When she made it into the foyer, Yaseerah had no intention of coming across her father or any occupant of the manor.
But in the end, what she wanted didn’t matter, because he was waiting for her right outside her bedroom door, his expression stoic, not betraying an ounce of his thoughts.
Yaseerah’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach as she stood rooted in her spot, dread and anxiety forcing her to lean against the wall for support.
It was only then as gravity threatened to pull her down that she remembered she hadn’t eaten anything since last night, which was a strange thought to have, when one was faced with their literal demise.
How long her father had been waiting for her was anyone’s guess and when she looked at Lubna for any clue, she was as always, entirely useless.
Lubna’s eyes darted between Yaseerah and her husband, a slight frown creasing her forehead but otherwise she made no attempt to be of any help.
Why Yaseerah had looked towards her for help was a mystery for another day.
“Good evening Father,” she greeted, her tone placid, dropping her chin demurely.
Abdul-Aziz Bako’s gaze darkened as he stared at his firstborn, noting her dressing–beige capelet, black pantsuit and black capelet–with disgust and fury. “Where have you been?”
A chill ran down her spine at his question, and Yaseerah grappled with a plausible excuse for where she could have gone to. She had no doubt her father knew about Mamu’s hospitalisation but she knew he wouldn’t care if she told him she needed time to come to terms with everything that had happened.
“I...” her eyes once again darted towards Lubna hoping this time, she would come to her rescue, but she avoided her gaze, standing firm besides her husband.
“Your phone, now!”
“Baba...” she began to say, the same time as Lubna called his name. “Abdul...”
“Stay out of this Lubna,” he cut her off, throwing a scathing glance her way, making shrink into herself, before he fixed his gaze on his daughter.
“I will not ask you again, Yaseerah.” His voice was lethally calm, and Yaseerah had no option but to surrender her device to him.
As the phone changed hands, her phone chimed with an incoming text message, making her recoil, as her father shot her a glance, before he read the message.
She could feel his eyes boring into her, when he was done reading whatever the message had said but she dared not glance at him.
The weight of judgment hung in the air between them, creating an oppressive silence in the hallway.
Risking a stolen glance, Yaseerah watched as he scrolled through her phone, his face never betraying any emotions.
Yaseerah had no idea what his intentions were, but when he locked eyes with her for an extended ominous moment, she knew she was done for.
Without uttering a single word, he returned the phone to her, and walked away, his silence echoing louder than any accusation, and for the first time in her life, Yaseerah wished he had raised his hands to her because his silence was far much lethal than any abuse she had suffered from him.
Glancing back at her phone with trepidation in her veins, Yaseerah read the message through the notification bar of her phone.
I haven’t lived long on this planet Yaseerah but you are by far the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. You have and will always be the only woman for me, just as the house will only ever be yours, whenever you’re ready. The passcode is your birthday.
•—۵—•
The acrid scent of antiseptic permeated the sterile white walls of the hospital hallway, assaulting Yaseerah’s senses as she lingered outside Mamu’s hospital room hours later, a wave of uncertainty gripping her firmly.
“Are you going to stand out there all day?” Mamu’s teasing voice snapped her back into the present, and every lingering doubt leeched out of her body, as she pushed open the door.
Fluorescent lights overhead cast a clinical yet gloomy glow, around the room, emphasizing the stark reality of her mother’s condition who was connected to different machines with tubes and wires.
The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor created a dissonant soundtrack, seeming to only increase the anxious beats in Yaseerah’s chest.
Yaseerah’s eyes traced the contours of her mother’s face, whose skin once full of warmth and strength, now had a sickly pallor, marked by the trials of illness.
“Hello Yaseerah,” Mamu offered Yaseerah a gentle smile.
Forcing the thoughts of Fulan, her marriage to Fou’ad and the inevitable blowback with her father to the deepest recesses of her mind, Yaseerah tried to focus on the one thing she could control; ensuring her mother got the best treatment possible.
“Hi Mamu, how are you feeling?” Yaseerah responded distractedly, her eyes scanning the room with the precision of a detective. “Why is it so cold in here?”
“I’m fine habibti, I look worse than I feel. The room is fine too.”
“Are you sure?” Yaseerah frowned. “This place feels like an iceberg. Maybe I should talk to someone here about the room temperature?” she mused, before she fixed her attention on Mamu. “Are you comfortable with the pillows, Mamu? Are they even soft? Have you even had anything to eat?”
“Everything is okay, habibti. Please sit down before you wear a hole in the floors.”
“I should’ve been back sooner,” Yaseerah scolded herself, guilt eating away at her, as her gaze flicked around the hospital room disapprovingly. “Where is Bilal?”
Mamu chuckled, the lines on her face revealing both amusement and exhaustion. “Yaseerah, I’m in good hands, you have nothing to about. One would think you’re my mother instead of the other way around.”
Ignoring the reassurance, and Mamu’s teasing, Yaseerah started rearranging the pillows, hissing under her breath. “We need to make you as cozy as possible, all things considered. Are you sure these pillows are okay? I can go home and get softer ones right now.”
“Sit down and relax Yaseerah.”
But Yaseerah wasn’t about to sit still. “Has Dr. Khatri been in? What did he say about your treatment options? I need to speak with him and ensure that everything goes smoothly.”
Mamu sighed, amused yet not surprised by her daughter’s relentless fussiness. “Yes, yes, he’s been here, along with others. Everything is under control, I promise.”
Yaseerah finally took a seat, but her eyes continued to scan the room. “Can you still take lavender tea? I should go and ask the nurses for a list of approved food options and...”
Mamu patted Yaseerah’s hand gently, halting her mid-rant. “Breathe, Yaseerah.”
“What?” Yaseerah’s expression was comical as she stared at her mother.
“Just breathe,” Mamu inhaled deeply, urging Yaseerah to do the same.
With a sigh, Yaseerah did as Mamu bidded, strangely finding the exercise relieving.
“Have you eaten Yaseerah?” Mamu asked, her lips thinning into a disapproving line as she appraised her daughter. “You look like you’re about to kilt over.”
“I’m not hungry,” Yaseerah responded distractedly, skepticism in her tone, looking antsy, her left knee bouncing slightly. “Are you sure that you’re comfortable?”
“Yaseerah,” Mamu called out gently, holding Yaseerah’s face in her hands and forcing her to look into her eyes. “What is going on with you?”
“Noth...”
“Don’t lie to me, Yaseerah. I know you, and I know that something is eating away at you. I’m your mother, if you can’t trust me enough to share your burden with me, who will you trust?”
Mamu dropped her hand away, and Yaseerah immediately missed her warmth, even as she looked away. Guilt and shame warred within her, as she fought to find the right words to say.
“You have the glow of a bride-to-be Yaseerah but your eyes...” Mamu trailed off, sighing sadly, and Yaseerah’s head snapped up, meeting Mamu’s gaze. “Your eyes tell a different story. You look like you’re mourning, Yaseerah. Who is he?”
The pain in Mamu’s voice made the guilt twist in her gut much more painfully, as shame made her bow her head down, a lone tear escaping from her eyes.
“How do you know?” Yaseerah whispered, unable to look her mother in the eye.
“Call it a mother’s intuition.”
A weighted silence blanketed them, which was only broken by Yaseerah’s sniffle.
“Oh habibti,” Mamu’s voice broke, as she shuffled forward, ignoring the pain in her bones, and embracing Yaseerah in her arms.
“I’m so sorry, Mamu,” Yaseerah’s sobs intensified, her fingers gripping Mamu’s arms with a desperation as if clinging to the only lifeline she could find. “I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for habibti,” Mamu soothed, her voice breaking as she blinked back her own tears.
She held Yaseerah for so long and let her cry out, never saying a word, only offering her a comforting shoulder, and rubbing her shoulder soothingly.
When Yaseerah’s sobs began to subside, Mamu gently pulled away, wiping Yaseerah’s tears away with the backs of her hand. “Tell me, habibti,” Mamu encouraged softly, her eyes reflecting a profound mix of concern and deep unyielding love for her daughter. “Tell me what burdens your heart.”
Caught in a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, Yaseerah hesitated, her thoughts racing a mile a minute. Gaze fixed firmly on her lap, her voice was a fragile whisper as she confessed, “I... I don’t want to get married, Mamu, not to someone that I don’t love. And I...” she trailed off, unable to vocalize the painful reality about Fulan.
Mamu’s gaze held a depth of compassion, as her fingers delicately continued to wipe away Yaseerah’s tears. “Love is not always where we expect it,” she said softly, her tone wistful, as if she was taking a trip down memory lane. “Sometimes, it’s a journey, a discovery.”
And I found it in someone I could never have, Yaseerah thought, as more tears poured down from her eyes.
“Oh, dear girl,” Mamu’s voice broke, her heart twisting with the clear anguish etched across Yaseerah’s face.
“Habibti,” Mamu whispered, her eyes wet with unshed tears, her voice a tender caress that soothed the pain in Yaseerah’s heart. “I wish I could change this for you. But, even if we can’t openly rejoice in the love you’ve found, it doesn’t diminish its worth. And always remember, Allah does not burden a soul with more than it can bear.
“I can’t change the path set before you, but I’ll walk it with you. You are not alone in this, habibti...”
“And you never will be,” Bilal interrupted, making Yaseerah’s head swivel, because she hadn’t heard him come in.
“We will always have each other, in shaa Allah.” The three of them vowed, smiling at each other through the tears.
“Ohana,” Yaseerah and Bilal said together, as he ate up the distance between them, and encircled both Mamu and Yaseerah into a hug.