𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐧 | 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝟎𝟏

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟎𝟏

FARAH

The sound of hushed footsteps pulls me out of my slumber.

Please tell me that was in my head.

Please.

Please-

Another footstep.

I slowly turn my head towards the closed door in my room, half expecting someone to bust it down to come in and attack me.

Please don’t.

The sound of footsteps come to a halt.
Slowly getting out of bed, I grab a scarf from my table and wrap it around my head, covering my hair.

If I’m dying tonight, I’m dying with my dignity.

Okay that’s a bit exaggerating but it’s true.

I reach the door and slowly open it to find an empty hallway.

I’m about to go back to sleep when I hear the sound of cabinets opening and closing.

My heart continues to thud.

I start to recite every dua I have ever learnt as I step out and start to walk towards the source of sound.

Are we getting robbed?

No one has ever been robbed in this town except for that one family years ago and that was one of their relatives scaring them because they were in some kind of family feud.

Family drama.

What? Everyone was talking about it. I just happen to pass by and hear it.

I regret not grabbing some kind of weapon. At least I could’ve defended myself.

I’ll grab the first thing I see-

I come to a halt when I spot a man looking around the kitchen island, opening and closing cabinets.

My body relaxes as I recognize the broad shoulders, white shalwaar and the light blue kurta.

“What are you doing, Abbu?”

At the sound of my voice, the man in question freezes mid-movement and slowly turns his head towards me.

“Beti, you woke up.”

I raise an eyebrow, placing a hand on my hip, “what are you doing in the middle of the night, Abbu?”

“I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d make myself some Chai.” He gives me an awkward and apologetic smile.

I sigh and drop my hand from my hip, “you should’ve woken me up.” I walk towards the other side of the kitchen aisle and open the corner cabinet to take out the ingredients and utensils for the tea.

“I never woke your mother. Why would I wake my daughter?”

I pause mid-movement before I continue my task. I can feel the small smile on Abbu’s face whenever he talks about his late wife.

The love of his life.

“Yes, you didn’t. But you would still get an earful for not waking her up.” I send him a smile over my shoulder before I return to my task.

He lets out a small laugh, “It never bothered me.”

My parents have the most beautiful love story.

A young soldier who fell in love with the new girl in town.

As a young girl, I always made Abbu retell the story of how he first fell for Ammi and asked her to marry him.

Growing up, I have always seen my parents deeply in love. Whether they show it in their kind gestures, their talks or even when Ammi scolded him and he just listened with a smile and said “as you wish, habibti” in the end.

I would grin like an idiot when I’d see Ammi blushing, grumble something then leave.

After the chai is finished, I pour it in a cup and place it on the dining table where Abbu have taken his seat.

“Jazak’Allah, beta.” He says and I give him a smile in return.

I take my seat across from him on the table as I say, “you scared me for a while, I thought we were getting robbed.”

“Is that why you came out unarmed?”

“I can be unarmed as long as Allah is with me.”

He smiles, “exactly.”

“Still, I thought I’d become a martyred tonight.” I rest my elbows on the table, cupping my face, “like Zohaib bhai.”

“And leave Abbu alone?”

“No, that’s why I’m alive, Abbu.” I grin at him and he chuckles.

The silence of the night returns as Abbu finishes his tea and I get lost in my thoughts.

Since my mother and brother passed away, the house always seems too empty, no matter how much Abbu and I spend time together. In the silence, unspoken words by the ones who left us ring in our ears and the memories play in front of our eyes.

Sometimes we stare at the empty seats wondering what they would do or say if they were here? What would be their thoughts on the topic?

Would Ammi still scold me for sleeping in too late? Would Zohaib continue to call me hopeless for how much I love reading love stories?

“What are you thinking about, beta?”

Abbu’s question brings me out of my endless thoughts. I turn my attention towards him to find him watching me with the same emotion in his eyes I’ve seen since we lost Ammi and Zohaib bhai.

Relief.

Relieved that I’m still here.

I swallow the lump forming in the back of my throat and smile at him, shaking my head lightly, “nothing, Abbu.” I take a deep breath and sit back, “it’s almost time for Fajr. Let’s pray Tahajjud.”

He nods. I take his cup and get up from my seat, walking towards the sink to wash it.

I’m about to get lost in my thoughts again while cleaning the cup when a warm pair of arms wrap me in a hug.
My father’s warmth fills my body as he places a kiss on my forehead.

“I am so thankful you’re here, beta.”

I close my eyes, pushing back the emotion forming in my throat.

I smile, open my eyes and look up at him as I say, “me too, Abbu.”

He smiles and kisses my forehead, “I love you, beta.”

“I love you too, Abbu.”

He smiles then turns to leave.

I keep my gaze on his back till he disappears into the hallway then turn my attention back to my task.

I try my best not to get lost in my thoughts. Not when I pray Tahajjud. Not when I pray Fajr. Not when I talk to my Creator.

But I lose all my strengths when I lay in my bed asking for slumber to take me back to sleep.

Instead, my thoughts take over the night till I forget when my slumber returned.