This chapter is dedicated to @TheQueenofDarkness for always pushing us to keep writing :)
Chapter Thirty Four
"One Step Closer"
حبني بوجهي الضاحك أو بوجهي الحزين
في لحظة الهدوء أو في لحظة الجنون
في قلقي، في غيرتي
في غضبي عليك، في حنيني
Last Friday
The day was coming to an end, daylight fading and darkness taking its place. Everybody had decided to leave, packed their stuff and were getting in their cars except for Zayed. And the reason behind that was Mahra. He looked around for her, but she was nowhere to be found. There was this one place where he thought he might find her. Tired and annoyed, without telling anyone, he went to search for her.
Knowing the place too well, he took a shortcut and came down to the tree tunnel that led to the swimming pool area. Climbing up the few stairs, he got to his destination and found her right where he thought he would, next to the swimming pool, under the patio, shaded by the weeping fig.
She was busy reading the information written on the can of her soft drink and didn't detect him coming. As he got closer, his feet made a splashing sound on the wet ground which was what caught her attention and she looked up, gasping loudly.
"You startled me." She pronounced, hand placed on her heart.
"What are you doing here alone?" He asked for the second time today.
"What does it look like I am doing?" Mahra gave him a smug look.
"Witchcraft?" Zayed guessed, sarcastically.
"Yes, I was working on a spell." She went along. "How to get rid of my husband in three days!"
She heard him chuckle and he stopped at a distance from her. "Isn't there a faster spell?" He put forward, surveying her, closely.
"Not that I know of, but there are faster ways?"
"Like stabbing him or poisoning him?" Zayed recommended, watching as a strand of her hair teased her face.
"No, more like annoying him to death." Mahra asserted, tucking her hair behind her ear.
There was a small pause.
"Don't you think you've already done that?" Zayed pointed out. She looked up and their eyes met. So many feelings unsaid but said at the same time.
"Let's go, everyone's leaving." He informed, gesturing towards where he came from.
She shook her head. "No. I don't wanna go. Can't we just stay here?" She questioned, eyes hopeful.
Zayed tucked his hands in his pockets. "No, we can't. Particularly not this place." He replied.
"Why?"
"Because... this place is known to not be safe at night. I am sure you've heard about the myth of the weeping fig." He explained in exaggeration.
"There is no myth. You're making that up." She observed, not ready to believe him.
"Suit yourself. I hope you have a good night with..." He looked up at the tree, indicating that there were other types of creatures living in this tree. Zayed turned his back to her and began to walk away.
Mahra stood up in her seat. "You're lying." she disagreed.
"I designed this place I know what exists in here." He made known, walking further away.
After a moment of thought. "But I don't think very highly of you." She remembered him saying, that she thought very highly of the person who had designed this place.
"I think I can live with that." Zayed yelled from over his shoulder. And Mahra was sure she heard him snicker.
Without wasting another minute, she decided to follow, thinking to herself that there was a drastic change in his behavior throughout the whole day and for some odd reason that was relieving.
Monday
Mahra
A persistent and steady knocking on the door was what dragged me from my deep slumber and startled me right out of my profound dream. My eyes flipped open, in the middle of the night, as the knocks on the door became rougher and impatient. I found myself sitting up in bed in one swift movement and turned the nearby lamp on. I lifted up the covers and got out of bed, to open the banging door. Anxious and afraid, I unlocked the door and pulled it open. A blazing light, coming from the living room, poured into my eyes, making me blink several times, as I tried to adjust with the brightness.
My eyes fell upon my husband's brown ones. Standing in front of me, in the middle of the night, was a formally dressed Zayed, staring at me, uptight. I scowled and gave him a questioning look.
"Something's come up." Zayed declared, disturbed. With a single shake of his head, I noticed him take his gaze away from me, which paid as a reminder of what state I was in, wearing my pink capri pajamas and loose white shirt with tousled bed hair, as messy as ever. "I must go." At his serious tone my heart sank in my chest and I lost track of my earlier thoughts.
"Why?" I tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear and stepped out of the room, with a deep frown on my face. "What is it?" I interrogated, incomprehensively. His serious eyes looked at me now, as I stood close to him, anxious. "Go where?" Hundreds of dreadful thoughts, ran through my brain. I wished my fears would be unnecessary and hoped uncle Waleed was fine.
He turned his back to me, heading towards his room, as I followed close behind, heart in my throat. "It's Jassim." Zayed announced, voice indignant. "He's in the hospital."
A gasp escaped my lips, and a sudden terror took over me. "Hospital? What happened to him?" I asked, eyes wide.
My husband took his time before replying. "He's gotten in trouble with his friends and things got out of control." He informed, without glancing at me.
"Have you spoken to him? Is he alright?" I expressed my concern and paused as I got to the door that led to his room, knowing exactly where my limits were.
"He said he was fine when he called, claiming that he and his friend had minor injuries caused by a car accident," Zayed spoke, sounding distressed.
I drew in a breath sharply, with a hand on my heart and watched him gather his belongings, quickly. I prayed for Jassim under my breath, upon which Zayed turned and fixed me with a peculiar gaze, then looked around, searching for something. I watched as he bent down to open and close the bed-side drawers, disappointingly.
"What are you looking for?" I questioned, as he tucked his hands in his pockets but couldn't find what he searched for.
"Have you seen my car keys?" He inquired.
My eyes skimmed the room and landed back on him. Then remembering where I had seen them last, I made my way to the living room and found them sitting on the square coffee table, opposite to the TV. He'd been watching TV there last night when I went to sleep!
Picking up his wallet and keys, I turned around and noticed that he'd followed me. "Should I call Hamad?" I put forward, as I handed him his belongings, carefully.
Zayed raised an eyebrow. "Why? Are you afraid of being alone here?" He inserted his wallet in his kandoraah's pocket. His question seemed like an innocent one but it surprised me, nonetheless.
"No," I shook my head. "I thought maybe you want him to be there with..." I hesitated before continuing.
Perhaps, my consideration took him off guard. We exchanged a look and some unsaid words. "No, I'll take care of this." He asserted, confidently. "Don't trouble the man in the middle of the night." He ordered and walked passed me towards the door. This time I was the one who followed him.
As he got to the door, Zayed whirled around swiftly, facing me. "Move your necessary items from your room to mine. Make it look like no one lives there."
As his sentence registered, I grew confused. "Why?" With furrowed eyebrows, I protested, not liking where this was going.
"I am bringing Jassim back with me." He explained.
"So?" I gave him a stern look of inquiry. The muscles in his face tightened as he stared back at me in that way of his, that you're-too-dumb-for-me way. A gaze that seems awfully familiar now. I could tell he was waiting for me to comprehend it on my own but I didn't.
"We're husband and wife, if you've forgotten." He spoke, a while later. With great force, I looked up at his tall erect posture shadowing over me. "The society expects us to share one room." My husband reminded, embarrassing me thoroughly. Upon encountering my scarlet face he shook his head once again and turned away from me, whispering something to himself that I couldn't hear.
Abashed, I remained silent as he opened the apartment door and got out. "Close the door behind me and don't open it for anyone but myself." He instructed I managed to nod and did what I was told.
Close the door behind him and don't open it for anyone else but him!
That sentence. As simple as it was, but for some reason it meant much more than that to me. The door of my fickle heart had once been open for him, inviting in a dark storm. After him, will I ever be able to close this door? Will it ever open for anyone else?
I hate the fact, that I have grown so erratically used to his presence around me. I have become familiar with the way he speaks, the way he silently approves and disapproves of my actions. I know his schedule, when he eats and goes to sleep. I watch him from the kitchen sometimes, as he puts one hand behind his head and leans back to watch TV. I know some of his interests, although, he doesn't open up to me that much, and I know there is a lot to that mysterious character, but I observe and analyse. Consequently, I have come to realize, that he's much more than this proud and silent person, what lies behind his poker face is either a loathsome personality or a rarity that can get close to perfection.
And this is why I despise him and I despise myself more than him, for not being strong enough to refuse falling into his trap. As of now, he hasn't even let down his net and this is what he's done to me, what if he does? What could possibly happen to me if he wanted me to fall for him? How would I ever survive that?
A sensible voice in my brain cussed me for my fragility and cursed him for his nonchalance.
**
Moving my stuff from my room to his, hadn't been an easy task. Starting from my clothes, I picked up hands full of dresses and hung them in his wardrobe, next to his dim white kandorahs. After the third round, I had completely filled his hanging rail, so much so that my colorful and shimmery clothes were touching his. Paying no heed to that, I continued with the rest of my stuff and finally placed my make-up on the dresser next to his watches and perfumes.
Turning back to face the room, I made his messy bed and picked up the clothes and towel he'd thrown on the floor. As much as I hate picking after him, but I had to do it for now. From the past two weeks, he's hired a daily cleaning service. I do not let them enter my room of course, but most of my husband's tasks are carried by them.
I heard the call for Fajr prayer, changed into a jalabia and prayed. I was sitting in the living room, with utter anxiety, drumming my fingers on the armrest since I was on pins and needles, praying that Jassim's condition wouldn't be worse than what he'd told his brother. At long last, when I saw the first rays of the rising sun, the doorbell rang and I sprinted up to answer it.
I could hear Zayed's voice from the other side of the door and adjusted my sheilah on my head, I opened the door to invite him in. Barely sparing me a glance, he walked in, phone in hand conversing deeply with someone, I guessed was Hamad. Following him, silently, was an injured Jassim who was considerate enough to pass me a proper greeting. I half replied and whispered the rest, gaping at his plastered left arm, scratched face and dusty jeans. As I looked back to stare at his face, he wore a small smile, his split lower lip had a few stitches, making me wince.
"Alhamdilliah 'Alassalaamah Jassim. (Thank God for your safety.)" I began, forcing a smile. "Ma tshoof shar ya ukhooi. (Hope you'll never face trouble, brother.)" I prayed, inviting him to the living room where my husband was.
"Allah yesalmich, asshar ma eyeech. (Blessings be with you, troubles may not come to you.)" He replied walking beside me. His unstable steps proved that his right leg was injured as well. I watched Jassim sitting down, painfully, on the armchair. I hurried away to the kitchen and brought him a glass of fresh juice but he refused to drink it.
"Drink it." I insisted. "You look awfully pale." I noticed, he'd probably lost a lot of blood. Without any argument, Jassim took the glass with his free hand and drank silently.
Zayed was still conversing with Hamad as he turned to us and addressed his brother. "Jassim, where's your phone?" He inquired. The young man inserted his right hand in his pocket and extracted an iPhone. "Hamad wants Sultan's address. Send it to him." He ordered and then looked at me. Zayed summoned me with a hand gesture to follow him to his room and I did leaving Jassim alone.
He was still on the phone as I walked after him. "Check if you've received the money.... Yeah...no it's 47....Cash... I think going to his home would be a better idea." We were in his room by now and this time I had chosen to step inside with him.
At last, I heard my husband thank my brother for his help. "I told your sister not to trouble you, but apparently she didn't listen." He uttered the words randomly but his eyes met mine and I grew uneasy. By the time I got back my composure, Zayed had ended the call and opened his wardrobe, seeming surprised.
"What have you done?" He questioned, eyeing my clothes.
"Shifted." I simply said, shrugging my shoulders.
"Clearly you have." He whispered and sighed, searching for his clothes. Taking out a white T-shirt and a pair of gray trousers, he handed them to me.
"Give these to Jassim and tell him to change and rest. I haven't prayed yet." He asked, and I stared vacantly at him for ordering me around. He was quick enough to pick that up. "Please." He soon added, which was enough for me.
"Okay." I picked the clothes up and stood there, another thought crossing my mind. "Ahh... does your family know about Jassim's accident and that he's staying with you?" I put forward, hoping he wouldn't take my curiosity as an interference.
"No one knows aside from you and Hamad." He replied, opening his sleeve buttons, moving towards the bathroom. "I'll tell Badr in the morning, I guess."
"What about your parents?" I pointed out, staring at his back, knowing that this news will have some effect on their trip to the U.S.
"They don't need to know. After so many delays father has finally agreed to travel day after tomorrow." He turned to face me, now unbuttoning his kandoorah. "Everybody has enough on their shoulders already, telling them about Jassim's irresponsibility won't do them any good." My husband explained.
I stared down at the floor for the right words. "Sooo... if someone asks, what's the story?"
Zayed paused at the third button, I think I saw him smirk. Both his hands dropped to his sides as he held me in a gaze. "I won't make you lie to people," his smile had faded by now. "I'll take care of it, you don't worry."
I had a few more questions but was reluctant to ask him. Soon I heard his impatient voice asking me to leave. "I have to change." He said, dismissing me. Flustered, I quickly made my way to the door but paused when I heard his voice calling out.
"Jassim is at his friend's house." He made known, and that was the story!
With a quick nod, I left without turning back.
**
Sitting with Jassim, I noticed he wasn't his normal self-today. Slightly guilty, ashamed and very upset both with himself and a guy named Sultan. What had they done anyway? I wanted to ask but followed Zayed's request and told Jassim to have some rest instead. He seemed to welcome the idea and soon went to my room.
It was nearly 5:30 AM and I knew I couldn't sleep now, going back to share his room in the apartment wasn't that appealing either. Shaking my head in disapproval, I stretched my hand to pick up my phone placed on the table ahead and went through my notifications.
A small smile made its way across my lips as I read, 'Fatoom has sent you three messages' and quickly began chatting with her once I found her online. We shared some informal greetings and asked about each other's well-being. I inquired about her work and she about my marriage. My reply, as usual, was a lie.
"Has Jassim gone to sleep?" came Zayed's voice, breaking my trail of thoughts. I turned sideways to glance at him and answered with a nod. He silently walked to the couch on my left and sat down, seeming exhausted.
After a moment's thought, I added. "You should have some rest too." Came my careful suggestion. "It's still early." We both turned to look at the clock hanging from the wall, even though I knew what time it was.
He seemed to take my suggestion and lay on his back, closing his eyes but his following words contradicted. "No. I am fine. I have a meeting to attend in two hours." He spoke, in a low husky voice.
I chose to remain silent and turned back to my conversation with Fatoom, my old friend. Curling both my legs beside me, I tried to get comfortable as she told me about how things were at work.
- 'I'm sure you've heard the good news?'
As I read that message, my brows knit together in confusion and I settled back in my chair.
- 'What good news?'
- 'Well, Noorah got kicked outta work. Didn't Mr. Zayed tell you?'
Dumbstruck, I gaped at that last message in bewilderment, jaw slacked and suddenly words left me. My head shot towards him, sleeping next to me with a billion other secrets he will never tell me. Noorah out of work?! Had it been Zayed's doing? Of course, it was. It is his company!
By the time I collected myself, Fatoom had sent two more messages and was typing another one.
- It was last Thursday when she came to me to say goodbye, absolutely mad at your husband lol. She'd received a letter & was then told by Mr. Faisal & Mr. Zayed that her performance wasn't as great as they'd expected.
- Well, her performance never was that great anyway!
- Didn't you know??? I thought Mr. Zayed told you!!!
My reply was taking longer than it normally should. I tried typing but couldn't. Why would he do that? Did he do it for me? I glanced at him once again, and then back at my phone.
- Yeah, I think Zayed mentioned it once.
I lied but knew I had to lie better.
- He believes he needs to change how things ran in the company with his father around. Don't you remember what he did to me lol
I sent that last message, hoping she'd buy it.
- Really? I thought you might have something to do with it?!
Here I froze, not knowing the answer to that question myself.
- Please... he's not that unprofessional, besides he's not that easily influenced. I couldn't do it even if I tried.
I didn't know why I was defending him, but some part of me remembered his words from last Friday. 'You are the person who enhances or disgraces my status.' He'd said to me. But why did I care?
- Someone's madly in love!
She sent that message with various heart-related emojis. I silently scoffed and shook my head.
- LOL
I typed, frowning.
- Sry Fatoom hayati, I have to go make breakfast. TTYL.
That was how I ended the conversation.
After bidding her farewell, I tossed my phone on the nearby sofa to my right and planned to keep my eyes carefully away from my husband, trying to adjust my thoughts. But my strong will couldn't govern my stronger feelings. I turned to him as his breathing slowed, deepened, and his chest heaved up and down, proving he'd fallen asleep.
Suddenly breathing became harder than dying and watching him was tougher than life itself. A voice in my head accused me of having fallen so deeply in love with this numinous man but I knew better. Just like everybody else, I might admire him for being this great man he is, but he is not my great man, he never will be. And I have learned that we shouldn't love what is not ours, we shouldn't love what we cannot have! Besides, I have not yet forgotten his betrayal. I have not yet forgotten that there's another woman's name that dwells within his heart.
A sudden chill ran down my spine, and I realized both my hands and legs were frozen. Looking around I realized the room was too cold. His habit of setting the air conditioner at a lower degree will certainly kill me someday. With a low grunt, I got up to make myself some coffee and breakfast. Before doing so, the idea of covering him with a blanket came to me, but I thought better off it.
Yet, after making my coffee, I returned back to his room, bringing back with me my gray throw blanket and covered his legs.
He slept for another forty-five minutes, meanwhile, I made breakfast for the three of us and drank my coffee. After finishing the pancakes, I was now sitting in the kitchen, watching the clock carefully, knowing that he was running late for work and hoping that he'd get up himself but apparently, he didn't.
Finally, placing my coffee mug aside, I made my way to where he was sleeping and stood at a good distance from him. Taking a deep breath, I pronounced his name.
"Zayed," I called and felt a heavy air engulfing me in its warmth. His name was the summary of my sorrow. I tried calling him, twice and thrice but he seemed to be too deep asleep. For a moment I realized I didn't have the courage to do this. My eyes lingered on his serene face longer than they ever had. His majestic calmness and that undeniable presence dazed me. He was a mixture of courage, strength, and pride.
Taking a few steps forward, I got closer to him and placed a hand on his right shoulder, shaking him gently. "Zayed." I uttered. "Get up, you're running late." I saw his eyelids flicker. Taking the scene in, he shot up on the couch as if he'd seen a bad dream.
I retreated a couple of steps, giving him his space and noticed his eyes falling on my gray throw. His head shot towards me and our eyes met. I couldn't judge whether the look that he gave me was critical or grateful. He grabbed hold of the throw and tossed it aside. Perhaps he didn't appreciate my efforts or maybe he just wasn't a morning person. As I made assumptions, he sat straight up on the couch, hands on his knees, rubbing his aching neck.
"What time is it?"
"It's 7:15 A.M."
His hand moved from his neck to his forehead as if he was suffering from a headache. "I am awfully tired." He announced.
I felt a twinge of pity for him.
"Then skip work, it's just one day," I suggested, slightly reluctant.
He shook his head. "No, I have a really important meeting to attend." He opposed.
"There won't be a meeting without you." I continued, firmly.
He raised his head to look at me, his lips twitched into a half smile.
"Really?" He stared at me, that small smile still lingering there. I knew what I had said was proof of my unprofessionalism and the power of his lazy gaze wasn't helping either.
"I mean..." I shrugged my shoulders. "Aren't you the boss?" other silly words followed.
At that, he shook his head and got up. "You're a bad influence." I heard him mutter as he made to his room.
**
I had randomly picked up that green book once more, only three or four more topics were remaining until I finished it. Sitting on the dining table, chewing on my pancake, I had placed it beside me, as a reminder of who it was from. Abstractedly, I opened the first page to read her name there. Jenaan.
After that fight in the farm, we never spoke about her, Zayed and I. He didn't bring her up for obvious reasons and I tried to ignore her existence as well because the more I remembered her the more it hurt.
Jenaan... had he really loved her that much that he couldn't open his heart for anyone else now? What did he like the most about her? Had it been her smile, her form or her long blonde hair? She surely was beautiful and smart. In the few minutes that she formally spoke to me, at the farm, and the way she delicately conversed with Zayed's grandmother, was proof that she was a woman of great knowledge and wits. She showed me no sign of discontent or peevishness and suddenly Shoug's story started to make sense, even though nobody had confirmed it.
Going through the pages of the book, I thought perhaps her liberality and open mindset was what he admired, which is very different than that of mine. Realizing that, made things even worse, now I sit and compare myself to her every other minute. She must be really lucky to have conversed with him openly, hear his opinions on random issues and different people. I wondered was he a different person around her than he is around me?
Once again, he interrupted my train of thoughts. I heard him clear his throat this time as he came to sit opposite me on the table. Looking up from the book, I noticed that he was formally dressed in white again. I never saw this color compliment, anyone, as much as it did him.
"Why do you keep carrying that book around all the time?" He began, pouring himself a glass of orange juice.
I kept my eyes carefully fixed at the last paragraph as I ran my index finger down the page and turned to read the next. "In hopes that I might find something in it. Perhaps another name or even a love letter!" I taunted.
Obviously, he understood what I meant yet showed no sign of uneasiness. "Good luck finding one!" He shot back and both of us remained silent.
He busied himself reading the news on his phone and I my book. Although there was a lot I wanted to ask him, like him firing Noorah, Jassim's accident and his past lady admirers, but I didn't.
At long last, I finally decided that my first concern was unavoidable. I needed to know why he fired Noorah. I shut the book, no longer able to concentrate and put it aside. And thought how to bring forth my concern.
"Soo.." I began, playing with the choco chip in my almost-empty-plate. "How's everyone at work?"
If he was surprised at my strange inquiry, he wouldn't let me know. His poker face gave nothing away.
He put his phone aside and picked up his fork and knife. "You've remembered them too soon. Haven't you?" He ridiculed.
I had the urge to roll my eyes. "I have been missing them for quite a while now."
Zayed nodded with a low hmm, which bugged me since his dry reply didn't answer my question. He skewered a slice of honey covered pancake on his fork and ate, expressionless. I was finding other ways to get back to my topic when he added.
"Reading a lot can be unhealthy for beginners!" He made fun of my recent reading habit, with a serious look.
I scoffed, chewing on the strawberry that I had just eaten, an evil thought came to me. Keeping my eyes securely away from him, I added, tone coldly contemptuous.
"I have to admit 'Your Jenaan' seems to have great taste." I remembered that that was how Shoug had introduced her to me, 'Zayed's Jenaan' she'd said. I imagined he would let my comment slip without notice but he chose not to. I might've gone too far. When I looked up to finally meet his gaze, he threw me a venomous glare.
"I mean this book is really good." I complimented, acting dumb, but he understood me well.
Suddenly, he put his fork down and picked up his glass, uneasiness clear on his face. Doesn't he like my cooking?
A moment of silence ticked by and a twitch of guilt arose in the pits of my stomach. I thought I should spare him my asperity, he was already going through enough.
"Should I wake Jassim up?" I noticed a deep frown on his face and realized I might've changed the subject but I couldn't change his mood now.
"No." He retorted. Frowning at my voice.
I frowned. "Why?"
But he chose not to answer. My eyes followed his movements as he placed his napkin on the table and left me sitting there accompanied by guilt and aggression.
**
5:26 PM
Jassim's story was much more dramatic than what I thought. His car had crashed during a car race, one he had to win so that he could pay the debt his friend owed the other racer. According to Jassim's story, nobody was seriously injured and luckily for him, he had a brother like Zayed who came up with the verdict and closed the case. I guessed the cash delivery he spoke of to Hamad earlier, was how he did it.
Unlike his older brother, Jassim was the most amazing guy to hang around with. He and I had more things in common than I did with Hamad, his love for cars, horror movies, and art. Turns out Jassim adores photography and has sold some of his work in the Dubai Art exhibition. Once I told him about my paintings, he insisted I show him some of my work and I promised I will.
After having a heavy lunch from his favorite restaurant, we now sat in the dim lit living room, watching 'The other side of the door'. He'd try to scare me every now and then and we'd laugh at his false attempts. Extremely engrossed with the movie, we hardly touched our popcorn and barely heard the doorbell ring.
On the third ring, Jassim got up and turned to me, theatrically. "Who could be on the other side of the door?" He spoke, making me smile as he went to open the door, his injured foot following.
**
Zayed
5:17 PM
Zayed had just left the hospital where he'd been with Badr and his father running some tests before they traveled. He'd managed to tell Badr about Jassim's accident away from his father and the concerned uncle was trying to talk to Jassim but couldn't since Jassim's cell came off. He called again once Zayed reached his apartment and was conversing with him when the door opened and a smiling Jassim emerged from the other side.
"Jassoom, where is your phone?" Zayed 'greeted'.
The younger brother thought before replying. "I forgot to put it on charge." He remembered, and Zayed threw his phone to him, which Jassim caught with his unwounded hand.
"Badr wants to talk to you." Zayed made known, entering his apartment and closing the door behind him. Jassim preceded him to the living room and he followed close behind. Encountering the sight in front of him he was somewhat baffled.
From the corner of his eye, Zayed noticed Jassim taking a seat. "As Salaam Alaikum." He greeted, a not so composed Mahra.
"Wa Alaikum assalaam." She answered and moved to turn all the lights on.
Zayed turned to look at the mountain of snacks, popcorn, drinks, and beverages on the table, knowing that she was cosseting Jassim when Mahra distracted him with her question.
"Can I get you something?" She asked for formality's sake.
Her husband nodded. "A cup of tea, please." He replied, remembering how tired he was.
Following his request, Mahra headed towards the kitchen and he took off his 'egal and ghatrah placing them on the nearby sofa, next to her gray throw, which took his thoughts back to this morning.
Jassim was still in conversation with Badr so he went to the kitchen to ask Mahra, how had his brother been! Not getting inside, he stood by the door watching her. It wasn't the first time that Zayed had questioned his judgment when it came to Mahra. Sometimes he thought he might've been a little prejudice with her. Seeing how easily she collides with every member of his family, was intriguing. Didn't they view her the same way he and Mona did?
A short while later, he knew she'd felt his presence, and so he spoke. "Has Jassim complained about something? Is he fine?" He questioned, watching as she put away the task at hand and turned to look at him.
"He seems fine." She announced. "Although he did say his broken hand hurts. The pain was what woke him up." Mahra informed, getting back to extracting a spoon from the drawer.
"His bandages need to be changed!" Zayed put forward, hands falling on his sides.
"Umm.." Mahra hesitated and considered for a while. "I actually thought of doing that myself. But then thought maybe he doesn't want me to."
Taken by surprise, Zayed added. "I appreciate what you are doing for him." His voice filled with gratitude. She thought he was only trying to be nice because Jassim was here!
"Jassim's my brother too, you know, not just yours!" She paused, briefly. "It's my job to look after my family."
Zayed gazed, seeking her eyes. She refused to look at him and he watched as she tried to overcome her uneasiness.
"I hate to disturb your nostalgic reunion." Jassim came into the kitchen, handing his brother his phone. "But I need to borrow your wife, brother. We have a movie to finish."
Zayed gave Jassim a cunning look, which he brushed off with a smirk and added. "Would you care to join us?"
"I guess I have to, unwillingly."
He turned to glance at Mahra one last time and then left the kitchen.
**
Hey, guys. I know it been a year and we have been away please forgive us and please understand that we had our reasons. Both Witty and Witch moved to two different cities, therefore, we were unable to write. Finally, after our finishing our summer final exams on Thursday we decided to sit and post for all those eager and loyal fans of this story!
Stay tuned for more since the story is still NOT finished.
Thank you. Lots of love ~Witty and Witch~