Broken With Betrayal

Chapter Three : Muhammad Hassan Ali

“Yes, I am. Where’s Mom?” I asked her suddenly remembering what I came here for.

“She went to your sister’s school. She told that it was her first day and she considered it important to pick her up on the first day, in this way she might also get to meet her teachers,” she kept talking as the water splashed around her. “Is Haris home?” she asked, still not looking at me.

What a question to ask. Of course he is home, he comes with me right? “Yes,” I tell her, “he’s in his room. Speaking of rooms, did you clean my bedroom?” I stood straight and asked her. But she did not listen to me, instead she quickly stopped washing and drying her hands on the towel, started talking of laying the table and stuff like that.

“Did you clean my bed room?” I ask her again, this time louder.

“Oh yes, bedrooms, I made sure I cleaned them properly. Why, are you not satisfied with the cleaning? I’m sorry but I did it properly I remember and –”

God, this woman speaks a lot! “DID YOU CLEAN MY BEDROOM?” I practically shout at her this time and she stops like she has been struck by a lightening.

“Which one is yours?” she asked me after a moments silence, the confusion and fear evident on her face. What? Did Mom tell her how beastly I am? That’s what I should expect from her.

“The one upstairs, that has a porch,” I reply, trying to stay calm. After all, she elder than me, I shouldn’t shout.

“No,” she shook her head quickly, “I didn’t. Your Mom did that one,” she informed me. The moment the words escaped her lips, something tingled in me. Anger.

I turned around quickly, but then stopped. Razia was still standing, staring at me. She hadn’t moved an inch. I walk forward a few steps. She still doesn’t move. Her small stout figure looks even smaller in front of my tall body.

“Now listen Razia,” I start calmly, with a deadly resonance in my voice, “I don’t want to be rude, but now that you know which room is mine, I might as well tell you that I do not like trespassers. My room is my territory, and the only thing that someone is allowed to do is to knock at the door. Okay?” This said, I smile my most beautiful smile, and march out of the kitchen, my smile lost now.

On reaching the bed room, I pick my bag and throw it on a side chair, then slamming the door shut I lock it and turn around to face it. She cleaned my room, only my room. In order to irritate me, purposely. I don’t like her, and I don’t like her arrangement.

Not wasting another thought, I moved towards my bed and pulled off the bed sheet, making it fall on the ground. I pull out the magazines from the book shelf and fling them at the rug. I walk over to my closet, pull open the doors and toss the clothes on the door, blindly, furiously. “There you go, I whisper to my night shirt, “And you too, and you too!”

Finally, I make my way to the center of my room and examine it. It’s in a mess. Beautiful mess. And I’m satisfied. Now I won’t be staying in a room that she cleaned. I was panting hard I realized and I was tired too. I pushed back my hair, wet with sweat now. Grabbing the AC remote from my side table, I switch it on, fix the temperature at 15 degrees Celsius, and toss my self on my un-made bed. “It’s hot”, I whisper to no one and unbutton my shirt drowsily as I yawn.

I don’t know when I fell asleep.

******

It’s dark, and cold. But I don’t stop walking. I know this path very well now. I’ve been here many times before. I walk on it in my dreams, though I don’t know where it leads me. I keep walking now also. There’s no one else, only me. A loud silence.