Unconditionally

30 | Vulnerable

"Hareem, wait..." The sounds of his footsteps coming after me made me stop in the hallway.

I turned to look at him, and for some reason I found my eyes burning with unshed tears. I didn't want to behave immaturely, but for some reason I felt hurt. He was just being nice. The truth must be that he didn't want to help me anymore. 

"More than the conflict of interests, there is the bigger matter of our religion. I should not be spending so much time alone with a girl that I am developing feelings for." He admitted. "It feels inappropriate." He took a step closer. "You are so special, Hareem. So strong, so courageous that it amazes me."

For a few moments it felt like we are all alone in this building, in our own special bubble. But then reality dawned on me as the boundaries of non-mehram relations became blatantly obvious to me. I stepped back, as I felt my breathing rate increase along with my heartbeat. Our gazes seemed to be having a silent conversation, and I felt a deep yearning within me. "You are right. This isn't right. Thank you for all your help, Dr Emaad. Trust me, I really appreciate it. But I really do not wish to continue the sessions with anyone else. I think I am going to stop here." I gave him a small smile. "You have at least taught me that I am capable of learning how to trust someone outside my immediate circle."

"I wish you nothing but the best, Hareem." He said, softly.

"I wish you the same, Dr Emaad. I can tell that you genuinely care, and this world needs more people like you; people who put kindness and compassion above fees." I turned and strode out of there, feeling my chest tighten with strange feelings. 

*

You are Hareem. You are strong. Sort yourself out.

But the little self pep-talk wasn't working. I felt an unbearable amount of disappointment burden me, as if I had lost out on something very meaningful.

I was preparing my clothes for work that evening, hoping to distract myself. And yet a stubborn tear slid down my cheek. I am strong. Why am I acting like this? Angrily, I swiped away the tear, annoyed at myself.

There was a knock on the door.

I took a few shallow breaths to compose myself and glanced at my reflection in the mirror on the wardrobe door, ensuring that there was no sign of stray tears. "Come in."

The door opened and Rida Appi walked in. "Hareem, Mamma said that you've been locked in your room all afternoon? You okay?" 

"I'm always locked in my room when I am home." I shrugged. "Hence Mamma is always telling me off." 

"She said that you were very quiet, which is not usual, Hareem." She, like Mamma, started to tidy up my room, staring with folding the duvet neatly.

"I had a migraine, that's all." 

"Come here." She held out her hand, and as I slipped my hand into hers, she made me sit on the bed beside her. "Mamma also says that she has noticed a positive change in you lately. You seem brighter, like your old self again." 

"I have been seeing a professional." I admitted. I was surprised that I was even able to admit this out loud. A month or two ago, I would have considered it a secret that I would take to my grave, and now I was admitting it.