The fragrant aroma of beef stew filled the air, its scent wafting along the kitchen and carrying into the other rooms, as Yaseerah bustled around the room, mixing around different contents into a bowl, before she headed towards the simmering pot on the stove.
As she stirred the pot, her mind, however, was far from the dishes she was making, and focused entirely on her actions in the last couple of days.
She couldn’t shake the guilt that had settled over her heart like a heavy shroud, neither could she stop thinking about the consequences of her actions.
Bilal stood silently at the threshold of the kitchen watching her, his brows furrowing deeper into a frown, the more he took in the dishes covering the island, and the distant look in her eyes, even as she focused squarely on her tasks.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Yaseerah jumped, startled by the intrusion, as she turned towards the source of the voice.
Her heart was pounding wildly against her chest as their eyes locked, his filled with genuine concern, while hers were harboring guilt and secrets she couldn’t share with him, for fear of judgement.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she uttered, as she settled the ladle down.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he repeated gently, as he moved closer into the kitchen.
“Talk about what?”
Avoiding his gaze, Yaseerah turned back to the stew, guilt still gnawing at her insides, having no idea how to answer him, without revealing the wrongs she’d done in the last couple of days.
“You’re cooking,” he stated, crossing his arms across his chest, as he watched her pretend to be preoccupied with the bowl of unfinished fruit salad.
“It’s Thursday,” she responded dismissively. “I always cook iftar on Thursdays.”
Bilal rolled his eyes at her avoidance tactic, but he decided to prob further, knowing that if he didn’t make her talk then whatever was eating at her would eventually overtake her and cause her to panic or hurt herself more in the process.
“You’re stress cooking,” he pointed out. “It’s too early to start prepping for iftar. Besides, it’s just the three of us.”
“I could always give it out to the maids or the security guards,” she shrugged, still avoiding eye contact. “Have you noticed there are more of them around these days?”
“You’re not wearing makeup today.”
“What’s this?” Yaseerah scoffed, her gaze momentarily meeting his before she casted it away. “An interrogation?”
“If the shoe fits.”
It was Yaseerah’s turn to roll her eyes, as she rinsed her hands in the sink before wrapping a foil paper around the bowl of fruits and storing it in the refrigerator.
“You’re wearing my hoodie, and sweatpants.”
“I always wear your hoodie when I’m here,” she shrugged, even as her heart continued to race viciously. “Or do you want it back?”
Unperturbed by her dismissal, Bilal pressed. “You have bags under your eyes, your face is scrubbed free of makeup and you look like you haven’t slept in a while. Judging by the fresh bandages on your palms, I’d say whatever happened to stress you out occurred sometime between last night and this morning. So, I’ll ask you again, do you want to talk about it?”
Yaseerah’s lips parted on instinct to deny all of what he said but light scuffling from the adjacent hall made her clamp her lips shut, as she turned her attention back onto the kitchen island.
“Your phone’s been ringing nonstop,” Mamu uttered as she came into view, blissfully unaware of the tension between her children.
Relieved by the interruption, Yaseerah feigned a smile, hoping it would hide her inner turmoil. “That’s probably just the girls,” she replied, waving off the incessant ringing of her phone as if it were an everyday occurrence. “They’re upset about the lack of events for the wedding.”
Subtly, she blinked away the eyes that had welled up in her eyes, hoping neither Bilal nor Mamu would be able to guess at what was eating at her.
Mamu, always perceptive, gave her a concerned look but didn’t press further. Instead, she silently observed the multitude of dishes lining the kitchen island.
Bilal, however, seemed unconvinced. “The girls?” he repeated with a raised eyebrow.
Yaseerah nodded, reaching for the pot holders to check on the stew, her heart still pounding. “Instead of interrogating me all day, why don’t you help me with the meal prep? Or better yet, go and study.”
“Bilal can you ask Lubna for the pills she said she’d send over? I think she’s forgotten about them,” Mamu said softly, as she moved to the stove and switched it off, steering Yaseerah out of the kitchen.
“Lubna? Really? Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“What if they’re poisoned?” he asked, as he followed them into the living room.
“Hush now boy,” Mamu dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand. “Go and get those pills, my head’s starting to ache.”
That got him to shut up, and he turned swiftly, leaving the house without another word of objection.
“Now, do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?” Mamu asked Yaseerah gently, cupping a shaky hand over her chin.
“I’m fine Mamu, no need to worry.”
“Yaseerah.”
Yaseerah sighed, because talking it out with her mother was the last thing she wanted to do.
A sob almost slipped out of her lips but somehow, she held it in, long enough to engulf herself in the petite woman’s embrace.
Mamu gave the best hugs, and it was only in her arms that she was able to find true solace.
“Oh Yaseerah,” Mamu uttered softly, when she released her and stepped back to take a good look at her, but still not breaking the connection between them. “I wish there was something I could do to get you away from him.”
“I’m fine Mamu,” she offered her a smile, even though it physically pained her to do so. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“You shouldn’t have to handle it Yaseerah, you’re just a kid,” Mamu shook her head. “I should have known that...”
“Really Mamu,” Yaseerah interrupted, her gaze wandering back to the kitchen where she still had stuff to work through. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look it,” she responded, brushing her hand through Yaseerah’s hair, as they took a seat on the sofa in the living room.
“I know. Just... Let’s not do anything that will draw his attention to you, Mamu. I need you to still be here, both of you.”
“Sometimes I find myself feeling happy that Aisha isn’t here to witness how much of a monster he’s become. I don’t think there’s anything in the world that could break her as much as this would.”
Yaseerah’s lips parted, unsure of what to say. There was a part of her that agreed with Mamu, but another part of her sometimes wished her mother was alive so she could see the monster she left her daughter with.
Bilal’s return put a stop to the gloomy atmosphere, as he held up a small bag with his fingers, as if it were poison.
“I got the pills, Mamu,” he announced, taking the attention away from the heavy atmosphere. “But I promised Lubna she’d hear from me if they were somehow sabotaged. Honestly, I have no idea why you’d trust anything that came from her.”
Mamu chuckled, and Yaseerah couldn’t help but grin at the absurdity of the situation. “Paranoia still runs in the family, I see,” Yaseerah teased, her earlier tension beginning to melt away.
Bilal feigned innocence. “It’s Lubna, you can’t be too careful.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Yaseerah rolled her eyes, adjusting her position on the sofa so her head was now leaning on Mamu’s shoulder. “I don’t think she’s as bad as we thought she was.”
“Really now?” Bilal gasped dramatically, earning another chuckle from Mamu. “Did you hit your head in the kitchen.”
“No,” Yaseerah smiled sweetly, as she leaned up and snatched the bag from him. “But I’m about to hit yours if you don’t stop with the questions.”
Bilal rolled his eyes as he plopped down on the free sofa, his eyes darting towards the kitchen. “So, now that you’re settled, what’s for dinner?”
Yaseerah decided to play along. “Rice and beef stew,” she replied with a grin. “I’m just hoping it’s safe to eat though.”
“Maybe we should let Bilal try it first,” Mamu suggested, and they all shared a laugh.
Bilal pretended to look worried. “But what if it really isn’t safe? At least feed me some dessert first.”
Yaseerah and Mamu let out a light laugh, which was a welcome relief from the earlier tension, as Yaseerah threw a pillow at him.
As they chatted and continued to tease each other, it felt like a temporary escape from the weight of her situation, and for a while, she allowed herself to enjoy the simplicity of the moment, until a knock at the door interrupted them.
“Who do you think it is?” Bilal whispered, as the three of them exchanged glances, neither of them making a move to answer the door.
For all the years they’ve lived there, no one had ever come to visit them, except for Yaseerah’s father who came with trouble on occasions he didn’t bother to wait to mete out his punishments at the manor, whenever either of them misbehaved.
“The general?” Yaseerah whispered in the same hushed tone Bilal was using.
Mamu remained quiet, pressing a hand over her head, her eyes momentarily flicking shut as she whispered some du’as to ease her pain.
Yaseerah stared at her for a long moment, before she stood up and headed for the door.
“Wait here,” she told Bilal, her gaze flicking towards Mamu who now leaned against the sofa.
When she made it to the door, Yaseerah stared through the peephole, her brows pinching into a frown before she opened it only an inch to allow her see the visitor more clearly.
“What are you doing here?”
“Is that how to talk to a friend?” Nadia’s smile was coy, as she arched an elegant brow in silent mockery.
Yaseerah glanced back towards the living room, before she made the decision to step outside, closing the door firmly.
“What are you doing here?” she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest, not in the mood to play mind games with Nadia.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in? I thought you had better manners than this?”
“What do you want Nadia?”
Nadia rolled her eyes, as she shoved the bouquet of flowers she was holding, against Yaseerah’s chest.
“I met a delivery guy outside, I signed off on the receipt, you’re welcome. I think they’re from your friend,” Nadia’s tone was suggestive, and if it weren’t for Yaseerah’s upbringing, she would have scratched her nails against her face, just to get rid of that smug look on her face.
Yaseerah stared at the bouquet in her hand, the scent of freesia hitting her nostrils, as she tried to identify the flowers in the bouquet, and who it could’ve come from.
Surely, Fulan wouldn’t be stupid enough to send flowers to her house especially after yesterday, right?
A vibrant assortment of blue delphiniums, crimson and ivory roses, freesia and delicate pink tulips, along with other flowers she couldn’t name filled up the bouquet, and it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
A note fell from the bouquet, and Yaseerah bent to pick it up, her heart racing wildly against her chest, while Nadia silently observed her.
The note simply read, ‘I’m sorry, ~F’ in an elegant gold swirl that made her immediately think of her wedding invitation.
Guilt, disbelief, along with other unidentifiable emotions washed through her, and for a moment, Yaseerah became lost in her thoughts, until a loud thud from inside had her rushing in, all thoughts of the flower and the sender vanishing from her mind, as Bilal’s shrill scream filled the air.