Trust Me (An Islamic Love Story)

Chapter 70

Maliha has cooked me all of my favorite dishes and is keen on feeding everything. I do love the food so much, but I feel conscious of eating in front of her since she is fasting and I am not. When I express this to her, she dismisses it. "Come on, don't be silly, Abeer! Remember when you used to sneak in food from the kitchen for me when we were young! I used to eat in front of you all the time."

"Oh, yeah, we used to plan it out like we are going on a mission or something," I recall. "You got lucky that I am not fasting."

"I would have still cooked all of it anyways to serve you later," she says as she fills my plate, and I give in to her efforts. "How is everything going at the orphanage?"

"It is okay," I reply after I swallow. "Things could be better, but it takes time and resources to make a difference."

"True," she concurs. "Ahmed and I were planning on giving a portion of Zakat as a fund there. People are more willing to spend in Ramadan."

"Thanks," I appreciate and muse about the publicist's accusatory behavior, wondering if I should ask her for advice.

"I heard about your friend, Madam Sabira," Maliha rather carefully mentions. "I am sorry for your loss. It is terrible."

"Thank you. She is in a better place now, In Sha Allah," I respond, my heart aching at the mention of her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She pushes a little but retreats. "Or not talk about it. It is up to you."

"I think Allah has hardened my heart," I ponder out loud. "I have lost so many people, so many friends to death especially, yet I live on. I am just glad I can pray for them from here."

"Abeer, you have us," she emphasizes, squeezing my hand. "You have me, Mom, Pops, you have us. We are flawed. We are not perfect and probably very messed up, but we are here. Please don't push us away anymore. You have a savior, a hero complex, and I understand it. I really do because you actually saved us, but even heroes need recharging, okay? You need to recharge."

"I—" I get cut off since Maliha's mobile starts ringing. She picks it up, eyeing me as if to say that the conversation is not over, and leaves the living room. I sit there, feeling unsettled by the turn of conversation. I truly believe that Maliha has good intentions, but it doesn't help that she was adamant about Raheesh not being real so much that she convinced others too that he wasn't.

I snap out of my thoughts as I hear the keys clinking at the entrance door. I assume it is Ahmed, and I jolt up, but before I can do anything, make a grab for my scarf and veil, I come face to face with none other than Mama. There is an awkwardness that takes over the room like a dark cloud. Her hand freezes midway, and her eyes widen, bulging as if she can't believe what she is seeing.

To make things even more complicated, Baba walks in right behind her. "Abeer..." He barely says, his jaw-dropping at my sight, and I turn beetroot red.

"I—" In mere seconds, I try to frame my words several times, but I fail to explain myself. Amidst my tries enters Azar.

For a split second, he looks at his parents gawking at me, then at me, and to my astonishment, he hurries towards me. "Let's get you out of here," he stresses. I look numbly at him as he tugs me away to the corridor on my right, away from his parents.

I don't completely comprehend why he reacted so weirdly, but I do once I hear Ahmed enter the living room, asking Mama and Baba. "What happened to you guys? Maliha, what is going on?"

That is all I hear before Azar tugs me away from the corridor too, and takes me to the backyard. Azar slides the door shut, his hand still on the handle, trying to catch his breath.