Beau Monde ✅

Chapter 20

I don't know how long I sat there and shut the outside world out, but I knew I had been in denial for way too long. And even after all that, I didn't want to accept it. It didn't feel real..it felt like they all simply took a trip.

Except, this time around...they never came back.

~*~

The days that followed all passed in a blur. I felt like I was repeating the same circle, over and over. I was more in a loop in time, without a chance of escaping and seeing the light of the day again.

I knew I was still in the Fadels residence, and it seemed they have postponed their return to the US because of me. Every day, they both come to check up on me. They would bring food, and try to talk me out of the hole swallowing me. It didn't seem like they were making any progress though—because I simply watch them blankly, the words they utter sounding so distant.

The only time I ever feel healed were moments when I pray. That's the only time I ever feel the hole in my heart filled up. And so, I frequent doing just that.

See, that's one thing about my parents that I will always be grateful for. In spite of the life we lived, they never allowed us to be caught up by worldly materials. They made sure we knew about the religion, and tried their hardest to be better muslims, as well as make us better muslims.

When things are tough, they always say, "Pray. Pour your heart out to Allah. He knows, and he listens. He will always be there for you even when you feel like you have no one."

I never thought a day would come where I would remember their words, and truly understand what they mean. Until now.

Regardless of the Fadels presence, I still felt alone. However, whenever I stand and pray before Allah, it felt like I was no longer alone. My heart was slowly healing, and I was slowly getting back on my feet.

At a point, I was no longer tuning both the older woman and man out. And I was more conscious of the entire ordeal. I overheard them one day talking about how my Uncle is behind it, or more like their guess on how he could be the one behind it. It was clear it wasn't just a simple accident—they had enough power to look into it and the truth came to light.

It wasn't a simple accident, it was planned.

Someone planned to have my entire family wiped out of existence.

And only one person benefit the most from it, my Uncle. He had the motive anyway. Had it been my father returned to Maroudi, he would've been kicked to the curb without a second thought. It seemed in his desperate attempt to stay in power, he choose to get rid of my father and my family instead.

I didn't need them to say it, or for the evidence they found against him to turn out being true, I already knew.

Just as much as I knew my life was in danger. It's already enough people knew only four corpse were found, instead of five. My parents, sister, and the driver. They all assumed my body was missing in the water, and that there's no way I could've survived.

I was practically living as a dead person, and probably would for the rest of my life.

It was all so hard to accept to be honest, and I was simply living life as it comes. I didn't force myself to accept anything, or to try and figure out what to do next. I guess it helped that no one knew whom my parents came to meet, so no one would suspect the Fadels being in the picture—as well as me staying with them.

I was safe with them. I knew it.

And my thoughts were confirmed when the older woman came to check up on me like always, bringing food along with her. She took cautious steps into the room, as if scared that if she makes the wrong move she might set me off.

She didn't have to though, I had already accepted everything then. I just felt...lost.

She placed the tray of food aside on the beside cabinet, before moving to sit beside me on the bed.  "Muhammad..." She called out softly, in that motherly tone of hers.

I looked up from where I'm seated beside her, my soulless gaze falling on her worried ones. I could tell my expression and actions only worried her, and though it wasn't my intention, I couldn't bring myself to act otherwise.

She darted her tongue out to wet her lower lip, before carefully placing her hand on mine, slipping the other one underneath it so she's covering it with her warm ones. A sigh left her lips, as she stared at our hands now together. It took her a few seconds before she found her voice again.

"You know, it was hard for me when I lost my son as well." She voiced out softly, her voice so low I could've barely heard it if my entire attention wasn't on her. "For a while, I doubted myself constantly and wondered if I was ever a good enough for him. I blamed, and told myself that if I had put in a little bit more effort, perhaps, I could've saved him." She confessed, with much difficulty.

I couldn't blame her, I knew how hard it is to open up about a loved one's death. I don't think I ever could.

She's able to do so though, even if it seemed it was taking everything in her to do so.

Swallowing thickly, she flicked her eyes up to meet mine. "But you know what? Deep down, I knew it was his time to go, and that nothing could change it. That's how death is. Idan lokacin mutum yayi, nothing can change, or stop it. You know that, right?"

I nodded slowly. Unable to hold her gaze again, I looked down as I released a small breath. I knew and understood fully what she's saying. It took me a while to accept it, but I've done exactly that.

"Your family died because it was their time to do, regardless of the factors that led to it. Haka Allah yayi. You love them, we all do, but Allah loves them the most. You are allowed to be affected by it. However, you know this isn't what they would've wanted for you. What they need the most now from you, is your prayers—nothing else."

You know, even after their deaths, I still couldn't bring myself to cry. It's not about being heartless, I was hurt inside beyond that which you can imagine...however, the tears never came.

At that moment though, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes...and all it was taking was just her, telling me facts that I am already aware of. Perhaps, it's because of her motherly tone, or because it was suddenly hitting me all over again but I could feel it then, I was going to break down.

"Yes, your family passed away—and no one can ever fill that void but Muhammad, you have me. If I and my husband were in your parents place, I know they would've taken in my child as theirs without a second thought. It's the same for me. You are my child as well, and you're my husband's too. We're still your family. And even though we can't replace them—we don't plan to, you can always consider us your parents because you are a son to us." She gave my hand a small squeeze when she said that.

Subconsciously, I felt tears slide down my face then. I tried to reach my free hand to stop it, but more cascaded without a warning whatsoever. I've never cried in my life, and yet at that moment, I didn't even want to stop myself.

I didn't care that I was crying in front of her.

When she took me into her arms the, I completely broke down because both her action, and words spoke volumes.

"—you lost a family, but you gained another one as well. I promise you this. Your father and I will always love, and protect you. You're an amanah to us, and we will do our best to keep it come what may. We're all a family now."