Yaseerah never would have anticipated Amina Bello would evolve into a close confidant of hers, certainly not in this lifetime or the next, despite them growing up together.
If anyone had told her that she would be calling the girl at nine o’clock in the morning after a night of restless sleep, she would have laughed in their faces.
But it seemed like ever since meeting Fou’ad, she was unraveling in ways she couldn’t fathom, and doing things she never would have thought she was capable of doing.
So, there she was, dressed in sweatpants, a hoodie, and a pashmina scarf–to ward off the cold–and without a stitch of makeup on her face, cradling a cup of hot chocolate tea, as she waited for her cousin to arrive.
Yaseerah had no idea why she thought asking Amina to come over was a good idea, but she had a feeling it had something to do with the remorse weighing heavily on her conscience.
Fou’ad’s words still echoed in her head, making her heart clench painfully. Blowing out a breath, she tried to think of anything that didn’t centre around Mamu, Bilal or Bilal, refusing to let herself dwell on those kinds of thoughts.
The oily feeling churning in her stomach and the heaviness in her heart were fast becoming a nuisance, and she needed unbiased assistance in processing her thoughts, and emotions.
Yaseerah jumped, her grip on the cup tightening momentarily, when she heard the intercom buzz, the unexpected sound reverberating through the quiet house.
Anxious steps carried her to the door, her shoulders slumping slightly, disappointment casting a shadow over her features, when her brother-in-law’s face showed on the panel.
Reluctantly, Yaseerah pressed the intercom button, concealing her disappointment by biting her lip, as she deactivated the alarm and opened the door for him.
“Expecting someone else?” he stated in lieu of greeting.
When she only blinked at him before stepping back to allow him entry, Abbad clicked his tongue as he took off his shoes by the door. “Sorry to disappoint.”
Yaseerah rolled her eyes, as she turned back to reactivate the alarm, knowing that she could no longer avoid him.
“I don’t know if your brother’s awake yet,” she stated in a polite tone, as she ushered him past the foyer. “But you can go up and check. I’ll just be on my way.”
“Nice try,” he chuckled dryly. “But I came here for you.”
His words had her tensing, before she released a long suffering sigh, eyeing him sideways. “I’m not good company right now,” she forced a smile, as she ushered him in.
“When have you ever?” he quipped, earning a strangled laugh from her, because he was right.
And it hurt, way more than she was willing to admit. “Whatever,” she sniffed, earning a snicker from him.
Abbad studied her profile for a moment, knowing there was more beneath the surface. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I have?” she questioned, sassiness dripping from her tone as she led him into the kitchen. “What gave that away?”
“I would’ve thought we were past this point, Yaseerah.”
Yaseerah only hummed at his response, making herself busy in the kitchen. “I made coffee,” she said, motioning to the French press on the marble countertop.
“I also made tea because I couldn’t decide on what I wanted, there’s also hot chocolate, if you’re more inclined to the stuff,” she added, avoiding his gaze as she turned and grabbed a mug and saucer from the cabinet, dropping them in front of him.
“What happened there?” he asked softly, like he was reluctant to say anything else, his gaze fixed on the fading handprint across her cheek.
“A parting gift from Daddy dearest,” she remarked dryly, as she pulled the scarf over her face, hiding the bruise. “I’ve got a necklace to match it.”
“Yaseerah!” Abbad’s eyes widened, terror gripping every inch of him. Surely she couldn’t mean...
“Sorry,” she shrugged nonchalantly, swirling the hot chocolate in her mug. “Bad joke.”
“Subhanallah Yaseerah,” Abbad shook his head, still appalled by the idea of what her father had done to her.
“Water under the bridge,” she shrugged again.
“Have you ever considered talking to someone about all this, Yaseerah? A counselor, maybe?”
She raised an eyebrow, her indifference returning. “I don’t need a therapist to dissect my life, Abbad. I’ve got it under control.”
Abbad sighed, knowing that breaking through her walls wouldn’t be easy, and in that moment he wondered if he wasn’t reaching too much, considering she was his sister-in-law and not his spouse. “You know that you’re no longer alone right? You don’t have to bear the weight alone, Yaseerah.”
Yaseerah’s response was a hum, her gaze fixed on the countertop.
“You’re not as unbreakable as you want everyone to believe.”
“Harsh,” she mumbled, as she drained the last of her hot chocolate, earning another snicker from Abbad.
Heaving a sigh, Yaseerah took a moment to pour herself another cup of hot chocolate, ignoring Abbad, as he poured himself coffee.
Tilting her head to the side, she studied him for a while, sticking her tongue to the roof of her mouth, as she pondered on what to say to him.
“Do you remember the promise you made to me when we met, two years ago?”
Abbad’s brows rose, as he took a sip of his coffee. “I do,” he nodded, his curiosity piqued. “Is this about the day before? Surely you know that Fou’ad would never do—”
“I know that he will not intentionally hurt me, physically, or otherwise,” she cut him off, her body tense before she relaxed a bit. “But life sucks,” she stated, factually. “While he may have no desire to hurt me, and believe me, I trust him more than I do anyone, we can’t control what happens around us. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it is that we don’t control our futures.”
Abbad’s eyes were narrowed as he listened to her, her indifference and her factual tone tugging at something in him. He would forever sound like a broken record but whenever he looked at her, all he had to say was she is too damn young.
“Does that text message have anything to do with your bruises, Yaseerah?”
When she didn’t reply, he got his answer. Heaving a sigh, Abbad leaned against the counter, rubbing at his temple where he could feel a headache blossoming. “I thought you didn’t want to make waves with your father, what changed? Why—”
“I fell in love with a man who made me feel alive.”
Abbad blinked, stunned by her admission and the matter of fact way she announced her falling in love.
“Who?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as he thought about how heartbroken his younger brother would be, if he ever found out the woman he had married was in love with someone else.
“Who do you think?” Yaseerah huffed, catching his gaze. “I met your brother at the stables three weeks ago, and the rest they say is history.”
“Wow,” he whistled. “I knew he was up to something.”
“But why did you send the message if you two are in love?”
“Complications.” An understatement, but Abbad didn’t need to know the full story.
“Love has a way of complicating things,” he remarked dryly, catching her gaze.
“Well, my life’s already complicated, Abbad. Might as well add love to the mix.” Though she shrugged nonchalantly as she took a sip of her hot chocolate, when her eyes met his, the indifference had melted away, revealing a hint of vulnerability he rarely saw in her.
“Anyway, back to the topic at hand. I have a favor to ask.”
“What kind of favor?”
Yaseerah’s gaze was on the countertop, tracing delicate patterns on it, as she tried to word her request properly. “I have some jewelry I need to sell, and I need your help in doing it.”
Abbad straightened at her words, his mind racing, as he processed her unusual request. “Are you in trouble, Yaseerah?”
“No,” she laughed, but it lacked any hint of mirth. “Mamu’s sick, and I need to pay for her medical bills.”
“You don’t have to sell your jewelry, Yaseerah,” his tone softened. “Fou’ad will gladly pay off her bills, you know. I told you that you aren’t alone anymore, and I mean it. Even I will pay your mother’s—”
“Thank you,” she cut him off, her voice terse. “But this is something I need to do on my own, I hope you understand.”
“Yaseerah—”
“She’s my mother, Abbad,” her lips wobbled, Bilal’s accusations echoing through her mind. “If I can’t pay for her medical bills then what’s my purpose?” Especially since I’m the reason why she no longer has medical insurance. Perhaps Bilal was right, her savior complex was stemming from guilt.
“Okay,” Abbad nodded. “But know that I do this under duress.”
Yaseerah giggled at his expression, which turned into a full-blown laugh, when he crossed his arms across his chest and pouted like a three year old.
“Do you know what would help immensely? If the old man just died and left me my inheritance,” she stated conversationally.
Abbad who had taken a sip of his coffee choked on it, his eyes widening as he stared at her.
“I would have to share with Amna and her mother of course but at least I won’t have to scavenge for money to pay for Mamu’s bills,” she continued, ignoring Abbad as he coughed and spluttered.
“Yaseerah!” he chided, as he grabbed napkins to clean himself up.
“Another bad joke,” she chuckled wryly, making him tut, as he shook his head repeatedly.
“You’ve changed,” Abbad spoke softly, cutting into her laughter. “There’s a lightness about you that...” he trailed off, trying to find the right word to say.
“Your brother’s influence,” she responded, her voice just as soft as his, as she picked up her mug, a fond smile gracing her lips. “He’s turned me into a crybaby too.”
It was Abbad’s turn to laugh now, as he picked up his lukewarm coffee. “Crying is humane,” he pointed out, as he took a hearty sip from his mug.
“It’s a nuisance,” she quipped, her pout adding a touch of humor to her words, making Abbad snicker, as he drained his coffee.
“Am I interrupting something?” Fou’ad’s tone carried an edge to it that had all traces of humor wiped from Yaseerah’s face.
Abbad’s gaze flickered between the newlyweds, sensing a tension that lingered beneath the surface between them. “Just catching up.”
“I see that you are still here,” Fou’ad quipped, his gaze hard on Yaseerah.
The intercom buzzed, saving Yaseerah from processing the burning in her chest at his words.
Ignoring him, she shot Abbad a tight-lipped smile. “That must be Amina, it was great catching up with you, Abbad. I’ll send you details about the things, when I’ve procured them. And thank you.”
Not bothering to wait for his reply, she dashed out of the kitchen, Fou’ad’s gaze trailing behind her.
“Go easy on her Fou’ad, she’s been through—”
“Focus on your own relationship, and stop meddling into mine,” Fou’ad snapped, cutting Abbad off.
When his outburst was met with silence, Fou’ad realized his mistake, and he hung his head low, shame and guilt expanding in his lungs.
“I’m sorry,” he blew out a breath, remorse loud in his voice. “I didn’t mean it. I’m just... We had a fight, and it’s unfair to take it out on you.”
Abbad only shook his head, as he rose from the stool, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “Come and let me out, I need to get going.”
“Abbad, I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, we all have our moments,” Abbad said, a touch of sympathy in his eyes.
Fou’ad nodded, still wrestling with guilt and shame at snapping at his brother, as they walked toward the door, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension.
As he watched Abbad put on his shoes, Fou’ad hesitated before speaking. “I messed up,” Fou’ad admitted, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I feel like I’ve lost her.”
Abbad sighed, his expression softening. “Relationships are complex. It takes effort from both sides. And with Yaseerah? You have to be patient, she’s...delicate. It’s not always going to be easy, but it’s going to be worth it in the end.”
Fou’ad nodded, gratitude and regret etched on his face. “Thank you, brother.”
Abbad turned to his brother. “Take care of her, Fou’ad. She’s been through a lot.”
Fou’ad met his brother’s eyes, a mix of determination and vulnerability in his gaze. “I will.”
***