A Game That Destroys

↬ Drab Details

↬ Chapter Four

Myeesha woke for Fajr and opted to sleep for a few more hours before waking again at eight o'clock. She climbed out of bed and took a quick shower, for the first time having as much hot water as she pleased. It took a while to wash her hair and dry it. There was a hairdryer on the counter that she didn't know how to use so she stuck to towel-drying a major portion of her locks instead. Afterwards, she sat on the window seat, reading three chapters of a book while waiting for the sun to dry the rest of it. When ten o'clock rolled by, she began to get ready for the day.

She brushed out her hair, braided it and pinned it up in a bun like usual. Nobody was going to see it anyway so there was no need for some fancy hairstyle. Once that was done, she flipped through the clothes she had been provided with. Not a single dress was full-sleeved and only a handful were full-length. Myeesha nearly sighed her life away. She took out a simple white, sleeveless dress that reached the floor and looked more modest than the others. Dropping the bathrobe she had adorned, she tugged the dress on and pulled a white knitted cardigan over it. The shoes proved to be a bigger dilemma. High heels, stilettos, pumps . . . Myeesha didn't know what to do with a single one of them.

She put on a fluffy pair of pink socks and closed the wardrobe.

Now to deal with her veil.

That was easier to work with. She had been provided with a stack of scarves and sheer shawls. They were rather small in size. She didn't have much choice though.

The problem came later on, after she had fixed her niqab.

The top part of her chest showed. A peek of cleavage. And the cardigan didn't have buttons.

Myeesha dumped a box of jewelry on the floor, looking for a brooch or some safety pins. She had found straight pins with which she had wrapped her veil together. Those wouldn't work on her sweater unless she wanted to poke herself or risk the sweater opening with the smallest tug.

Her prayers were answered when she spotted a packet of bobby pins. Myeesha smiled to herself and pinned one securely to the flaps of the cardigan. Then she rifled through the pockets of her own dress, finding the battered old coin she had been given by her father so many years back, and tucked it safely into the cardigan. There. Time to square her shoulders, push aside her anxieties and face the first challenge. No, she did not know what to say to an interviewer. She had never met one before, if that was even relevant. She would do as she deemed fit when the task hit her on the face. Allah was with her. In Shaa Allah, she would get through it.

At twelve o'clock sharp, the same maid came knocking on her door. She introduced herself properly this time, informing her that her name was Shifa and she had been working for Za'yaal since they were both children. However, when Myeesha asked her what had happened to cause the Heir to become the man he was today, she refused to answer.

Myeesha was announced into a large dining hall which Shifa escorted her to. She noticed the other females were already seated, some turning to scrutinize her. Myeesha stared straight ahead and took her seat at chair number sixteen, furthest from Za'yaal.

'Good,' she thought.

Wait. Not so good.

She had to interrogate him on how he was treating her brothers!

A maid began serving her breakfast and Myeesha caught her arm before she could leave. "Can I get a pen, please?"

The maid nodded hesitantly in confusion and walked away. She returned a moment later with a pen on a tray. Myeesha thanked her and spread out a napkin on an empty plate. She wrote a small message and called the servant standing so stoically behind her.