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Chapter 13: Crinkling emotions

Rufaida hesitated for a moment, unsure what price to quote, more so because she no more saw her as a client, but rather a friend who was much older to her. Trusting the bond they had developed over the past few days, she thus said, "I'll leave it up to you to come up with a number, you're a witness to the hours and work that went behind, you can pay me accordingly."

Smiling, Saima replied, "Sure, we'll take care of it."

It was late in the night by the time Rufaida finished, the constant ringing of her phone indicating her mum's worry back at home. While leaving, as Zara thanked her for all her help, her mum, Saima handed over a bag to Rufaida.

"This is for you," she smiled.

"JazakAllahu khair," Rufaida responded. "I hope you haven't taken much trouble," she said, because if Saima had some fancy cheque in it, Rufaida wasn't going to accept it, she was only expecting a minimal amount. Sure, Rufaida needed the money that this project would fetch her, but she hadn't worked just for that. That was the first lesson her mum had taught her regarding this professional world, that it's your right to be paid for your work, but it must be your intention to not work only to get paid.

"No trouble, Rufaida," Saima dismissed and after wishing Zara all the best and promising Saima they would keep in touch in the future, Rufaida headed out.

Since she wasn't very sure of the frequency of buses at this time of the night, Rufaida thought it was wiser to book an auto. She knew this transport would turn out to be pricey, but Rufaida tried to reason that it was alright, she could consider a part of the stipend that Saima offered as travel allowance.

But even as she brought all convincing logic to opt for it, the few drivers she approached did not want to drop her to her particular address. She stood outside the massive villa and sighed. She fetched her phone from her bag, and after sending her mum a quick message, she tried booking one from the previously installed app, but although her phone's battery was at 56%, it went off. Panicking slightly, Rufaida knew where this was going. Her phone, her companion for four years, was slowly protesting the grind Rufi had been putting it through.

Maybe it was time to get herself a new phone, and perhaps she could use the money earned through this project for that purpose, she thought. But while that was secondary, standing in a posh locality relatively deserted at this time, Rufaida had no clue how she'd get home tonight.

***

Ahmed was sprawled on the floor in their vast living room, busy laughing at memes on his phone, while little Fariha sat on his stomach, her legs on either side of him as she wheeled the car across his chest.

"Are you having fun using me as a racing track?" Ahmed grinned, putting his phone down and Fariha giggled.

"She hates playing with dolls," Raiyyan commented, looking at his little daughter in awe. In a few months, Fariha was going to turn one, but Raiyyan was still not over the fact that she belonged to him, that this little human was a blessing from Allah to him and his wife. Raiyyan had loved Tammara from a very long time, several years before they even got married, but that moment when Fariha was born and the two of them held their baby together for the first time, love was a very small word to describe what he felt for his wife.

"That's because Afreen's not here," Ahmed replied to Raiyyan's previous statement. "She'd teach her all girly stuff had she been here, but I'm glad to know in my shadow, my niece is taking over my interests, playing with cars and bikes."

That caused Raiyyan to bestow Ahmed an incredulous look. "Seriously? Trust you to turn my daughter's choices in your favor."

"Of course!" Ahmed exclaimed. Pinching her chubby cheeks, he said, "My friend's sister recently started her entrepreneurial venture that makes customized clothes for toddlers. So warn Tam not to be surprised if you receive some cool clothes with creative quotes written on them."