F o r t y T h r e e
This one is for sheikuufathima
:)
Allah loves those who turn to Him constantly and He loves those who keep themselves pure and clean.
-Surah Baqarah| The Wise Qur'an-
☆
Mashal
Its frightening-- how we humans just read the epilogue of someone's book and pretend we know the whole story.
As I stared into Zeyara Suleiman's eyes-- the feeling was strange. Only eyes because I would crack down If I stared at the rest of his face. The feeling of being caged and free, anchored and flying, crying and laughing all at the same time.
The knowledge that I had never even seen the face of the person I married.
I wish Minahil was here to hear this. When she had asked me, 'How did he even marry you when he didn't even know what you looked like?'
I wish I could tell her that not only Zeyara, even I didn't know what he looked like.
"Sit." I whispered, the lowest of whispers.
We had been standing the whole time while he confessed everything that he had been hiding.
I lowered myself to the floor, pushed away the grains of sand that had been the aftermath of the poor punch bag's demise and crossed my legs. My gaze fixed on my fingers as they played with each other in my lap.
There were a few silent seconds before Zeyara gave in and sat down heavily on the floor, seeming as though he was falling.
Zeyara would have been in tears if he still had his tear glands. Other than his eyes, his entire body was crying. His face-- whatever was left of it was sulken and sunk as he stared at the grey floor.
"So the ten moles on your left foot....they're because of the burns! Phew. Alhamdulillah." I murmured, It was a feeble attempt to stop my eyes from watering and to lighten the atmosphere.
It failed though, because he didn't give any answer, not even a nod.
I wanted him to talk to me, at least look up at me but he just sat in front of me gloomily, leaving so many unanswered questions.
"Okay I have to tell you something as well." I faked a very serious voice. He still didn't look up.
"While you were gone, everyone thought you were dead. I wanted to get married so bad and I got a proposal so........"
Yessss! Finally it worked and he jerked his head up to look at me. His eyes were scared, so scared! Idiot didn't even comprehend how I could get married before the iddat.
"I'm sorry Zeyara." I sighed and glanced down at my hands. "That man was so handsome and he was a good muslim and he said he loved me and I--"
His mouth was slightly agape, he seemed to have held his breath. Zeyara's heart must be throbbing in fear. I forced myself not to laugh.
"I know you won't like to hear this but you need to know that I had no choice. I declined the proposal."
I tipped my head back and roared with laughter. He actually fell for it.
Zeyara stared at me in disbelief and surprise, probably thinking how I could laugh after such a sad revelation.
I wiped a tiny tear from my eye as I stopped laughing and looked back into his eyes. At least he was looking up at me now. I was kinda getting jealous of the floor.
"Does it not bother you at all that it was not my face that you liked?"
I thought for a second and shrugged evasively. "Honestly speaking, yes it does but thank Allah your curls are real! I always imagine your hair, not your face."
"I can't get that face back." His voice was so full of remorse and desolation. It wasn't even louder than a whisper. "Zeyara bin Hamid had started building jealousy. He hated me for stealing his position, his ranks, his face. Yesterday he said he had enough. His father Hamid is no more, Zeyara wanted his face back. I had been begging him for months but he wanted to be the only MZS. I talked to the founder, your father, seemed as though he was done with me as well. He said that Zeyara bin Hamid is right, I should leave his face now and let his daughter, you, see my real face."
"So you got a surgery to remove his face?" I asked, too ashamed by baba's words. He probably must have thought that I would leave Zeyara when I get to know that it wasn't his face.
Zeyara nodded slightly. "Yes and I'm back to this now."
It was still scary, the purple lumps on his face, the exposed pink flesh. I would be screaming if that was my face. It's a wonder how he was being so patient.
I gulped and asked the most girlish question ever but mind you, it was genuine. "Does it hurt?"
I wish I could know if he was smiling or not but all he did was to point at his face and say, "Here? No."
Then he pointed at his heart, "Here? A lot."
"Can you not get your real face back?" I asked hesitantly. I was unsure if Zeyara would take that as a rude remark.
"So you agree that I look hideous?"
"Yes." I answered honestly. "And ugly and absolutely disgusting. Just imagine if we ever have kids bi'iznillah, they would think their father is a Jin. And when I teach them ayat Al kursi they would keep blowing it on you and just imagine if you go to the masjid, the next day there would be a breaking news 'Muslim Jin prays in masjid. Subhanallah! Takbir!' "
The only expressions he could give were from his eyes and even his eyes showed nothing for a few seconds except silence. That made me feel so embarrassed at the ridiculous stuff that just came out of my mouth.
Then he finally spoke, this time I could tell he was happy and if he had his face, he would be smirking.
"In all of that nonsense, that made me question myself why I married you-- the only appealing thing is that you are still willing to have children with me zawjati."
Zawjati. Arabic for 'my wife.'
I closed my eyes, bit my lip and glanced away. My cheeks were turning rosy at my spontaneous word vomit.
"Yes I could get my real face back but that would be my sixteen years old face. I'm twenty one now and when I turn thirty or forty in sha Allah, I would still have the face of a sixteen year old. I don't want that."
"Ha! Kim Kardigan would be so jealous of you." I blurted out without thinking of the meaning.
Zeyara shook his head incredulously, "It's Kim Kardashian."
"Whatever its not that I watch her show that I would know how to pronounce that name. Wait--- how do you know her name mister?!"
"Uh- because she's famous."
"La hawla wala quwat! The fire should've burnt your eyes instead of your face. How dare you even see her? You must be enjoying right--"
"Chill Mashal! I'm all yours." He chuckled for the first time during our conversation. "No one else would even want to be near me."
"Now I'm thinking you shouldn't get a beautiful face. Girls can be worse than boys when they see someone hot--"
Shoot. What did I say? My hands flung to cover my mouth.
"Did you just use that word for me?" He chuckled.
"No I didn't. Aatagfirullah!"
"Zawjati I burnt my face not my ears."
"I-- I just meant that you have a burnt face you know. Burnt comes from fire, fire is hot so you're---" I gulped "hot."
He laughed a little longer this time which made me feel at peace. It was getting easier to talk to him, better. His face wasn't acting as a barrier anymore.
We joked for some time to get used to each other's presence before we finally got serious again.
"What do you plan to do now Zeyara?" I asked.
"Skin regeneration." He replied. "It's not like a plastic surgery. I won't get my whole face back. To get the whole face you need stem cells which come from umbilical cords of mothers so there are issues about it being halal or harm, but I would get a layer of skin on my face, which would grow and divide along with me. I would be able to smile, to cry, to frown but I would never be able to have facial hair, at least that's what the doctor says. No, eye brows, no beard, no mustache."
"N- not even eye brows?"
He shook his head, "no."
The silence between us was chilling. I was no longer staring at him, I was looking down at my hands. Imagining Zeyara without a beard, without eye brows, it was disturbing to say the least. I didn't know what to say.
I tried to summon more strength, I tried to look up at him but I couldn't.
I would be living with him for the rest of my life. I loved him, I was sure of that.
Then why was I feeling ashamed of the way he looked? It shouldn't matter to me if I truly do love him.
When did my love become so shallow that I'm feeling this.....this regret?
And he had given me paper flowers on our wedding day because real flowers die.
"It's up to you, I won't force you. You deserve a better life." He mumbled, sensing my uneasiness, "You're beautiful, you deserve someone with whom when you walk through the crowds, people envy you, not laugh at you. Just say it Mashal, I won't demand explanations. You want to leave, you can."
I rose my head up and glared at Zeyara. "Idiot!" I snapped, "I would've slapped you if your face was alright. How dare you even give me that option? You should be the one to lock me in your room even if I beg you to let me go and say, 'you're mine woman. You're not going anywhere.' "
Zeyara chuckled and grabbed my hand from my lap, rubbing circles into it with his thumb. "I love you."
"Not so fast! First tell me were you the one who made a joke of me that day in Khawlah? Then I will decide If I love you too or not."
"Okay.....so the one with the scar was Zeyara bin Hamid. It was me in the meeting room and then in Khawlah it was him but I was there too."
"I really don't understand. How do you both have the same voice?" I frowned.
"He uses an aiding mouthpiece." Zeyara shrugged, "It converts his voice to almost similar to mine. In Khawlah that day, I was the one who fought in the ring but then I got a message from the real Zeyara that he was coming and I had no right to work at his place so I skilfully displaced from the crowd, training helps, and he took my place."
"And you whispered in my ear?"
"Yeah." He nodded, "Zeyara bin Hamid knew that you were my wife. That's why he was bothering you. That's the best I could do to help you."
"But still, in the meeting room you behaved so rudely to me. Badtameez."
Badtameez. Mannerless in urdu.
"Yeah I did. I wanted you to start hating that face before I get it taken off. I would die if you chose Zeyara bin Hamid over me."
"You would?" I raised my brow playfully.
"Nah not really. I was just trying to impress you."
"I'm not impressed."
"Do what you can woman. You're mine, you're not going anywhere."
"I love you Zeyara Suleiman." I blushed before raising his hand, which was still holding mine, to my lips and planted a soft kiss.
☆
A quick short update on their lives! Things seem to be getting better eh?
HA.HA.HA. 😂
No but seriously things will remain better......for some time I guess.
*hides before tomatoes, eggs, chappals, ice creams hit.* (I'm better prepared this time lol)
Assalam o alaikum!
-Muskaan.
Ps. Pray that I survive my exams. 😂