After aiding her grandmother back inside the house, Hibaaq went to help out Xalimo in the kitchen who came for her shift, as it was nearing dinner time. She simply couldn't allow herself to laze around while one woman carried out all the duties. As routine, Hibaaq did the minor helping such as cutting the vegetables and stirring the pots while smiling and giving galvanising compliments to the chef as she couldn't make a decent meal to save her life. The least she could do was take some of the burden off Xalimo's shoulders and clean after her as she swiftly moved about the kitchen and in and out of the dining room, placing the plates and cutlery down on the table.
"Hibaaq I'm almost finished here, go and sit down." Xalimo urged, serving up the steaming maraq in a large glass pot.
Hibaaq shook her head, washing the last of the dishes that were used by Xalimo while cooking.
"It's alright." She replied, waving a soapy hand over her shoulder.
Xalimo abruptly pulled Hibaaq's arm and led her to the entrance of the kitchen.
"Please." Xalimo handed the covered soup pot to her gently, her head nudging towards the dining room. Hibaaq sighed, her belly rumbling at the scent wafting from the pot in her arms. The two women peered knowingly at each other before chuckling harmoniously. "Go on, it's time to eat and you're in no place to protest." Xalimo poked fun as she softly patted her own stomach.
Hibaaq sheepishly grinned at the remark, though she gladly complied, taking the remaining dishes into the dining room.
"Assalamualaikum"! Xalimo announced, putting on her wedged shoes, waving at Hibaaq's form walking towards her.
Hibaaq gave her an appreciative smile as she opened the front door. "Wa'alaikumasalam, get home safe." She returned.
She always made sure to make a heap of dua for Xalimo. Though, she was no older than herself, she was quite the gifted and diligent woman. Hibaaq would be false not to admire her grace in all that she was, down to the way she spoke and carried herself.
"Allahuma Barik." She praised. Hibaaq then pivoted to her father's office to present dinner time.
Warsame owned a company building in the city, though he almost never attended, he preferred working at home unless he was forced to attend a board meeting. All of his employees kept loyal though, and there were rarely any questionable relations happening when Warsame wasn't around and for that he was grateful.
"Aabo, kaalay cuntay." Hibaaq popped her head in from the small opening she made, peering at her father who's head was buried in piles of paperwork on his desk. Hibaaq amusedly glanced around his unorganised work space. Warsame looked up, his glasses sliding down the wide bridge of his nose and a pen parked strategically between his upper and lower teeth as he nodded his reply.
Hibaaq nodded back, slowly clicking the door closed behind her. She set forth up the stairs to bring her grandmother down. Wishing, she could disregard the subtle excitement in her chest, aware that a certain someone would be joining them for dinner too, not that it was the first time, but it continually seemed to get Hibaaq feeling some type of way. She found herself looking forward to dinner every night.
In the evening, Warsame, Ayeeyo Warsam, Ercole and Hibaaq all sat in the dining room, lightly conversing over the delicious meal Xalimo prepared. It wasn't long till Ayeeyo Warsam made it known that she was exhausted and with the aid of Hibaaq, retreated upstairs to her bedroom. Soon after her son followed, giving a manly pat on Ercole's back on his way out, yawning from his own exhaustion. Working without the help of Ercole was quite the task indeed.
Ercole bid him a goodnight.
He sipped on his ice water in the dining room, alone, awaiting Hibaaq's return so that they could have one of their nightly conversations because since that night on the terrace, it quickly became an unspoken ritual.
Meanwhile, Hibaaq fluffed up Ayeeyo Warsam's pillows and dusted off her lilac sheets as she waited for her to finish her dua making in her rocking chair. Hibaaq tied a silk head wrap to protect nher grandmother's thining hair after she was done, sliding the frail woman's slippers off as she shakily eased into bed, she pulled on the light comforter over her slender frame.
Seeing as her job was done, Hibaaq turned to leave but upon leaving, Ayeeyo Warsam suddenly held onto Hibaaq's forearm.
"Was there something else, Ayeeyo macan"? Hibaaq questioned, slightly wincing at the tightening grip sooner her grandmother winced at the sickly term of endearment that was used.
Ayeeyo Warsam shook her head no, though unlike her body, her voice kept steady, uttering bleak words as per usual. "This boy that your father dragged in like a stray cat, don't get too close to him. Do you hear me, I won't let you make the same mistake as your father." She stated with a revolted edge to her tone and an irritated sneer taking over her aged features.
Hibaaq couldn't contain the distasteful gasp that parted her lips, she quickly covered her mouth as Ayeeyo Warsam forcefully let go of her forearm.
"Ayeeyo, Ercole isn't as bad as you suppose, he's Muslim. How cruel". Hibaaq bit down on her lip hard as the last remark slipped out without any warning, thereupon she earned a strong - willed strike to the face. She suppressed a whimper and held back the tears prickling and burning the back of her eyes. She puffed out a pained breath instead, her tear brimmed eyes looking upward.
"How cruel?!" Ayeeyo Warsam cackled. "He is worthless, and will bring nothing but trouble to you, he should know his place and by Allah so should you!" Ayeeyo Warsam exploded in an almost fanatical manner. Hibaaq had never seen her eyes light up with such hatred before, sitting up to glare down at her reckless granddaughter, whom stood so obviously holding back tears. Hibaaq's head hung low and she quickly nodded for she couldn't say anything else, otherwise she would be rewarded with another strike, though much harder than the last. Her grandmother might've appeared frail to the seeing eye, but she could kill if she wished to.
"Haye, Ayeeyo".
"Get out." Ayeeyo Warsam answered, her frown deepening in her face as she laid back down onto her side, turning her back away from Hibaaq as she exited the room.
Hibaaq hurriedly returned downstairs, retreating to the bathroom to stare at the deep crimson bruise on her left cheek, but most of all to cry her heart out. She sobbed and whimpered from pain both physical and emotional until she felt as if she had no more tears left to cry. As she stood above the sink, heaving and wiping at her wet eyes, a firm knock sounded at the bathroom door. When she didn't reply another one came and much firmer, it startled Hibaaq out of her depressive daze. The last thought was how degrading it felt hearing her mother be called a mistake when she was nothing but.
She sniffled before quietly answering. "Who is it"?
"It's me... I heard you crying Bella is everything alright"? He enquired, leaning his forehead on the wooden door, concerned. Hibaaq's cheeks burned instantly, one side more than the other, at the thought of him hearing her sobbing uncontrollably.
"Surely, I wasn't that loud was I"? She chuckled nervously, scratching at her covered head. The humiliation only increased upon hearing Ercole laugh heartily from the other side of the door.
"I'm sure the neighbours could hear." He jestingly replied.
"Stop it". Hibaaq squeaked, hiding her face from her dishevelled reflection in the mirror.
"I'm only joking".
She could still hear the remnants of a laugh in his voice.
"Of course." She muttered.
"Now come out, I'd much rather look at your beautiful face then talk to this door." Ercole didn't care to think before he spoke, sooner he realised that he had called her beautiful in the international language this time, though he was far from lying. He lightly hit his head on the wood as a clatter sounded from the other side. Hibaaq fiddled with picking up a clay ornament from the floor that once sat on a floating shelf above the sink before she accidentally knocked it over, trying to grasp at anything near to keep her steady.
"Is everything alright in there"? Ercole asked in jest as Hibaaq carefully set the ornament back on the shelf. She rested her palms on her chest, worrisome that her heart was going to beat out of it in any minute.
"Everything is fine, you can go ahead." Hibaaq
answered, feeling brave enough to look into the mirror and once again view what a mess she looked.
She unwrapped her black gabsaar before wrapping it back on over her head and around her shoulders, not too tight or too loose, tucking in any fly away strands. She smoothed out her patterned baati and after an encouraging mental pep talk, made her way out of the bathroom, only to be startled yet again. "I thought I told you to go ahead." She stared up at an amused Ercole who clearly found startling people as a source of entertainment.
"My apologies." He said, gesturing the lady walk first as he continued to snicker behind Hibaaq all the way up to the terrace. She rolled her eyes, and eased down into the swing chair, mildly glaring at a smiling Ercole who occupied a straw chair opposite her, his feet kicked up and crossed on a matching woven ottoman.
"I knew it was hobby." Hibaaq claimed, gently swinging back and forth.
"Ah, you've caught me." Ercole remarked, catching her gaze turn soft again as she moved her head heavenward.
Hibaaq slumped back into her seat and breathed in the crisp night air, it was hard to forget the stinging sensation on her cheek every time she spoke or grinned, she hoped Ercole hadn't noticed on their way, but it was a little too late for that.
He was aware of the bruise on her cheek, though he had a vague idea, it didn't take much pondering to figure out where it had come from. Ercole silently fumed as he watched Hibaaq's honey brown eyes flutter open and find his own. The gaze was long and filled with knowing, none initiating conversation about it until Hibaaq finally spoke. "She got upset with me, don't think too much about it".
"I've noticed, she can be very haughty... but never this." Ercole stated, genuinely disappointed by the truth that his boss's mother was the one harming his only daughter. "I'm guessing your father doesn't know"?
"He doesn't and please don't tell him, I don't want to upset him either. She's his mother." Hibaaq furrowed her eyebrows, pleading with her eyes to make sure that he would keep the matter between them and no one else. She grimaced at the image of her father's broad smile wiping away by the despondent news. "It would be too much for him." Only once Ercole reluctantly nodded in reassurance, did her tense shoulders slack with relief, though a flustered warmth spread out onto her face now that Ercole was aware of her estranged relationship with her grandmother.
Ercole, however, was too busy admiring her strength and resilience. Even through poor treatment, she always found a way to make one happy, preserving peace and bringing about an uplifting atmosphere in any room she entered.
She received beatings from her grandmother and took them with no complaint out of respect for her and the 'peace' in her family. It only showed just how much strength she held to withstand, springing back up as if nothing was wrong. Although, Ercole was filled with rage that she was being harmed, he had to trust her and in what Allah had planned. He would do anything to rectify the situation, but out of his own respect for Hibaaq, he would sit quiet for now but not for long. His being just couldn't stand for it.
"You have my word, but in return you have to promise me something." He proposed.
"Yes, of course."
"I understand you don't want your father knowing, but promise me you won't just sit and take it from now on. Run away if you have to, find me if you have to, I'm sure she won't touch you if I'm present." Ercole stated, leaning forward in his seat. Hibaaq grinned at him, finding his concern adorable, but she appreciated it. If only he knew Ayeeyo Warsam would seethe past her reaching, perhaps murder her and bury her limp body six feet under if she ever dared to dodge her wilful strikes.
"I promise". She agreed anyway.
As every other evening, the night was spent with tales of their childhood and stories of the world, as they squabbled as quietly as they could over trivial matters. Hibaaq had completely forgotten about the sharp words her grandmother threw at her like a dagger earlier and the pain in her cheek as she conversed with Ercole. Rather, it was near impossible to ignore the fact that Ercole was quickly growing on her.
Hibaaq had no idea what to do, but feel her heart becoming full as if she was missing something, missing this her entire life.
...
Can you tell I'm writing as I go ... 🧍🏽♀️
Kaalay cuntay- Come eat.