Author's Note: Picture is of Jessica Alba playing Irsa, the evil woman :P
Haha, so you guys didn't give me the reads I wanted but that's okay. I update on Fridays so here's one for today. Enjoy!
Chapter 7- The Second Result
Dear Musa and Ruhayl,
Remember the day Mamma cooked us chocolate muffins? Mamma had told us about Ruhayl and we were mad because we didn't want a little brother. To make up for it, Mamma baked muffins. Remember how we grimaced when we saw them? They looked burned. And when we bit into them, the melted chocolate filled our mouths and our smiles were so wide, it was a wonder our faces hadn't split. Remember, Moose? That was the only time we ate chocolate.
I made something with chocolate today. I didn't eat it though. If you were there, I would have. But it didn't feel right. On Ruhayl's next birthday, save up for chocolate, okay? And when you eat it, remember me.
Mamma told us not to judge by appearances. It's so hard to sometimes. Sometimes, you meet people who you want to judge by appearances. I met someone like that. I can't stop judging him for his actions. I wish you were here. You would prevent me from being so negative. Do you think-
The door flung open and Shifa walked in with a tray. Dinner. Myeesha put away the letter and stood up to take it from her. She had expected Shifa to leave after that and was surprised to see the maid wringing her hands and biting her bottom lip, rooted in her spot.
"Shifa? Are you okay?"
"Yes!" Shifa blurted out. Myeesha stepped back and held up her hands. "Um, I'm sorry. I-I wanted to talk to you about something."
Myeesha relaxed and smiled. "Of course. Come sit. We'll have dinner together."
"Oh no, I-" Shifa began to protest when Myeesha sat her down on her bed and passed her the plate of spiced chicken.
"I can't finish this by myself." Myeesha picked up a piece and her eyebrows shot up. Shifa reluctantly ate some before Myeesha prodded, "All right. I'm listening."
"Okay, so I know a man from since we were both babies. And I always thought I might- you know?"
Myeesha chuckled in amusement. "Go on."
"Well, I was wrong. There's another man and I think I love him. I just met him though and I can't be sure. But he- he's so sweet! And nice and cute and- and he has such an amazing voice!" The wistful expression was replaced with anxiety. "The first guy proposed. What do I do?"
Myeesha wrinkled her nose and slowly munched on a bit of chicken. "I'm a bit confused. Do you love the first man or the second?"
"The second. I think," she added with a small frown. "He makes me feel things the second doesn't. Like butterflies."
"Right. This is a difficult one."
Shifa sighed and dropped her head in her hands. "Have you ever loved anyone?"
Myeesha shrugged. "I love my brothers."
"No. Another man."
She shook her head. "You should do istahara."
"Istahara?"
"It's basically a process in which you ask for Allah's choice in the matter. I'll teach you the Dua'a. Inshallah, Allah will show you the right answer. He'll either put it in your heart or you'll see it in a dream or the path will be made easier for you to obtain or abstain from that thing. Whichever way it is, you'll know for sure what to do."
Shifa's face lit up. "Oh thank you, Myeesha!" She exclaimed. "That's just what I need. Thank you so much."
"No problem. Here, I'll write down the Dua'a. That would be better." Myeesha took out a piece of paper from the drawer of the bedside table and jotted down the Arabic lettering. Afterwards, she told her the way to perform the Dua'a properly.
She handed the page to Shifa and the maid neatly folded it before tucking it away in her dress pocket. Shifa grinned and then pulled her in a large hug.
"Even if you don't win, you'll still come visit me, right? You're my only girl friend!"
Myeesha had never had a friend besides Musa and Ruhayl before. She felt giddy inside and hugged her back tightly. "Yes."
"And if the Master does anything to hurt you after you marry him, you just come to me, yeah? I'll beat him good and black for you."
"Shifa. I don't think I'm going to marry him."
"Hush up. You don't know that."
Myeesha pulled away and cocked an eyebrow. "Don't you have other trays to deliver?"
Shifa stuck her tongue out and stood up. "Fine, fine, I'm leaving."
"You'll be back in the morning," Myeesha pointed out.
"True that. Bye-bye for now."
Myeesha smiled. "Assalam-u-Allaikum."
Shifa paused and turned back to face her. "Do you greet everyone like that?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Just wondering." Shifa waved and left the room, closing the door behind her. Myeesha went back to eating her dinner and writing the letter. She finished and penned down her favorite Ayahs on the remaining sheet. Something for Musa to keep. He was the one who had taught her how to draw Arabic calligraphy.
She drew a banana too. For Ruhayl.
~oOo~
This time Za'yaal was present. Myeesha was again called into his office. Instead waiting around in her room with her nerves, she decided to head over and rifle through a magazine or something. Perhaps those slim volumes were actually interesting, seeing as how many women hung over them.
She pulled on the outfit she had worn on the first day and the white flats. After pinning up the cardigan, she made her way to the office. She didn't realize how early she was until she'd entered and checked the clock. She still had an hour. Myeesha shrugged and sat down on a corner chair, leaning back and closing her eyes.
The butterflies wouldn't stop dancing in her chest.
The door opened and her eyes snapped open. Her stomach twisted in a funny way.
"Oh. Good morning."
Za'yaal glared at her and ran a hand over his features. He had a large cup of coffee in his hand and a folder in the other.
"Shut up. Don't chirp."
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Myeesha mumbled under her breath.
"Sofa. Midas crashed on my bed."
She chuckled in nervousness. He'd heard. Wonderful.
Za'yaal leaned against his desk and took a sip of his coffee. "What are you doing here so early? I'm not telling you the results before the others."
"You shouldn't jump to conclusions. I'm here because I thought it would help my anxiety. Being alone in a room is rather suffocating."
"Right."
"Are you always so incredulous?"
"Do you always dress like a nun?"
Myeesha frowned. "What?"
He walked towards her. "The scarf . . . the veil, the clothes . . . you should learn to loosen up. I feel sorry for Midas."
Myeesha clenched her jaw. "You think I can't win?"
He stopped, leaving an arm's-length distance between them. "Darling, I know you can't. You're highly incompetent."
"You just wait. When I win, I'm going to kill you on our honeymoon."
Za'yaal's eyebrow arched. "Our honeymoon?" Grinning, he stepped forward and leaned until his face was right in front of hers. Their noses almost touched. "How . . . exciting."
Myeesha slammed her head against the wall in attempt to gain some space. Rubbing the sore spot, she said, "I didn't mean it like that."
"Of course you didn't," he whispered huskily. His hand reached out and grabbed her veil. Myeesha's face paled.
"No!"
Za'yaal rolled his eyes. "Still playing the nun role? If you win, you're going to have to give it up."
She glowered at him. "We'll see."
"Feisty," he smirked and pulled his hand back. The button on his cuff slid against the pin she used to hold her cardigan together. The thread caught and with a tug, it was gone. Myeesha's eyes widened as the flaps fell open. Za'yaal's face flamed and Myeesha did the first thing that came to mind. She slapped a hand on his eyes.
"Don't look, you pervert!"
"I swear it was an accident!
She scooped up the pin from the floor and quickly stabbed it in with one hand while keeping the other firmly on Za'yaal's eyes. Their faces were bright red when she finally let him see again. Za'yaal appeared shocked.
"Woman, you have a lot to offer."
Myeesha nearly throttled him. If Midas hadn't entered, she would have. The redhead seemed surprised to see them both inside.
"Should I come back later?"
"Yes," Za'yaal grumbled.
"No," Myeesha answered.
Midas grinned. "All right." He sauntered over to the chair next to Myeesha. "Are you guys keeping it PG or just ready to skip over all the safety precautions?"
Za'yaal rolled his eyes. "Midas. Why aren't you chasing after Shifa?"
Midas's face dropped and he looked away. Za'yaal instantly knew something was wrong.
"Midas? Man, what happened?"
"She refused my fucking proposal."
Myeesha drew back and Za'yaal cursed.
Midas had proposed to Shifa? Allah . . .
Za'yaal's eyes found hers and he thrust his chin towards the door. She stood up. He was right. This was a private matter.
Midas shook his head. "No. It's okay. I'm fine. Forget it. I'll talk to you when I'm ready, yeah? And I'm sorry, Myeesha. I know I'm supposed to marry you-"
"Stop." Myeesha fixed him with a firm glance. "Don't do that to yourself. You can't choose who you love. I knew our marriage, if there is one, would be based on friendship. I'm not going to hate on you for loving someone else." She smiled and patted his head. "You're a good guy. I'm sorry for what happened."
Za'yaal pursed his lips and turned towards the window. A tentative smile spread on Midas's lips. "You sure are positive for someone who's lost a lot."
Myeesha chuckled. "I haven't lost what matters most."
Midas straightened, knitting his eyebrows. "That is?"
"Faith. Allah will always be mine. My parents left me. My brothers will eventually leave. No one stays with you forever except Allah. And that's what matters most."
Midas glanced at Za'yaal's rigid back before saying, "I never had Allah."
"Of course you did. Allah is always with you, waiting for you to recognize Him. He loves you more than seventy mothers. He forgives all of our sins even if they're greater than the foam in the ocean. He's waiting, Midas. Just open your heart. Cry. Let Him reach out and comfort you. After that, you'll never need anyone else."
"Will-"
Midas's question was cut off when Irsa and her poise walked in. He hastily stood up and went over to Za'yaal's side. Irsa narrowed her eyes at Myeesha before grabbing a magazine. She didn't seem like those women who randomly envied others. That was great.
One by one, the other nine women entered. Once they were all gathered, Za'yaal handed the folder to Midas and Midas asked them to line up again. Myeesha clutched the cloth of her dress and stood at the end.
"Right," Midas began. "This time you'll be rated on a range of one to ten. Ten being the best, one being the worst. Let's start. Rafina, four."
She paled and Midas moved on. "Aliya, five. Iqra- two. Yikes. Um, Parisa, three. Irsa . . . four."
She shrieked and Midas dodged her heel. Lora obtained the highest at seven points and Mihra the lowest at one. Midas grinned when he got to Myeesha. "And for saving our tongues, Myeesha gets the most points. Nine."
Myeesha couldn't believe it. She thought her ears were ringing. Midas winked and set the file down on the table while she tried to figure out if she should be screaming in shock or crying in happiness.
"Iqra, Parisa and Mihra, you are dismissed," Midas said and bowed.
Three more gone. Ten left.
The women left the room in tears.
"As for the rest of you, you are generously getting the next two days off. Go. Rest. Whatever. Just be in the dining hall on time on Saturday. You can go squeal in joy now. And Irsa, you are not getting shoes to replace that pair."
The brunette gave him the evilest look she could muster and flung the second shoe at him before huffing out barefoot. Midas rolled his eyes.
"She's definitely on her monthly."
The women did just as Midas said, running out and shrieking. Myeesha winced and covered her ears.
"You're not going to join the festivities?" Midas asked while pouring himself a glass of water. Za'yaal was quiet, sitting on his chair and going through something on his tablet.
"No."
Midas snickered. "You're the outcast?"
"I guess. I don't really fit in."
"Aww, that's okay. You have me, right? And I'm awesome."
Myeesha laughed. "You are nice," she agreed and glimpsed at the Heir of Dragos. "Jazakallah for not eliminating me, Za'yaal."
Za'yaal looked up and Midas was quick to reply, "He ate all of your pudding. Every last drop. I barely got one teensy bit."
"That's not true!" Za'yaal denied.
"Yes it is. You were practically licking the damn bowl. Myeesha, would you be a darling and make some more for him? I know he's dying to ask but his stupid Dragos pride won't allow it."
Myeesha smiled and played along. "Sure. Tomorrow?"
Midas winked at Za'yaal who was seething. "Grand. Just don't make him wait too long."
Za'yaal looked ready to kill. He sneered and loosened his tie, pushing up his sleeves. This could get messy. He paused when he heard Myeesha's gasp.
"You have a scar."
He recoiled in shock. "What?"
"You have a scar," she repeated, tracing a long line down the bottom of her neck. "On your collarbone."
Fuck.
The tattoo was supposed to cover it! He yanked his collar together.
"It's nothing."
"It doesn't look like nothing."
"Let me rephrase that. It's none of your business."
"You really are incredulous. I won't bite, you know. It looks rather painful."
Midas was watching carefully, from Za'yaal to Myeesha. Even Tyron didn't know the Heir possessed such a gruesome reminder of his mother's demise.
Za'yaal scowled. "Aren't you disgusted?"
Myeesha released a small breath. "By your pain? No. It just continues to explain your bitterness." She nodded once. "I will see you in two days then, Inshallah. Assalam-u-Allaikum."
Midas was disappointed. He'd hoped she would pester Za'yaal into giving her an answer. Perhaps she was giving him time to adjust to having his walls slowly break down in oblivion. Hopefully she would start the pestering soon.