The Flying Dreams

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

The dawn had lingered, not appearing to wipe its red hues off the sky and yet the orange glow of sun gleamed through the window and by the end of the song, half the corner of Shifa's living room was illuminated in orange while the other half remained in a dark tint of blue. I understood the need to cling, the fear of fading away from the only constant in your life but even the sticking took courage which, I had quite shamelessly admitted to myself long ago— I didn't possess. That was something I had never given a mere thought, clawing on my whole existence with its giant nails digging into my skin as I watched Shifa pick up the cups from the table and went back to the kitchen to reheat the tea. Upon her return, instead of taking her previous place on the sofa, she slouched on the floor and my heart delighted at the closeness of her warmth. I tried to hide my pleased expression behind the teacup. Sure, another person of my stature could easily fit in the space between us but at least I didn't have to crane my neck to look at her and be reminded of her position with the unknown girl. Although, I found myself a little perplexed at how she hadn't brought up the matter. Wasn't she afraid I would tell her cousin? I would absolutely not but still, not even a little fear? I would have killed myself if our roles were reversed. 

I heard her humming an unfamiliar tone and without a restraint asked her what always ran through my mind whenever her phone rang.

"What's the song in your ringtone?"

She shrugged, holding the cup in one hand and her phone in the other, "I don't know. I heard it on Instagram and thought it sounded cool."

Of course.

I centred my attention on the cup, clasped between my palms and its comforting warmth. I had assumed the time would pass in silence since she was too engrossed on her phone and I didn't know what to say but two sips later, the silence was yet again filled with the soft music. And Shifa's voice even softer, almost a whisper, "Can I ask you something?"

Turning my neck to face her, I nodded. A veil of hesitation fell on her face, and I heard her take a deep breath before she detached her eyes from the window and fixated them on me.

"Do you not love Wahab?"

I wondered if there happen to be a problem in her brain or were she really that stupid? However, I didn't have to think about the answer, the words rested on the tip of my tongue, easy and smooth. I did love Wahab. Not untrue but she hadn't asked me if I loved him as I should as his future wife, which I was sure I never could. I feared that my love for Wahab was selfish— I felt indebted to him for wishing the best for me and sending me here to fulfil my dream and he didn't even try to appease my mother, who put forth a strong argument about sending a girl to another city alone. Who didn't want me to study at all, sometimes it seemed. I will forever be grateful to him and surely, love could be born out of it. The two words didn't have much difference, after all. My own mother's stories of falling in love after being wedded to abbu hardly sounded plausible but whenever she brought them up to compare how arranged marriage was the best way to go. Love after marriage lasts forever. And it remains strong. It stays with you. I would not be opposed to having a happy, long life with Wahab. If given a choice, I would, without a doubt, choose him. If I were to marry someone, it had to be Wahab. A man whom my parents adored more than me, who didn't listen to the relatives and will allow me to study and who never failed to defend my side even when I wasn't there. But above all—a man.

"I do."

I hadn't looked at her, but the tone of her voice shifted, more forced and less familiar, "Yes. Of course. Good. You should."

I huffed a small laugh. Shifa was anything but subtle. And in desperate need of something else to crowd my mind, I turned to her and watched her as she took a small sip. She slowed the movement of her hand mid-air upon sensing my stare on her and tilted her head, raising her brows at me in question when she guessed I was not going to stop. I raised my cup, half hiding my face in hopes that I would cover my ears. They were definitely flaming red.

"Why did you ask? He is going to be my husband soon."

Shifa snorted and shook her head and I breathed out a laugh, too but no reply came as expected. The sun was completely up and the weather inside the living room had gotten just a little warmer and yet, we both stayed on the floor, and I listened to her talk about so many things that I usually would have lost interest had it been someone else since I was so used to be the one doing the talking, but my attention didn't waver and I hung up on every word she uttered. They were all small details but nonetheless, I basked in the moment of her walls coming down for a little while. I was certain that she wasn't really aware of it by the way she always appeared surprised whenever I asked something about her, no matter how small but her guards were higher than I could climb. And a little attention deprived if I had done my research right.

We talked and sometimes just hummed along with the song till Shifa's alarm rang at 6 AM and we had to get moving. For the second time since I had arrived, Shifa insisted we have tea at the street vendor and said goodbyes at the metro station. She walked to her college claiming it was not far and she preferred walking, and I realized that I had still no idea what her career aspiration was. The last time I asked, she had diverted the topic, but I wanted to know. I needed to know more about her and when I really came to think of the matter, the truth sat stark clear—I had no idea what made her who she was.

Why did she choose to cut her hair short despite her mother's disapproval? Why did she not wish to wear a hijab or why she never prayed. I didn't know anything about her other than her name and her family members. And obviously that she was attracted to girls. A fact that still managed to make me a bit unsettled and as soon as I felt the slight tremble in my spine, I realized why I still didn't understand Shifa. I was not yet ready to know all of her and in some strange way, I thought she knew my uncertainty and did me a great favour by not telling me things that would surely put me at odds with her. I had thought that I had accepted her feelings and mine, too but just one jab broke down my delusion.

The rest of the ride to campus, she remained in my mind, not for the first time but for a different reason.