An Eid With The Prince [Editing]

[1] PROLOGUE

"You're not eating takeout, but a frozen one," Zarah said with a smug smile before she brought out two Chinese food from the deep freezer. "Bon appetit."

"But ummi, you said. Forget it! " Safeenah whined angrily as she strap opened the frozen noodles. "At Least let it have a microwave," Safeenah suggested with an irritated facial expression.

"No, the repairman said it cost a lot, and I'm off budget," Zarah declined as continued with her work, "—don't you know, frozen noodles are the best." Zarah added.

"Since when have we bought these," Safeenah asked, pointing at the frozen food.

"Last week?" Zarah replied.

"Yuk!" Safeenah dramatically expressed, rushing to the toilet to throw up.

"Will you need a tissue darling?" Zarah called from the living room.

"No. I'm good."

The ringing of Zarah's phone made her stopped cleaning for a moment. She walked to where she'd deliberately flung her phone, wiped the dust that had scattered on the phone. Her brows furrowed as she sighted it was an unknown number.

Hesitantly, she accepted the call, "Assalamualaikum," she spoke, waiting for the caller to reply.

"Wa'alaikum salaam Fateemah."  The caller said back, their voice was static, like it was going to break at any moment — Zarah figured the reception was bad. She was also unsettled by what she was being called, only her highschool friends call her Fateemah: and they're all separated by the cruel limbs of life.

"Zarah," the caller corrected, "it's been a while since we spoke, kayf haluk?"

"Alhamdulilah, who's this?"

"Sorry. I forgot you don't have this number, it's Mustaqeem?" The caller introduced, voice breaking.

"Mustaqeem? Subhanallah, how've you been? Pardon me, I didn't know it was you, the reception made your voice older," Zarah said, snorting at her bad sense of humor. "How's your wife?" She inquired.

"We're all fine, I'm currently not in Dubai, I'm in Qatar, we went to pay Baba and Mama homage, how are things there?"

"Alhamdulilah," Zarah simply stated, "I guess," she ended with an anguished sigh. Things weren't going great and she knows it: but all she could do was send some gratification to Allah, being alive was a blessing and even gaining the custody of her daughter as well.  "I'm sorry I didn't call,"

"No worries yalla, so... how's Safeenah?"

"She's fine." Zarah answered, wiggling the broom she  was supposed to clean with.

"Who's that, ummi!" Safeenah yelled from the washroom.

"It's uncle Mustaqeem, Habibi." He heard Safeenah's voice over the call, "listen Zarah, I've got good news and bad news."

Zarah's heart pounded, her life was bad news through and through, yet she dreaded the one her highschool friend was about to unleash upon her. "What.. is that?" She said, worriedly. She took a seat for the news.

"The bad news is, Mimi died... So sad."

Sarah released a sigh of relieve, "I swear by Allah you're a crazy person, I thought something happened. Your gold fish died and you're calling that bad news? Rich people are so unbelievable."

"Yeah. Yeah. The good new is, I got you a job at the palace in Dubai." Mustaqeem spoke, Zarah couldn't believe her ears and she froze, hearing the word palace somewhat made her fantasies about making it in life someday breath, her heart raced at Mustaqeem's word. "You're welcome." He added, bringing Zarah out of her thought.

"Oh my bad, Shukra Mustie, I can't believe you did that for me." Zarah nearly jumped up, "wait, hope it's not a cleaner's job?" She inquired.

"It's not, the classy Zarah can't get filth in her fingers." Mustaqeem joked, making both of them chuckle, "seems like your French bachelor's degree is useful after all."

"What do you mean, it has been always useful," Zarah nagged with a tut.

Mustaqeem scoffed rhythmically, "you and your ego. Well listen; the crown prince is in need of a French translator, and the Sheik wants the best person for his son, so you came to my mind."

"Subhanallah, the Prince. You mean the Prince Abubakar? I'm so happy right now, thank you so much Mustaqeem!" Zarah exclaimed as she picked Safeenah up as she walked out of restroom.

"Yes him, I have already arranged everything, the job is yours."

"Mustaqeem, you're a live safer, y'know. Thank you."  Zarah said, gratefully.

"Uthman will come pick you up." Mustaqeem added.

"What, Uthman Abu-Zayd?" Zarah inquired, "wait, not him." She whined, nibbling on her lower lip.

"—Yeah, your highschool admirer," He replied and his voice broke totally, a screeching feedback bursted out of the phone's mouthpiece, the reception went off totally.

"Hello, Salaam? Mustaqeem, don't you dare?" Zarah yelled frantically. The vexation that Uthman's name brought to her wasn't as much as the happiness the new job Mustaqeem had gotten her ignited inside her. At that moment she felt bittersweet, working with Uthman Abu-Zayd, sure will woke up old memories and feelings; she had to do it after all — for her daughter at least.

"Mum, what's the good news, are we cooking?" Safeenah teased, turning on the old model LG tv, the tv illuminated the room, showing a replaying Arabian fashion show.

"We are meeting the Prince of Dubai!"

"No way!" Safeenah exclaimed,

"Yes way!" Zarah said, tangoing with the broom in her hand. Her tango was cut abruptly by the chiming of her smartphone. It was a notification from Mustaqeem. She clicked on the message bubble that was floating on the screen of her phone.

Unknown: The reception here is bad, I can only send you SMS. Don't nag about Uthman, just find a way to work with him... Without fighting him (lol). Tbh, I had no idea it was him.

He is picking you up next week, get yourself ready, you're meeting the Prince!!

As she read the text message, she stared at the ceiling, raising her hand up. "Mother look at your daughter, she is going to see the Prince. You always say studying French is a mistake, seems like you're wrong, I'm going places by Allah's will." She yelled loudly at the ceiling covered with cobwebs. Safeenah hugged her mother from behind, pressing her small face inside her skirt.

"I'm happy for you ummi. You're the best."

Zarah crouched down to Safeenah's level, "you're the best daughter, you're Allah's blessing to me, my perfect Safeenah." She kissed her daughter's forehead deeply.

If she was grateful for one thing, it would be for the gift of motherhood — Safeenah was a blessing from above.