➺Chapter Twenty-One
The next day, Zaeem was free from work to spend some time at home with his family. Aaida had disappeared somewhere after breakfast and Zaeem was conflicted on whether he should find her or let her be. He didn't want to suffocate her because he knew she needed time to sort out her own feelings yet he also didn't want to leave her all alone. Especially not after the previous episode where she'd locked herself in the washroom. During that time, Zaeem had honestly felt as if he would die.
"Zaeem, darling," Mahra waved a hand in front of him to catch his attention. She was sitting on her favorite plush chair in the sitting room, a half-finished scarf in her lap and her crochet needle in mid-air. There was a colorful assortment of yarn in the basket beside her. She had an entire closet full of yarn but whenever she started a project, she would select the yarn beforehand and put it in her basket so she could easily carry it around instead of having to travel back and forth to fetch colors. She especially hated having to move around if she was engrossed in her crocheting.
"Where's Aaida?"
Zaeem shrugged. "I don't know."
Mahra was not pleased. "After what happened last time, you still let her go off on her own?"
"Mamma, I can't stifle her," he released a small sigh. "I want her to collect her thoughts, make her own decisions. I can't force anything on her. I can't force her to move past everything that occurred these past months. She needs to take those steps herself."
"That doesn't mean you leave her alone," Mahra shot him a disapproving glance. "At least find out where she is."
"She's probably in the library."
"Go check," she urged.
"Fine," he grumbled. He knew she wouldn't leave him alone until she got what she wanted and at that moment, Mahra wanted him to be with Aaida. He was turning to leave when his mother remembered something.
"Oh, Zaeem," she said suddenly, dropping her needle. "Have you thought about what I told you last night?"
"I have," he replied testily. "But I'm going to wait. I don't think what you said is true and I know I have to confront Mustafa either way for peace of mind. Right now though, I want to focus on Aaida. If she was given even an inkling that-"
Mahra's lips drooped. "I understand. You're right. It is rather far-fetched."
Zaeem nodded in agreement and walked out of the sitting room, leaving his mother to her crochet. He wandered up the stairs to the library. Like he'd suspected, the door was ajar and he could see Aaida sitting inside. His gaze landed on her bandaged wrist and he paused for a second.
What had possessed him to get revenge on her? How could he have been so stupid, so blind? What had happened to his mother seared his heart whenever he thought about it, especially ever since he had gotten older and actually learned what it meant to be raped and destitute. It had been her pain that blindfolded him. Knowing his mother had gone through all that had pushed rational thinking to the edge of his mind and he had done things he would forever regret.
During the months Aaida had been gone, he had a lot of time to reflect on everything that had happened. He had thought about how he had treated Aaida, what he had said to her. He had thought about his harshness, his cruelty, his lack of respect. He had thought about how Aaida had acted towards him- always smiling, always thinking the best, and always forgiving him in the blink of an eye. Did he really deserve to have her back?
Of course the alternative was unthinkable.
If Aaida had been forced to stay with Mustafa any longer, she would've lost her mind. She was stronger than any woman he knew but even she couldn't handle that much mental and emotional stress. Even now, surrounded by people who cared for her, Aaida was just barely making it. Each day passed with such uncertainty. Sometimes Zaeem expected to wake up and find her hanging by the ceiling fan.
Their lives had changed drastically. Before, Zaeem had thought he would marry her, divorce her, and move on. Now, things were different. He'd married her all right. They'd had their downs and then there was a baby and her disappearance . . . Zaeem had realized he couldn't live without her. He didn't know exactly what he felt for her but sleeping without her beside him, walking through a house knowing she wasn't there- he couldn't do that anymore. He couldn't act as indifferent as he'd hoped in the beginning. He was no longer the heartless, revenge-driven Zaeem she had once known. He had begun to soften around the edges.
The thump of a hardback book against a wooden table brought him back to reality. He saw Aaida staring at him, question in her eyes.
"Is everything all right?"
He nodded once and stepped inside the library.
"Only thinking about a few things," he answered nonchalantly. "Which book are you reading?"
"Pride and Prejudice," Aaida replied with a small smile.
Zaeem couldn't resist a chuckle as he recalled a fond memory. "I remember Mamma reading that to Liam and me when we were younger. After Mr. Westerhuls took us in. I hated every moment of it."
Aaida ran her fingers over the cover, tracing the lettering. "I think it's nice. Mr. Darcy reminds me of you. You're both described as handsome, tall, and intelligent."
He contemplated her words. "I have his pride too. And Elizabeth Bennett's prejudices. I can recall a few occasions where I judged wrongly on first impressions."
Aaida looked away, not knowing how to respond to his words. Zaeem sat down on a nearby sofa and rested his chin in his palm, his elbow on the armrest.
"I wanted to give Jabir a second chance," he said suddenly and Aaida's gaze snapped back to him. He was looking out the window but his eyes were wistful and faraway. "I knew what he had done and Mr. Westerhuls hadn't sugarcoated any of it while telling me considering he had cut himself off from Jabir after he married Aliya. When I was younger though, I thought maybe Jabir had realized his mistake. Maybe he wanted us back but he couldn't find us or something. I wanted to believe that with everything I had. I wanted to give him a second chance." He leaned back against the sofa. "When I was eighteen, Mamma caught pneumonia in the beginning of winter. I thought it was the perfect opportunity. I would go to Jabir, tell him Mamma was sick and he would come rushing to help us."
Aaida knew what he was going to say. She had been twelve at the time and she remembered every detail of that day when she had first seen Zaeem.
"I came here. I stood at the gate for half a day. And I begged my father to help my mother."
He had cried too. Aaida remembered.
"Come away from there, Aaida," Aliya groused.
Aaida bit her bottom lip. "But Mother, he says he wants to meet his daddy."
"His daddy doesn't live her," a scowl spread on Aliya's lips. "That's just some poor beggar looking for a way to steal a few coins. Come away from that window and go read a book or something."
Aaida hopped down from the chair and Aliya, satisfied that she wasn't looking at the boy anymore, went off in a huff. Aaida waited until her mother was gone before she ran up to her room. She found her little piggy bank in the back of her closet. Quickly opening it, she dumped out all the money from inside on to the skirt of her dress. She gathered her skirt to make sure the money wouldn't fall and ran down the stairs to the kitchen to find Mama Susie.
"I wonder why Jabir denied giving me that money," Zaeem frowned. "I remember asking him later on, when I had a brief meeting with him regarding parental rights. I wanted to name Mamma as my only guardian on all my documentations and I'd hoped he'd terminate his claim on me. Regardless of him giving me money, I still could not stand the thought of actually forgiving him and accepting him as a father again."
Aaida wanted to steer the conversation in another direction. She gave him that money because she wanted to do something kind for the boy who looked so lost at her front door. Not so that she could gloat about it years later. "Did he? Terminate his rights, I mean?"
"No," Zaeem shook his head. "He didn't. I think that's what led me to believe that maybe he was only denying providing me the money because he wanted to keep up a façade for Aliya."
Aaida shrugged. "That could be it."
Zaeem tilted his head, watching her intently. "You know something, don't you?"
"Not really." She looked away.
"Aaida? What aren't you telling me?" He prodded.
She wanted to refuse again but there was something in Zaeem's eyes that stopped her. He seemed so desperate for an answer. She wanted him to continue believing his father had actually done that kind deed. But was it right to lie to him like this when he despised Jabir so much?
"Your father didn't give you the money, Zaeem." She said finally and gave him a small smile. "I did."
Zaeem's eyes widened a fraction. He gazed at her, his expression unreadable and his eyes glazed over.
"Why did you do it?"
"You looked so upset." A giggle escaped her lips. It was light yet filled with forgotten joys. "I thought you were the handsomest man I had ever seen. It was the first time I wanted to do what all the debutants did- make my face, put on a fancy dress, high-heeled shoes. I didn't know Fath- Jabir would come home to throw a ruckus when he found out you had come."
Zaeem smiled in amusement. "You thought I was handsome? I was only eighteen."
"And I was only twelve. That didn't stop me from daydreaming."
He sighed and gestured around him. "Now here we are."
"We've married and you've bedded me and I've become pregnant with your child and lost him as well," she said melancholically. "So much has changed. So much has passed. My twelve-year-old self's version was a lot happier."
"Can we not alter it? Our story?"
"What do you mean?"
"I want to make things different. I want . . . I'm tired of the dark cloud lingering over our house, Aaida. Before, it was Mamma's pain that tortured me emotionally day in and day out. Now, it's the loss of our child, your wounds, and these past months- doesn't it suffocate you?"
Aaida looked down at her hands. "What can we do?"
"I know you need time to move on and-"
"Can we adopt?"
Her question startled him. His jaw went slack.
"We what?"
"Nothing," she quickly shook her head. "I wasn't thinking straight."
"No, Aaida," he stood up and walked to her, taking her hands in his. His eyes bore into hers in all-seriousness. "You want to adopt? When did you start thinking of this?"
"It's been a while. I want . . . I want a baby. I want someone to hold and play with and cuddle. I was ready to be a mother. Mentally. I had already made up my mind and then-" her voice broke. He pulled her into a hug.
"Can I have some time to think about this too?"
She nodded vigorously. "Of course. Yes. Please."
"I'll get back to you. I just- I don't want to push you."
"Zaeem," she squeezed his hand. "You've been so wonderful. You've helped me so much and I'm so grateful to have you with me. If you weren't here-"
"I'm here, Aaida," he cut her off and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm here. I wish I could offer you a child of your own but-"
"I'm not healed and I don't think I'm ready to feel that again," Aaida smiled sadly. "But one day, Zaeem. I promise you. One day I'll carry your child again."
He weaved his fingers through her hair, relishing in the softness of it. "That's all I need to know."
Comfortable, compatible silence fell over them. She sat on the window seat with her head leaned against his chest and his arms around her. Her left palm was pressed to his heart and her right hand lay clasped in her lap. Being with him in that moment made her realize how they had changed. They had grown up, the both of them. Matured in ways. He was no longer his hateful, unforgiving self and she was no longer as credulous of the world. She had learned that people would hurt you no matter what, even if you hadn't done a single thing to them. And those people weren't worthy of pardon.
They stayed that way until lunchtime rolled around and a maid came to inform them that Mahra was waiting for them to arrive in the dining room. Zaeem helped Aaida down from the seat and they headed off to join their mother for their meal. It was light and hearty, filled with pleasant conversation. Zaeem's mind was preoccupied though. He couldn't stop thinking of what Aaida had said before.
"Can we adopt?"
Adoption. It was so tricky. Especially since they planned on having their own children later on. There was a lot to consider. Would the child be deprived? Would he feel inferior to their other children? Would he develop a complex- perhaps even resentment towards his family?
Was Aaida even ready?
What if she decided she wanted her own child, with her blood flowing through its veins? What then? What if she still had nightmares or she went into one of her phases? Wouldn't that traumatize the baby? She was still healing. Putting a baby into her arms wasn't the rational thing to do. He knew Aaida would want to feed the infant and she wasn't ready for that. She could barely carry herself around the house and at times, he felt she would faint dead away. Was it intelligent to bring a child into their family under these circumstances? He was already too busy with work and taking out time for his wife and mother. He didn't want any child of his growing up neglected.
"Zaeem, you aren't eating," Mahra observed with a frown.
Zaeem sighed. "Sorry, Mamma. I'm not in the right state of mind at the moment. There's a lot to think about."
Mahra patted his hand fondly. "Can I help with anything, darling?"
Zaeem shook his head. He usually told her everything but there were some things which needed to stay between him and Aaida. She was his wife, after all, and he couldn't have him blabbing all their personal conversations to his mother. Not without her permission.
"Just work," he replied noncommittally.
Mahra understood and stepped down. They resumed their meal in quietness until Mahra finally excused herself to return to her crocheting. Aaida continued nibbling on a piece of garlic bread to remain seated at the table although Zaeem knew she had finished eating a long time back. He was satisfied to see she had actually eaten a whole plate of food. She needed her energy and strength to heal.
When lunch was over and the maids arrived to clear the dishes, Mama Susie bustled inside too. She held a crisp envelope in her hands and waved it about to catch their attention. "There's a letter for you," she said to Zaeem in that informal way she had adopted over the months. He didn't mind, of course, since he had started seeing her as a grandmotherly figure.
Zaeem took the envelope and turned it over with a frown. There was a red wax seal on it with a snarling dragon emblem. Above the dragon's head was an intricate crown. Zaeem instantly knew who it was from.
"Who came to drop this letter?" He asked Susie, flipping it back and forth a few times to make sure it was real and no one was pulling a trick on him.
"A man," Susie shrugged. "Said it was important and I get this to you as soon as possible. He seemed to be in a bit of a hurry though."
Zaeem broke the seal and slipped out the letter from inside. He opened the folds and peered at the invitation in confusion.
"Who is it from?" Aaida asked in curiosity.
Zaeem pursed his lips, his gaze tracing the signature at the end.
"We've been invited to a dinner party," his voice was devoid of feeling. "By His Royal Highness, the King."
A/N: DUN DUN DUN DAAAAAH!
That cat gets what's going on. But seriously. MAJOR MAJOR secrets revealed in the next chapter. Basically, half of the mystery of this book gets solved. This chapter was sorta like reaching the peak of a roller-coaster before it hurtles downwards.
I do too. Moving on, I've had two exams up-to-date and one was OH-KAY-ISH while the other was great, Alhamdulillah. Keep remembering me in your prayers and In Shaa Allah the rest will go great too!
Excuse the weirdness of that gif. I'm not feeling myself today. Oh and another update! I had my birthday two days back!
It was as uneventful as ever. We don't celebrate birthdays in our family because that's just not a thing. But I'll get some presents from here and there so that was good. I feel all grown up now though which is great. The reality should kick in though since I'm the mother of a gazillion babies (Aaida, Zuleym, Zaeem, Za'yaal, Dante, Myeesha, Midas, Liam Musa- to name a few).
Aaaand . . . I'm dedicating this chapter to Sapphires01! Yes, the sweet darling wished me a happy birthday on the 17th and that was ADORABLE because I really thought no one would remember. But you're amazing so thank you so much! This chapter is for you, love.
On further important updates on my life . . . I've been thinking of writing a story for the Yousaf family. Ya'll know how there are four major families of Uzmer right? The Dragos, the Al-Makki, the Yousaf and the Ibrahim families. I've got stories for the Al-Makki and Dragos families and I want to continue the trend for the remaining two. What are your thoughts?
Be sure to mention them in the comments or shoot me a private message! I'm open for suggestions! And for now, farewell my darlings!
(That kid is so adorable!)