Bismillah.
Zayn Malik (picture above) as Harun Basil
Chapter Five: His Notes
Fatima's POV
What were the chances of seeing your ex – boyfriend again? I sometimes ask that question to myself. I told myself that the next time I see Harun, I would smile at him and make him realized what he just lost, what he let slipped away. He will see me happier than I have ever been. I would be ready for him.
But seven months have passed and yet, out of all places, out of all times, I see him in three long paces away from me, also in the same line as I am in, and will be riding the same flight with me and my arrogant weird boss. I shook my head.
I really really hate this ya Allah! But alhamdulillah, they are right behind us so I wouldn't need to see the sight of him and her, together.
I looked down at my shiny red doll shoes and without a warning, a memory popped into my head.
FLASBACK
Harun and I were having ice cream in my favorite ice cream parlor. He kept glancing at me uncomfortably until I couldn't take it anymore.
"Hey, is there something wrong?" I asked him, while I pinpointed the spoon at him, playfully, with a silly smile on my face.
He liked my silly side, he told me that once while we were photocopying files few months ago.
Harun sat up straight and placed the spoon on the small plate.
"How come you never wear light colors? I mean, don't get me wrong. It's just that today you're all brown and black and gray. Gray veil, black abaya and brown shoes. They aren't even complimentary," he said a bit seriously.
That sent a sting in my heart. I felt conscious and ... ugly. Is he embarrassed by what I was wearing? Is that the reason why he never brings me to fancy restaurants or even introduce me to his family?
"Uhm, you know that in Islam, the black color is recommended, or white. I mean even Aisha (r.a)..." I started to explain but he nod and looked away, as if annoyed by my presence or by my answer.
"Didn't the Rasulullah (s.a.w) also said to wear good beautiful clothes, since it will also show that we are blessed by Allah, as long as we don't go overboard," he explained impatiently.
"I guess you're right, I'm sorry," I said.
But what I really wanted to say was...
"I'm sorry love. I'm sorry Honey. I'm sorry Darling. I'm sorry Sweetheart."
But now, Harun never liked the endearment. He said it will only make Allah angry at us, since we shouldn't really be in a girlfriend – boyfriend relationship in the first place.
I still don't know if Harun is sincerely religious or something else.
"I think we should go home now. I don't want to miss Mahgrib prayer," I said, changing the topic.
I made a move to stand up but he touched my hand. I removed my hand right away, on impulse. Yes, Harun and I have been seeing each other for two years but we were never intimate, no kisses, no hugs, no touching, nothing. The first time he tried to kiss me, I totally freaked out and left him at the faculty lounge. Although it was lock, it still didn't feel right. I was ashamed of Allah. So Ieft without even thinking twice.
"Sorry if I offended you. Hey, to make it up to you, next week since it will be our salary, I will buy you a new pair of red shiny shoes," he said.
My eyes sparkled and my heart was beating happily. Whatever upset emotions I may have had few minutes ago were all thrown out of the window.
"Really?" I asked.
Please, please, let it be true. Because if truth be told, Harun never gave me anything, not a single thing. Well except for the engagement ring he got me few months ago which really doesn't count because I had asked him to buy it for me. Harun blinked before answering my question.
"Of course," he said warmly.
Soon, we went towards his motorcycle and he took me home. That night all I could think about was the shoes he would buy for me and how I have to change my wardrobe into light colored – clothes. Little did I know that tomorrow would be the day my very eyes would witness him kissing another woman, while my box of red shoes which he ordered to his other woman, was neatly wrapped in a gift on the table behind them, while they were doing the deed, that will haunt me again and again.
END OF FLASHBACK
"Are you alright Fatima?" my boss' familiar voice snapped me out of my recall.
"Yes," I answered softly.
We were nearing the door and I showed my passport and ticket to the flight attendant. We entered the plane and I was glad that Isaac gave me the windows seat. As I was putting my seatbelt on and opened the book I was reading, it was then Harun walked in the aisle.
He was with her. She was behind him. He saw me. I wanted to look at me and greet me so that I could smile at him, as if I have completely moved on from him.
But then, he turned away, he looked away, he pretended not to see me. And just as I was about to go back in reading my book, my eyes caught his move of holding her hand.
Wow, unbelievable. I shook my head, cleared my throat, sat up straight and started reading.
"Feeling comfortable now?" Isaac asked, concern on his voice and face.
"Yes Sir, absolutely better than I've ever been," I answered enthusiastically while at the same time, noticing Harun and Aminah seated on the left side, three seats from us.
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Isaac's POV
She was too enthusiastic than she normally would be. Something was bothering her. I could sense it. I also noticed the way she looked at a couple on our left side, three seats from us.
I wished I have Harun's picture now. But since we are on a flight and cellphones are turned off, I cannot contact my private investigator. I will definitely check the email he sent the moment this plane lands on Kalesa.
Or I could just ask her about it now. And received another slap from her? No way. So I guess I might just well withhold the suspense.
The plane started to take off, and few minutes after, we were on air. I got a magazine from the seat pocket in front of me and started or forced myself to read. But I could not concentrate, not like this, not when she is just inches from my side.
I'm itching, itching to touch her hand and let her head rest on my shoulder. I want to smell her scent, I want her to gaze into my eyes and smile at me so that my heart could beat faster than how it is now.
After a while, she got something from her purse. It was a mini – notebook and a pen. She opened the table tray and started writing. But before she wrote, she let out a heavy sigh, making me both curious and worried.
I wish so hard that I could take away her notes and read what she was writing.
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Fatima's POV
One of the reasons why I love the story The Unloved Wife is because the characters, Amir and Zainab find comfort in writing and expressed themselves freely in writing. But unlike them, I never post it on my facebook or any blog. My written notes are all in two notebooks, one big journal notebook which I left at home and this mini – notebook which I always carry with me whenever I go.
Closing my eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh, I started writing.
"Why Do People Love Then Leave?
Allah said HE created us in pairs
I thought we were a pair
Because you promised me you'd never leave
But you did and it hurt so bad.
Was it wrong to believe in love?
Was it wrong to think you were the one for me?
Was it all wrong for me to accept you?
What have I done wrong?
For you to betray and lie to me
For you to not love my modesty
For you to kiss someone else's lips
Just because I couldn't give mine to you just yet.
Maybe life teaches us lesson in a hard way
A product of our disobedience
I know Allah reads this poem I am writing in this airplane
And maybe someday, one of these days, I will believe in love again."
I was satisfied with my work, and began reading it with my eyes, for the fear that Isaac might hear it.
"Can I read too?" the voice at my side said.
I automatically closed the notebook.
"Sorry Sir, this is something personal," I reasoned out. But Isaac was already holding the notebook.
"Come on, I can see that it was a poem. Who knows it might get published?" he said, tempting me.
"Uhm," I uttered.
I did want to be a published author but letting my boss read this is like letting him see through my heart.
I shook my head.
"We're not that close for you to read this," I said, smiling at him.
How could he be so weird? And why is he always interested anything about me? Isaac looked at me. Is that worry on his face?
"Okay then, so if we established a friendship, do I get to read this?" he asked, with a grin on his face.
He looks like a little kid, a very cute little kid. This made me smile.
"Okay, perhaps in a thousand years," I teased.
"Or I could let you read something I wrote in exchange of that," he offered and moved his eyebrows up and down, making me giggle.
"Persistent are we Sir?" I teased.
He crossed his arms and said, "Well I am a very persistent man Ms. Maryam. You ought to know by now."
"Oh yeah, you hand carried me," I said, not fond of the memory.
"I apologized. It won't happen again," I said.
"And you had me investigated. I mean who does that?" she said, her voice raising a bit and then she hushed as soon as she realized what she just said and what others could think of it.
"Okay, I was overboard, I overstepped and I am sincerely, sincerely, sincerely sorry," he said, still smiling.
"Why are you smiling that way?" I asked.
"Because you're comfortable talking to me casually, like I'm not your boss," he said, with his eyes shining bright.
"Yeah, like you're not my arrogant weird boss," I teased further.
Isaac then got his phone and opened something on it.
"Here, that's my notes, sometimes I write a quote or two, never more than ten lines. Feel free to ready any of them. However, in exchanged, I will read the poem which you just wrote," he said.
Wow, he writes too. A male writer is rare in this day and age. No, make that a Muslim man writer. I am impressed. I was about to answer when I saw Aminah rose up but Harun held her shoulder. She tried to let go but Harun still held her arm. She was smiling. She looked happy, in love. I hate it. I hate it so so much. I hate her so so much.
Then she was walking, perhaps towards the comfort room, meaning she will passed by us. Not wanting her to see me, I hurriedly got Isaac's phone and gave him the notebook.
I busied myself reading, when in reality I was still conscious of Aminah walking passed by us. Alhamdulillah, she did not recognize me. But Isaac might have noticed something because he turned his head and looked at Aminah walking away.
"That lady, is she your mortal enemy or something?" he asked.
I shook my head and just chose a note from his phone. Goo, he did not ask anything more about it.
My eyes went wide as I noticed the title of the note that I just clicked. No wonder, I unconsciously chose it, because the title of the note is my name.
"Fatima
Fate brought you in my office
As soon as it did, I lost it
The composure and perhaps the sanity
Incredibly, you are a wonderful lady
Many women have tried to appeal my heart
And yet, only the sight of you and your name and your voice could make me wish that perhaps you would make a good wife."
Could this be me? I noticed that the note was created today, three hours ago. Ya Allah, what's happening all in one day? I stared at the man who seems to be worriedly reading my poem. He is too absorbed and focused. Then as if this day couldn't be more intense, I heard Aminah's voice behind us.
"Fatima?"
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"We don't search for love. Love finds us."
- Adapted Quote
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