The Family | Book 1

Preface

"This letter...."

Her voice trails off in wonder as she inspects the blue envelope she finds by her window sill.

"It's not even my birthday. Why would someone leave it by the window?"

She paces as she tries to link possibilities to the mysterious finding of the envelope. Her white socks and lime yellow pajamas gave a more of the early spring vibes. It was already nine in the morning.

"Uhh! I can't seem to think no more. Why would someone leave it there in the first place!"

Annoyingly running her hands in her dark wavy brown hair, she starts stomping in frustration. While doing so the envelope flies off, underneath her bed.

She notices that and bends down next to the bed as the bedsheets fell down from one side. With one hand holding up the blue sheet, she finds the envelope next to a hatbox. She extends her hand to grab hold of it when an another pink colored envelope catches her sight. She pulls both of them out.

"Is this a joke? A scavenger hunt?"

Her mind is dead from the morning slack and last night's burning of midnight oil. If only this was a joke.

Giving it a long thought, she grabs her blue head scarf and pink morning gown, while she races down the steps clutching on the two sealed envelopes.

"Ammi! Ammi!"

Fatima continuously yells as she approaches a lady at the breakfast table, who stood pouring citrus juice for her husband.

"Ammi!"

"Patience, my dear."

She answers with a warm smile at her as the arms cling around the elderly.

"Good morning daughter, all the hugs for your mother? We don't exist in the picture, huh?"

Her father showed his offence by pulling on a sad face and started to munch on his jam toast.
Mother-daughter looked at one another.

"Oh Dad, how are is our family picture complete without you?"

And so the morning hug session completed. Her father was everything to her. The only person she could trust to not betray her. But the envelopes she held....

"Why, which calamity had struck that you needed to scream?"

"Mum, in the whirl I forgot to ask you about these."

She puts forth the two pieces of paper on the table, putting a stop to all seated there. She senses it.

"Didn't you... Wasn't it you who put them in my room?"

But the question seemed meaningless in the silence and stillness, though breakfasts were usually cheerful.

"Fa-Fatima," he spoke with a stammer in his voice, "today isn't your birthday."

Fading voice at the end was making Fatima have pits in her stomach. Every passing minute seemed unreal.

"Dad, what's wrong?" She inquired as her eyes shifted from her father to her mother, the hands shivered as she took in gulps of the juice.

Odd. The crisp of toasts and sweet marmalades scents were more noticeable today, she thought. Blue and pink envelopes in the middle of the table amidst the woven baskets of bread and jam jars with clear glass vessels filled with juices and caffé, the colours made it odd against the yellow white floral table cloth.

"Mum, Dad. Your silence is killing me on the inside. It's different today. You both are acting odd...."

Worried she was, the fact that none answered anything to her.

In rage and anguish, she opened the envelopes. Starting from the blue. All eyes averted to her and silently closed as they knew what was bound to happen next.

As the eyes traced every word written, once fiery eyes turned moist and round. By the end of the letter, a tear escaped. Her composed posture broke and she fell back in her seat.

The elderly were tearing up as well. Never in their wildest dreams had they expected for the letter to arrive other than the birthday. One who wrote had long died.

"I'm sorry, love."

"I'm not your daughter?" her voice trailing off as tears streamed down.

Badr-un-Nisa grabbed the girl's hand, slightly pressing it timely amid her sobs and shaking body. Nose was red from constant running of handkerchief.

"We did what was best, for you, as our own. But the truth is what's in front of you."

"I am not your daughter. I'm not!"

The door closed to her room to where she exiled for peace of mind and soothe her heart, aching badly then.

'That was the last time I fought with my parents. It's been two years to that now... ' she thought as she walked out of the plane terminal.