Prince from Paradise | ✔

XIII. Midnight Divulgences

Rabiya

The dark night whispered against her skin, cold breeze tickling the small of her back and drifting through her black salwar kameez. Gold rimmed the edges and decorated the mass of inky hues like the fuels of nightmares mixed with a touch of light, an immoral concoction of all the inconsistencies of life. 

Rabiya brought her legs to her chest, head resting against the peeling walls of her grandfather's house. Although the night collapsed into a heap of burning tears and aching hearts, her family refused to surrender to their enemies, refused to abandon their grandfather's legacy, so they stayed. 

Everyone fell asleep, but not Rabiya. She did not know how or if she could ever find peace in a realm made of clouds and fairylands when she would wake up to the cold slap of reality. Her skin burned, body aching with a wanton desire to see Adar again. 

How can I still see him after this? How can I even think about him when his family caused all this suffering?

The evils that lurked Bangladesh from war and village politics lingered their breaths with a promise of a better future, a better life, a better tomorrow, yet it never came. Lies ran rampage like the blood of innocent spoiling her lands. Adar and his family were just another piece to the chaos.

But she could not deny the truth within her heart. Perhaps the allure of a forbidden man sought her empathy and concern, or perhaps the gentle gaze in his warm eyes brought a bubbling glee to her chest, she was no longer sure of what to believe in her heart. 

Rabiya only had Allah to rely on, only Allah to turn to. Help me, she prayed. Help me find the truth of what happened tonight.

A gentle knock touched her window, startling Rabiya. 

Straightening, she glanced around the room, assuring herself that everyone in the house was asleep and that she was alone. Wrapping a scarf around her head, she shielded herself with the end of her veil, doe-like eyes anticipating an intruder. When she unhinged the wooden covers on the window, her eyes met familiar brown ones.

"Adar?" she whispered into her scarf. "What are you doing here?"

He looked so tired, so worn like he had returned from his own war. Ashes marred his sun-kissed skin, scabs and bruises hidden under a marsh of fire debris. Stress lined under his eyes and on his forehead, yet his loving gaze never wavered, his sincere expression stayed firm, softening at the sight of her. 

"I came to see you."

Memories of the night's horrors returned, demons digging their claws into Rabiya's back, forcing her to retreat from the hypnotizing lure of his eyes. She could not forget her family's blood hurling screams, cousins' earth-shattering sobs, and her own trembling body. They blinded her vision, trapped her in a vicious cycle of confusion and regret. 

"I don't want to talk to you," she said, tears welling her eyes. "Not after what your family did. Please, go."

His visage twisted into pain like she crushed him. "Rabiya, don't send me away," he begged, gripping onto the wooden covers. "Let me explain to you. Let me clear my name and prove my devotion."

"I don't want your devotion!" she hissed. "I want my grandfather's legacy back. I want my uncle's children. I want just one night of peaceful sleep, one night of no struggles, one night to comfort my family until their tears are dry and their smiles are wide. That is what I want."

A brief silence ensued as Rabiya's chest felt lighter, her breaths coming in short pants at the explosion of her true feelings. The painful reminder of the two men she lost had taken a gruesome toll on her body, weakening her like the chains to a prisoner. Somewhere along the line, she lost herself in her grief, but in the presence of Adar, she felt awakened, felt alive.