sigh of Alhamdulilah leaves my lips; a little load lifted off my shoulder from being reassured of his safety.

I look towards the beach house upon stepping down, searching for any sign of him being inside, but the lightless rooms reveal nothing, and the locked front door urges me to walk further around the house. The sound of the crashing waves pull me towards the shore, and now that the storm is at its peak, the waves are coming in higher and faster, their force strong enough to knock someone off their feet.