Part 9 –Miss Independent
"Indeed Allah has heard the statement of her that disputes with you concerning her husband, and complains to Allah. And Allah hears the argument between you both. Verily, Allah is All-Hearer, All-Seer."
– Aayah No. 1, Surah Al-Mujadilah
Maleeha jumped awake. The cold kiss of the of nightmare still surrounded her, as much as the darkness that kept itself wrapped itself around her which did nothing except for intensifying her fears. She scrambled against the cool wall and clutched a pillow to her chest, while she leaned down, resting her head on it as she read Ayatul Kursi quietly.
Slowly, she felt the fear dissipate and her heart felt lighter already as she took deep breaths; in and out. Once she felt better, calmer, she glanced around the room. Her eyes settled on Zaakir's peaceful sleeping form. He was on the bed opposite hers, his long arms looked bare as they were tucked underneath his pillow as he laid on his stomach with one of his long, muscular legs dangling off the edge of the bed. Despite not wanting to, Maleeha smiled, because he looked like a little boy while sleeping, although he was more than a little overgrown. He looked adorable, and innocent, and yet Maleeha shook her head of wanting to take a picture of him. The flash could wake him up, and keeping that picture would soften her heart towards him.
She took her eyes off his cute sleeping form, and noticed that on top of the table, next to the two burger boxes that she ordered for them, there were two long, white polystyrene boxes. A genuine smile took over her face as her eyes softened. "May Allah reward you," she whispered smiling in his general direction.
After Maleeha came home, she cried out her anger, then made her Salaah and went to lie down since Zaakir was the one who carried all her shopping bags –every single one, including the one with her books. She assumed that he had dumped it all in his fancy black SUV and disappeared for hours on end. She was slightly upset at first that he left her alone for so long without much to do, but as soon as she saw the food he brought her, her heart melted a bit.
Was there a slight possibility that Zaakir was ...sweet?
She shook her head, dispelling that thought. No. Zaakir was not sweet; he had to be doing this with some or other ulterior motive in mind. Maybe to keep her pliable in his hands? To keep her soft towards him, and then once he gains her complete trust he will just shatter her completely? She could not allow him to shatter her, to hurt her again. While she may have no feelings whatsoever for Yahya, she won't forget his betrayal. However, her grumbling stomach disrupted her thoughts, but she knew one thing was certain, she could not allow herself to think of him of anything other than a sharp minded, manipulative and cunning businessman.
As it grumbled again, she pressed her hand to it and debated whether it was worth it to actually get out of bed and fetch it, or stay lazy and see how far she could go without falling off the bed. "Shush!" she hushed her growling stomach, with that last growl, she decided to crawl to the far end of the bed and then stretch as far as she can go to grab her half eaten burger. She leaned over slightly more and then grabbed her box. With a triumphant smile, she crawled back happily to her proper place and then opened the key to her short lived happiness.
After she ate her cold burger, she put the empty container in the bin and went back to sleep. They were leaving in the morning, and she didn't want to be late. When morning came –when Fajr came –Maleeha pressed the lower bit of her palms into her eyes, rubbed it and then got up and ready to read Salaah. She looked and found that Zaakir was still sleeping.
With a sigh, she looked for something that she could poke him with, but without actually touching him. There was nothing. "Zaakir," she said softly. "Zaakir! Zaakir, wake up. It's fajr time."
Although she might not like him, but for better or worse, she agreed to marry him, and she wanted to go to Jannah and half of that opportunity sat in the sleeping man. Dreading it, she got off her bed and went to shake him slightly. "Zaakir! Zaakir!" she said shaking him, although she was beginning to get annoyed with him. She shook him a couple of times again, calling his name, until he scared her. He grabbed her hand and cradled it and then he tugged her to his body and wrapped his arms around her. She shrieked as she fell onto his bed and his arms.
Zaakir woke up with a shock and stared at her accusingly. "What are you doing on the floor by my bed?"
She huffed at his accusingly tone. "What are you doing with my hand?" she countered arrogantly, ignoring the fact that she hadn't even thought about neatening her bed head. He looked down, and found that while she was on the floor, closest to his bed, he was actually holding her hand quite tightly. Not to mention, his fingers were entwined with hers.
Like a poison burning his hand, he let go. "That still doesn't explain what you're doing in my bed," he said coldly.
She took her hand and stood up, glaring daggers down at him. "It is fajr time. I thought I would be nice enough to wake you up. I guess I learned my lesson," she said and turned her back on him to tidy up her bed.
There was silence between them, tension grew in the air. Maleeha wasted time tidying her bed and fixing her hair up, she didn't want to go into the bathroom and then have him rush her. She needed him to leave, or stay, whichever he decided so that she could make her Salaah. "Are you okay?" she heard him ask her softly.
"Fine," she answered coldly. "Please just hurry up." Although she answered him, she could not wonder why he would ask her that question.
"Okay."
Once she was alone in the room, she dashed to the bathroom, had a shower and then made her wudhu, dressed and began making her salaah. When she was done, Zaakir returned and found her packing her bags. "Oh, good," he said dryly. "Be done by the time I am done showering. We'll leave immediately."
"Jazakallah," she told him, quietly.
Shocked, he turned around. "What for?"
"The food you bought."
"Oh. And to you too. I don't know why you did it."
Her anger flared. Why would she do it? Because she is a human with feelings. She rolled her eyes at him, but continued to pack and tidy her bags. With a smile, she slid her feet into the new pair of Converse.
Zaakir walked out of the bathroom, in jeans but shirtless and with a towel in his hand that he was using to dry his hair. Maleeha blushed and turned around. "Are you done?" he asked her gruffly.
"Yep," she answered, thankful that he voice sounded normal.
"Did you have breakfast yet?"
"No," she answered. "The pasta you brought is too heavy for breakfast."
"But I told you to be done by the time I came out of the shower," he sighed irritably.
"Well," she said dropping what she had in her hand and turned around, her hands firmly on her hips. "I am not hungry, and again, that food is way too early to eat before 10 AM."
"Maleeha," he said softly as he sat on the bed –this time he was properly attired –and pulled on his socks. "You need to have breakfast, okay?" He raised an eyebrow at her, ascertaining whether she had understood or not.
She rolled her eyes at him. "Why do you care? After all, you left me all alone last night! For hours on end. I was bored! Bored to death. And all alone in this damn hotel with nothing to do, nowhere to go. But you didn't care, did you? Mister Fancy Pants, Hot Shot Businessman didn't care that I was bored here while he was having fun!"
He leaned back, surprised at her outburst, but he bit back his smile. "You told me to leave you alone," he pointed out calmly.
She slapped her forehead in annoyance and then dropped her arms dramatically to her side and she huffed and sat on the bed. "Damn it! You were irritating me Zaakir. At that time, I was just so annoyed, I needed a bit of space." It was at that moment, that she realised that if she and Zaakir did not try to be patient with one another, they may never have a shot at having a lasting relationship, a long marriage.
They were both very stubborn, and obviously brought up differently. She was brought up with only her sister and her parents for companionship. Once her sister left, she was spoiled rotten, both from her sister and her parents. She was spoiled, getting all the attention, her having a lot more freedom than one might expect, but she knew when to draw the line. However, being with Zaakir, he didn't understand her. They never truly interacted much –and when they did, it only ended in a disaster. She then decided to be more patient, understanding and try to see things from his side.
Later, they would have to iron out a few things.
"I'm sorry, but you need to understand that I am not one of your employees –" Zaakir cut her off with a devilish grin.
"Obviously not, with them I still can escape. But with you, I'm stuck. We're married," he said with a nasty tone.
She flinched. His words were not hurtful, but his icy tone was bitter. "Do you want an escape?" she asked in a flat, quiet and emotionless tone. He stared at her, but said nothing. "Zaakir," she said coldly. "Do you want an escape?"
He studied her. Her eyes were wide open, but cold and closed off. She showed not a speck of emotion, except for her cold tone. Her face looked extremely pale and he could see that she was dead serious. The kohl around her eyes made her expression even more serious. When she crossed her arms, he knew he was in trouble. He hurt her again, even though he promised himself that he would never hurt her again. "Zaakir," her tone changed back to being completely detached and emotionless. "I'll make it easy on you. Leave me here, in this deadbeat town. When you want to go back to Johannesburg, phone me and I'll take a flight there. You won't need to worry about me."
"Maleeha, I –" she held up a hand, stopping him.
"Look, don't bother. I have the money that Hector gave me, the R25 000 that he organised for me. I'll be okay." She took her fingers and combed her hair out of her face then she unwound the hair tie around her hair and tied it up. "I'm a big girl. I know how to be independent."
"For the love of business!" he said irritably. He hit his hands on the mattress he was sitting on. "Just stop your nonsense! You are coming on this trip with me right to the end. Forget all this 'Miss Independent' nonsense of yours. I said, we are doing it together, and we will see it through to the end together. And that money that your friend sent you, you can give it back to him! I'll give you whatever you want!" he exploded angrily.
She crossed her arms adamantly as she defiantly stared at him. "I don't have to. My money is my money. I can do with it whatever I chose to do!"
"It is not exactly yours," he said softly, almost as slyly as a fox, his words soft steel. "He borrowed it to you, on condition that you return it to him."
"Well that doesn't matter now. He has given it to me now. Besides, I have more than that in my bank account that I was unable to access." She gave him a sour but accusing look.
"Well, I am your husband, and you have to do what I say!" he said forcibly, angrily. His words and cold tone left no room for fighting.
"Yes, master," she spat out nastily and stood up to get ready.
Zaakir looked at her and wanted to say something, but her tensed demeanour let him know that she didn't want to speak to him. With that, he picked up their bags and walked out of the room.
Maleeha sank to the floor as soon as he left and held her knees tightly, wanting to keep her tears at bay. It didn't help. She started crying. Tears ran down her face freely and she did nothing to stop them. She missed her parents terribly and she hadn't spoken to them in days, and she had never before been away from home without speaking to them. She went to visit her sister often, but then she was surrounded by her sister and her brother-in-law and they spoiled her with affection and attention and love. But never had she been away from her home without her parents knowing that she was safe and without her knowing that they were okay.
Running away from home –albeit with her husband –was not a mature decision. It was now something that she regretted deeply. How could she have been so irresponsible? She knew her mother was sick, but now she ran away. How was her mother? Was her father handling it without her? Was her mother worse?
With all the questions plaguing her head, Maleeha only felt worse and guiltier. By the time Zaakir returned to the room, Maleeha applied on makeup, more makeup than she had put on in her life. She put on foundation and covered up the fact that she was crying earlier by putting on thick, black rings around her eyes.
He avoided looking at her when he walked into the room. "Are you ready to go and have breakfast?" he asked her.
"I don't need to eat," she answered him quietly. Then she spitefully added on, "Master." She saw how he visibly flinched away from her after hearing that word.
"Then why are we wasting time? Let's go, we're on a schedule."
Just to add to his discomfort, she answered him and followed him out of the door, checking to see that she had everything before leaving. "Yes, Master."
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Salaam! I didn't even plan on updating this today. But I decided to spend half an hour and polish it and then continue writing it, but the ending planned itself. I like the way this chapter highlights something.
Did anyone catch something....interesting?
Please comment and let me know! First to get it right gets the next dedication.