Harun's eyes searched for hope in his father's pale face as he lay tucked under the cotton sheets. His body was motionless, except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, an abnormal whistling sound accompanying it. His father was not recovering. As Harun glanced across the bed to where Abbas sat, he knew his youngest brother was hoping for the same as he.
They had both been urgently summoned to their parent's chambers after their father had suffered another fit. Since the poisoning, he was still coughing up blood, and his poor appetite meant there was nothing left of their father except the skin on his bones.
Beside Harun sat his mother, cradling her husband's gaunt hand in her own, eyes closed as she whispered prayers, rocking gently to and fro.
"Ibni,"
The small voice of his father snapped Harun's attention. He shuffled closer bringing his ear over his father's pale lips. Abbas did the same.
"Na'am Baba," Harun replied.
"I feel my time is coming to an end," Ilyaas slowly rasped, heaving for air after every few words.
A sob interrupted them. Abbas lifted his head to find tears pouring from his mother's closed eyes. She was still cupping his father's hand, her lips moving in silent plea.
"I can feel it," Ilyaas continued. "I can feel my energy seeping away, and when there is none left, next will be my soul,"
Harun felt his eyes sting. He lifted his gaze and found his father's eyes frozen on the bedframe above him.
"Baba," he pleaded but did not know what to say. It was clear as day. No words could console his father or himself.
"Allah Yarhamak," Abbas whispered.
"I am being punished, for what I did to my brothers, for Faris," Ilyaas exhaled.
Abbas sighed. "Baba, you had your reasons,"
Ilyaas shut his eyes.
"I turned him into a monster. I was so harsh on him when he was grieving, and now Allah is punishing me," He paused to inhale. "Much rather I receive the punishment of this world than the next,"
"No Baba, Allah only tests those He loves," Harun opposed.
Abbas nodded. "Indeed. He tests us to strengthen our faith in Him, and to purify us of our sins,"
Ilyaas dipped his chin in agreement.
Harun pressed his lips. He glanced over at his brother who met his eyes and nodded. Despite their father's poor condition, they had to ask, lest to rectify the issue.
"Baba," Harun called. "Abbas and I have been thinking about Am,"
He paused to gauge his father's reaction, but Ilyaas' eyes remained closed.
"Is it not time we decided on his punishment?" he ended.
A long pause drifted between them. Their mother lifted her head up and passed a frown between her sons.
The look of disdain on their mother's face made Abbas turn away, but he chimed in. "We know what the punishment is for treachery,"
Their father opened his eyes once more and shook his head.
"What makes you hesitant to fulfill it?" Harun prodded, aware of his mother's hand now on his lap in a warning.
"I cannot, imprisonment is enough," he answered.
"Baba, look what he has done to you," Abbas interrupted, his voice raising with emotion. "Look what he did to Ustad!"
"Abbas-" Humayra warned her anger quelling, but upon noticing the glassy film over his eyes, felt sympathy.
"Because of him, I have lost my father-in-law," Abbas gritted. "And soon my father,"
"Death is only by the will of Allah, Ibni. I cannot bear to do such a thing to my older brother, for I fear having to answer for it in front of our Lord,"
"But Baba, he was treacherous to you. Indeed, he is in the wrong,"
"And yet, I do not want to bear the burden of fulfilling his punishment,"
"But justice-"
"Justice will be served in the court of the Most Just, inshaAllah," Humayra concluded.
The brothers turned to their mother, whose melancholic eyes were gazing at her withering husband. She then looked at her sons with a somber smile.
"Your father needs to take his pain relievers and rest,"
Harun sighed but nodded. He leaned over and dropped a gentle kiss on his father's wrinkled forehead. "Afwan,"
Abbas did the same.
"We shall return after you have rested," Harun concluded.
"Bring your wives with you next time," Ilyaas rasped. "I fear I will not get to see my first grandchild,"
Abbas nodded, and they both exited.
Once the doors to their parent's chambers shut, the brothers sighed.
"What do we do?" Abbas asked.
"What can we do? Baba has decided," Harun answered. "And we must respect his decision,"
His brother ran his fingers through his scalp and sighed once more. "I guess,"
Abbas offered his brother to lead the way out, following behind him closely. Silence thrummed between them as they exited their parent's private quarters and headed toward the center of the palace.
"How are you getting on with the Princess?" Abbas enquired, his voice audible only to the two of them.
"All is well," Harun muttered.
"I hope so," Abbas said and silence drifted between them again. He wished he could see his brother's expression in the hope that it could further elaborate his words, but his brother kept up a swift pace ahead of him.
They got to a junction.
"We will have to part ways here," Harun announced, finally facing his younger brother.
Abbas nodded, scoping out for any emotion, but his brother's face was blank. It began to worry him. Harun was always the warmer one between the two of them.
His older brother patted him on his shoulder and turned to leave.
"Don't be so harsh on yourself Habibi," Abbas called out as his brother's figure distanced from him. "Whatever happens, happens,"
His brother waved in response before his body disappeared around a corner.
***
Harun craved comfort, and there was only one person who could ensure that. His feet directed him back to his chambers in the hope of finding his beloved wife. But as he approached his quarters, his ears pricked up, and he noticed more of the Palace staff were present than usual. They all nodded their respects and continued with their tasks.
Harun delved deeper in only to discover that they were all shifting items out of the room at the end of the hallway; Thaina's art room.
His heart shifted into a frenzied pace as he reached the room.
"What is going on? Why is the room being emptied?" He demanded.
The servants all paused in their movements and turned to find their king at the door. One of them - whom he recognized as Thaina's handmaid - came forward.
"Malik!" she gasped, lowering her gaze. " We have been ordered by Malika to clear the room,"
"Why?"
"Um-well," Lana mumbled, fiddling with her fingers.
"Well?" Harun pressed, impatience fueling his agitation.
"Sahiba Dalia is taking over the room,"
His eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of confusion, rising anger, and hurt. He couldn't understand why his wife would give away her most precious gift from him.
"What? Where is the Malika?" he ordered, searching around the room for her in vain. He exited, storming through all the remaining doors in his quarters, only to find them occupied by stillness and silence.
"She is not here, but she has ordered us to ensure the room switch is done by the end of today," Lana answered and his expression hardened.
If he couldn't find her for answers, he would go to the next person who had them. Infuriated and blinded by his anger, Harun stormed away without exchanging another word with anyone and headed straight to the Harem. When he entered, the female handmaidens all wore the same startled expression, but he ignored their assistance and strode around the turquoise pool to the chambers on the other end.
Dalia, having heard the sudden commotion, paused, and turned her head to the doorway as a maiden came rushing in.
"The Malik is here!" she had just announced when the King appeared behind her. She ducked away and exited.
Dalia and Meera lept up from the cushions.
"Malik! We did not know you were coming, otherwise, I would have prepared Sahiba-" Meera chortled.
"There is no need." He interrupted. "You may leave."
Meera lowered her head, glanced back at Dalia, then hurried past the gossamer partition.
Noticing the hardened expression on his face, Dalia froze.
"Malik-" she started, trying to smoothen her skirt.
Harun moved closer, leaving an arm's length between them.
Dalia's heart began to race and her mind began to-
"Why are your items being moved into Malika's painting room?"
Dalia's eyes widened, and her cheeks burned abashed at how her imagination had so easily painted absurd scenarios in her head. Had she indulged herself in too many romance novels that her mind had simply forgotten the circumstances of her marriage?
"The Malika kindly gifted it to me," she responded, regaining her composure.
"Were you not happy with the room I provided for you?" Harun urged, his voice lowering.
Bewildered by the confrontation, Dalia became enraged.
"Since you asked, no, I was not happy with the room-" she started, folding her arms over her chest.
"And so you decided to take over the Malika's room?"
"As I said before, she kindly gifted it to me," she scowled, her gaze unrelenting.
Harun's sharp eyes glowered back at her.
"She wouldn't have just gifted it," he declared.
"And why is that?" Dalia hissed, her frown deepening.
"Tell me the truth, did you say you wanted it?"
"Why is that a problem? If Malika did not want to give it, she could have just declined and I would have understood why. But she did not, nor did she argue against it!" Dalia objected, her fists curling at her sides.
"Because Thaina is not that type of person. She is too kind for her own good-" he stated.
"How is that my problem?" Dalia huffed, interrupting him. Tears began to speckle her eyes but her anger smoked them away.
"Because people like you use it for your own benefit, trampling a kind heart under their feet!" He thundered, regretfully aware of having raised his voice. He was never the type to let his anger spill unchecked, rather Abbas did so for the both of them, but there was something about the woman in front of him that brought it out of him.
He stepped back, shame snuffing out the flames of anger, as he created a greater distance between them.
Dalia felt his words pierce her heart like an arrow. Is that what he thought of her?
Harun turned away from her to leave when he felt a small, but firm hand, grip his arm.
"Might I remind you that I came here having left my home? What difference does it make if I request one room in the entire Palace that reminds me of it?"
Her words struck a spark and his anger only bloomed once more. Shrugging her hand off, Harun left the Harem without looking back.
***
Harun found himself standing in front of the doors to Thaina's painting room. He sighed, finally regaining control of his emotions as he stared at the ornament doors. He rested his hands upon them and pushed only to discover a visitor inside sitting by the grand windows, her back facing him as she stared out at the majestic landscape that was their home.
"Habibti," Harun choked, and when she turned to him with a sad smile, he felt his anger melt into nothingness. Slipping off his shoes, he dashed in and fell to his knees by her, engulfing her in a hug from behind.
"Why did you give this room away? The room I gifted you?" he mumbled, face buried in her shoulder.
"I gifted the room to someone else," she replied, shifting around so she could wrap her arms around him.
"But why? Do you not love it?" he asked, lifting his head to her. Just the sight of her made his heart melt; from her glossy dark locks that slipped out of her hijab to the love laced in her gaze as she looked at him.
She turned back to the scenery beyond the glass and smiled. "I do, but I would rather give to another what I love for myself,"
"Habibti-" Harun started, but Thaina raised a finger to his lips.
"Habibi, I apologize if my decision has hurt you, but you must know-" She elaborated, trailing her fingers down his face and neck until it rested just above his heart. "You have given me a greater gift that no one can ever take from me,"
"Why did you come here then?" Harun whispered.
"To appreciate the view one last time. Dalia was kind enough to let me,"
Harun gruffed in response.
Thaina pursed her lips. "Habibi, do you know what inclined me to accept her request?"
"Please tell me,"
"She had tears in her eyes,"
"So did you when you first saw it," Harun sighed.
Thaina shook her head. "No, it wasn't the same,"
"Then?"
"She told me it reminded her of her mother,"
"How so?" Harun enquired, unable to understand the link between a person and a landscape.
"I will leave you to ask her that yourself," Thaina sang, turning her eyes away from him.
"But what if she is lying about it?"
"Habibi, I can differentiate between sincerity and lies," she answered.
Harun sighed defeatingly. "You are sure about this?"
Thaina turned to him once more and placed her hand above his heart again.
"I am sure."
Glossary:
Ibni - My son
Na'am - Yes
Baba - Father
Allah Yarhamak - God have mercy on you
Ustad - Teacher/Mentor
InshaAllah - God willing
Afwan - Apologies/sorry
Habibi - My dear/ My love
Malik - King
Malika - Queen
Sahiba - Lady
Habibti - My love