Tale In The Red Sand

Chapter Twenty - seven

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Hibaaq sat uncomfortably straight on the couch, facing her once dream come true turned worst nightmare. She clasped the material of her summer dress, holding it so tight she could feel her nails digging into her thighs. Her eyes repulsed looking directly at him, except for the times auntie Idil or Uncle Mustafa would call for his attention, forcing his eyes away from her; only then would her shoulders meekly relax and she'd get the courage to glare at him.

His smug gaze burned the side of her face and raked it leisurely down her body when she first teetered in, a side she had never seen or was perhaps blind to until today. He clearly had not bothered hiding his true colours. He appeared so estranged to her now, nothing like the Abdihakeem she had grown up with, the Abdihakeem she had adored and wished would look at her the same way she had once looked at him. It was such a hopeless love, and what exactly Hibaaq wanted to leave it as. Hopeless.

Warsame quietly contemplated from his seat in the armchair, uttering a few words of acknowledgement. The usual 'why do you seek my daughter,' in the most avuncular way, and Abdihakeem proudly answered with unwavering confidence. He found the boy's coquettish nature slightly unnerving, though he remained a good sport. How foolish and immature is what really went through his mind as Abdihakeem boasted, but he pacified the situation, after all, it was his daughter's final decision alongside his reluctant blessing.

He knew the way of his people. All responsibility and decision was on the father, even the marital choices of his children. If the father didn't approve, regardless of how fond the daughter is of the man and vice versa, the father's will goes. Warsame wasn't particularly keen on this concept, for he believed in Allah's qadr. Whoever married his daughter would be a man she chose, courted, and loved all by her own accord. He would be a man, that he felt strongly, was written beside his daughter a time before the sun ever came into existence and the oceans were ever expanded. Warsame always prayed a good man and a god fearing man to walk into her life, a man that would bring unconditional love and joy to his only child. Although he wasn't quite sure if that man was Abdihakeem.

Idil, on the contrary, droned on about how it was all so exciting as she clutched her son's hand, obviously blinded by all the 'excitement' to notice Hibaaq's withdrawal to the conservation. She couldn't stand the likes of him, sitting across from her, similing from ear to ear, clearly feeding into his mother's buoyant duas of a bright future for the pair. Hibaaq had not even given her reply, and here she was sealing her fate.

"Come on, let's leave them to it," Idil rose from her seat, clapping her hands for attention. The chatter between uncle Mustafa and her father halted, and so did the bickering Muse siblings. "Layla can stay as a chaperone." Idil gestured for the men to get up. She stopped at the threshold of the living room door, shooting a wink at Hibaaq before sashaying on.

Layla's eyes widened at her mother's suggestion, but it was too late to say anything now, and she wanted her head on her shoulders.

"As if we haven't been alone before," Abdihakeem chuckled, lowly. "I think we'll be fine," His eyes darted to his sister then to the door and then back again, a clear indication for her to scram. Though, Layla stayed rooted, grabbing onto Hibaaq's hand.

"I think not, the whole point of this is to be chaperoned," She scoffed, feeling Hibaaq's frame slowly lean into her side, her hand squeezed her knuckles. Evidently, Hibaaq did not want Layla to leave them alone. "I'm not listening."

Abdihakeem closed his eyes briefly, as if asking for patience before he opened them again, glaring once at his sister. Then, his gaze shifted to his perfect dainty bride, sitting as calmly as an orchid flower in a warm spring meadow. To Abdihakeem she appeared just like that, disregarding the grimaces and scowls plaguing her soft features.

"Let me start off by saying that I'm sorry, I know I came on a short notice without telling you first, and I'm sorry for the way I left that night, it must've worried you." He began, already setting his path ablaze. Hibaaq had to strain her ears for she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "I want to make things right again, I know you feel the same way." He continued, and at that point everything that left his mouth sounded like poison. Whatever happened to the soft spoken gentleman she knew, and what in the world had possessed him. Every word and syllable he uttered, dripped in pure arrogance. Layla gasped soundlessly, even she couldn't recognise the man in front of her.

"What"— Hibaaq uttered, bewildered.

"I really do hope you accept my hand Hibaaq, it would make me the most happiest man on earth."

Hibaaq quickly stood up, she was thoroughly fed up and had more than enough of his nonsense. "What a way to ask for my hand," She let out a lifeless laugh. "What a way to apologise. How plausible would everything be if I had really done something to take blame for, but there is none, and yet you ridiculed me, stomped all over my dignity and left for days without a trace without so much as an apology; only to return with such an absurd question?!" She didn't know where it all came from, but she couldn't deny that it felt good to finally hurl it back at him.

"Hibaaq, listen" —

"No! You listen. Making you the happiest man on earth is the least of my worries Abdihakeem, you made it very clear that night." She spat venomously, filled with pent up rage. "Shame on you for thinking I would be fine with this. Come talk to me when you find the heart to apologise, properly."

Before she knew it, her legs carried her away from the living room and up the stairs, vehemently. She returned to her bedroom with tears pooling her eyes. Hibaaq could hear the blood in her veins, rushing through her body to fill her head as she fell back on her bed. She grabbed a pillow to squeeze the remaining bits of frustration out, rendering it flat. She crushed it, the same way he had crushed her heart. She grabbed another pillow to scream into, and it ate up her muffled cry into its feathered core. Her mind took her back to that night on the restaurant terrace, where he had cornered her, practically smeared dirt in her face and implied that she was a whore. If the world could turn back its course, how she would relish in slapping the arrogance from him, however many times it took till he was totally clean from it.

She couldn't tell exactly how many hours had passed by since she stormed upstairs, though the sky outside began to gradually darken. Hibaaq sent anyone who tried to console her on their merry way. Why couldn't they understand, she just needed some time to be by herself, she thought exasperatedly.

Auntie Idil was first, attempting to gently persuade her out of her room to 'work it out'. She had left them to talk, and came back to a frenzied Abdihakeem and a silent Layla in the living room instead. She couldn't begin to think what had transpired in her absence, and Hibaaq wasn't making it easier for her to understand. Then only a couple of minutes later, her father came up, demanding her to open the door she had jammed with her vanity chair up against it. Hibaaq refused. Her best friend trudged her way outside her bedroom door shortly after, pleading with her to open up, ready to listen to all her concerns, but Hibaaq hadn't the energy to so much as reply. Then the last person on earth she wanted to hear, had the audacity to stand outside her premises and try to comfort her. Hibaaq felt repulsed. She didn't know what kind of psychotic drugs she was on, ever thinking this man was charming.

Even Ayeeyo Warsam had banged on her door, a string of curses tumbling from her mouth when she didn't get a peep from the other end. "See if any man will ever ask for your hand in marriage again, you ungrateful, insolent girl." She rasped, sooner Hibaaq heard her old cane forcefully hitting against the flooring.

Everybody came to her doorstep, as if working by the clock, there wasn't a minute she could bask in the silence. Nevertheless, it was time for the Muse family to leave, disappointed, no doubt, still Hibaaq couldn't find it in herself to care. Everybody had come, everyone except for Ercole. The one person, she was remotely willing to open the door for, but when a few more hours dragged by, her hopes shattered before her eyes into a million splinters.

Hibaaq exhaled shakily, her chest hurting from crying. She reached under her bed to grab her pen and journal, and started to date an entry. It was time to finally come to the conclusion.

Wednesday June 21st, 1968

I'm in love.

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