Against The Tide (Formerly Two Tribes)

49: Cold Sweat

"What's on your mind, JaFrah?"

"Hmm..."

"Are you perhaps mad at me because I left without saying bye to you?"

"I—"

"Let me explain," Jameel cut her off. "I stopped by in the morning after fajr, saw your prayer mat still on the floor and you were soundly asleep in bed. I wanted to wake you up so badly but I didn't want to disturb your peaceful sleep."

"Oh."

"Are you still mad at me? Don't be. I will make it up to you when I get back."

"Don't make such promises." Afrah heaved a sigh. She hated it so much when that was said to her. Why tell her in words and not actions?

"I guess you're still mad at me. I really would have waited for you to wake up but I had to be here at the office very early as I have a lot to do today and I wanted to start early."

"I understand."

"Thank you, baby. Have you eaten though? I hope you don't plan to skip."

"I have...a while ago. How about you?" She asked. It was her chance to know if Najah was the one who made breakfast for him in the morning. "Did you have something to eat before leaving?"

"Yes."

Afrah was disappointed by Jameel's curt reply. She hummed again.

"I will try to finish up early and return home as soon as possible."

Defeated, Afrah replied; "Alright."

"Don't miss me too much. I know you're already doing that. Say Salam to my baby for me."

"Bye." Afrah ended the call and exasperatedly threw the phone on the bed.

"Why am I so restless?"

Afrah found it strange that the house was that quiet. It was as if she was the only one around. Najah wasn't making any sound around the house and it was worrisome.

Not able to bear the guilt of not asking her if she was alright earlier, Afrah left her room for the kitchen but met Najah's absence.

She contemplated going to Najah's room to see for herself if she was alright and this time, her conscience won over her ego.

With a shaky fist, Afrah knocked on the door. No response was gotten. She knocked for the second time and still didn't get a response. That invoked more unsettling feelings in the pit of her stomach.

She pushed open the door. Luckily, it was not locked.

Afrah was welcomed by the drops of blood on the floor. Her hand flew over her mouth and she let out a gasp. Najah wasn't in the room.

Afrah's gaze darted to the bathroom door which was ajar. Her legs immediately carried her there.

As she approached, her eyes fixated on Najah on the floor, writhing in agony. Her face contorted, etching lines of torment that spoke volumes. Her furrowed brows, tightly pursed lips, and clenched jaw emphasized the severity of her pain.

"Najah!" Afrah screamed and fell to her knees; her lips quivering as she spoke. "What's happening to you?"

"My...my baby," Najah forced out the word; her arms clutched around her stomach tightly. "My baby," she cried.

Afrah's heart raced, and her eyes widened in horror. A gut-wrenching sense of helplessness washed over her, her breath catching in her throat. "Don't worry, Najah... you're going to be alright. Your baby is going to be fine."