"Look who's here!"
Diya turned to where her cousin Zahra motioned, her eyes drifting to the side of the street where she saw her aunt and uncle, Kawthar, Adam and of course Khalid walking towards them. Her gaze lingered for a little longer before they fell on the female figure concealed behind them.
As per their traditions, the whole neighbourhood celebrated Eid together out on the streets, fabric and carpet strewn over the dusty roads, topped off with majlis cushions to create an outdoor social atmosphere. Families intermingled over piled plates and trays of scrumptious food under candle-lit lanterns that strung above them, their flames imitating the glow of the stars above them.
This year, Diya and her family from both her mother and father's side had joined the celebrations at her eldest aunt's street. As always, the street was bustling with laughter and chatter whilst a delectable aroma of saffron rice and grilled meat danced along the entire length of the neighbourhood. Diya loved the warm atmosphere of Eid, especially because she was surrounded by her excited cousins who were now waving at Kawthar, not yet having noticed the extra guest that had joined them. Though she still felt a hint of sadness with the absence of her sister. If only Haifa was here to give her the strength, especially with the arrival of the surprise guest.
She frowned.
Just when Diya thought she could forget about Ameera's request, low and behold, she was here. Since that day, her cousin had been coming to the Academy frequently to mentor the students. Of course, Ameera couldn't have been happier, for it only gave her more chances to speak with him. However, it was the complete opposite for her. The more she saw him, the greater her heart would pound in her chest, to the point where she was almost convinced she was sick. Not only was her heart racing, but every time she saw him smile at Ameera, a sharp pain would befall her. And despite feeling all of this, she still ignored her feelings. She promised to help Ameera and that was that. There was no going back.
"Wait-isn't that-"
As Kawthar waved back at them, the shy figure appeared behind her, gazing around shyly until their eyes met.
"Ameera," Diya muttered to herself, but her cousins must have heard because they all turned to her.
"She is the girl from Kawthar's wedding, right?" Layla enquired, earning a nod from Diya.
"She is also my mentor,"
"No way,"
Her cousins looked flabbergasted. Today would have been the perfect day for Diya to explain if only Ameera had not showed up.
"Diya!" Ameera smiled, waving excitedly at her.
And all the while, a cloud of guilt surfaced her mind. Ameera thought of her as a friend, a close confidant, and if not for the fact that they liked the same person, Diya would have reciprocated the same mutual feeling.
"What is she doing here?" Amna whispered, only to receive a stern glare from her elder sister.
Diya got up from her seat to greet her friend, making sure to muster up a smile to hide her disappointment.
"Eid Mubarak! It's so nice to see you here!"Ameera flung her arms at Diya and gave her a squeeze.
"What brings you here?" Diya asked, looking at Kawthar.
"Ameera and her father visited just as we were about to leave and so we told them to join us here," Kawthar replied.
Diya nodded. "Did your mother not come?"
Ameera's smile instantly dipped though it was obvious to Diya that she was trying to brush it off with her awkward laugh.
"Our cousins are seated over there, come and join us," Kawthar announced, breaking the thick silence. She motioned to where the girls sat and they all smiled and waved back.
"I would love to!" Ameera clapped.
"Make sure you don't leave her out," came a gruff voice behind them, of which Diya recognised all too well. Khalid walked over to them with Kawthar's husband Amr beside him.
Her heart immediately began racing. Both because of his presence and because of his words.
"My cousins can be a bit wild," he added.
Their eyes met for a split second before he turned to Ameera, giving one of his rarest smiles.
"Oh please, we're just a fun bunch," Kawthar retaliated.
"Just my type of people!"
Again, Diya watched as Khalid smiled at Ameera. She could have sworn she saw something buzzing between them and instead looked away, fiddling with the tassel on her sleeve.
Just as Kawthar led Ameera over to the girls, Khalid cleared his throat, which made Diya freeze in her steps.
"Her mother passed away last year,"
She turned to face him, mortified at his confession. Heat rose to her face.
"Oh-I d-didn't know,"
"Of course you wouldn't, she is still too traumatised to talk about it,"
Something in his tone made Diya want to run away and hide from him. Not a hint of warmth was present in the words he exchanged with her. Though she couldn't help but feel curious as to how he knew, if she hadn't had the courage to tell Diya, especially when Ameera thought of her as a close friend. Before she could muster a reply, he walked off, leaving Diya to wallow in her own guilt. It was only when her cousins called out to her did she finally take a seat.
As her cousins introduced themselves again, Diya became distracted, her eyes wandering to where Khalid sat with the male members of their family a little further down from them. She had made a fool out of herself in front of him.
"I apologise about before, it was foolish of me to ask," Diya whispered to her as they dug into the food.
"No, it's fine. It's my fault for not telling you," Ameera smiled.
"Tell what?" Kawthar asked shuffling closer to them.
"Oh-um,"
"My mother passed away last year," Ameera announced, bringing the attention of the other girls. Diya noticed her eyes water. "It was a very difficult time for me, but Khalid was so helpful. After the Janazah, he visited my father often. He also helped me to move on,"
"Wow, really?" Kawthar replied.
Ameera nodded.
"I'm surprised our cousin is capable of doing so when he never shows us a smile. It's so hard to make him laugh too," Zahra added.
"It's funny you say that because he always makes sure to say hello when we run into each other,"
"You must be special then," Diya blurted out.
All her cousins faced her, raising their brows curiously.
"I hope," She heard Ameera mutter, whilst taking a glass of water to her lips.
Later when Ameera had left with her father, the girls were still seated around the cushions sipping on small glasses of tea, enjoying the coolness of the night. Despite the lateness, many families were still lounging around and speaking in hushed tones. In the distant, faint thrums of drums echoed across to their street. As the girls chattered away, still lively with energy, Diya couldn't help but overhear the conversation of her aunts.
"So that girl from before,"
"You mean the one that came with Sara and Kawthar?"
"Ah yes, Ameera," Her aunt Sara confirmed.
"She seems nice,"
"She is a lovely girl mashallah,"
"I spoke to her and she has such a beautiful smile," her own mother added.
"So is it true Khalid is looking to find a bride?"
"Yes,"
"So what about Ameera?"
Kawthar's mother laughed. "If Khalid does, I would be more than happy to have her,"
"They definitely suit each other,"
Diya frowned because no matter how much she tried to deny it herself, they were right. Ameera really was the perfect candidate for her cousin, and even without Diya's help it was was already obvious it wouldn't be long until the aunts got their answer, because her cousin would definitely choose Ameera.
Diya just knew without a doubt.
***
Husaam watched from the dusty balcony of a shut bakery as the sky exploded into a rainbow of fire for the final time tonight. As the third day of the Eid celebrations was coming to an end, he felt the agitation growing. A voice in his head kept criticising the fact that he missed his opportunity to enter the Palace again and finish his revenge plan once and for all. Instead, he tried to soothe the evil voice, trying to reassure it that it was for the best and that he would have another chance. Tomorrow he would finally be done with the problem that interfered with his scheme.
From his height, Husaam dragged his eyes away from the colourful crackling light and peered down at the neighbouring courtyard which was bustling with people, who too were enjoying the fireworks display. Despite the crowd, he still managed to spot the girl who weaved through them balancing a tray of drinks, offering them to her guests. Instead of a light veil wrapped loosely around her head, her hair was fully exposed and tied into a messy plait. She probably didn't have the time to pause and fix her appearance because of how occupied she was. Her clothes were slightly different from her usual drab but not as flashy and celebratory as the garments her wealthy merchant guests wore.
She dashed inside the building again, reappearing with a full tray of filled glasses, giving every one of her guests a smile as she handed them their drinks and muttering a few words to them. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the festivities and fireworks except for her. Those rich merchants who had come to stay at her foster parent's motel would never understand the deep turmoil that the girl felt, except for Husaam. He knew she was busying herself to get her mind off of the events of tomorrow, for tomorrow would be the beginning of her torturous life. Or so she thought because Husaam was going to make sure it didn't happen. Heck, he had even prolonged killing that stupid Prince for her sake.
Tomorrow, he was going to gate-crash her wedding.
***
Salma has not had a wink of sleep the previous night, and so when the first light of daybreak peaked through her curtains, she dragged herself out of her bed and splashed her face with cold water, hoping it would wash away the last of her fatigue. Twisting her hair into a braid, she quietly tiptoed out of her room and headed down to the foyer. The motel was dead silent, as the guests and her foster parents included, still slumbered away after a night of celebrating the last day of Eid. Despite having spent the whole of yesterday on her feet, Salma hoped it would have been enough to exhaust her and put her out, but the moment she flopped into bed and closed her eyes, the doomed truth snapped back and her mind became restless to the point where she could not find the peace to sleep.
As she climbed down the dusty stairs with heavy footsteps, Salma's stomach started to rumble with the pangs of hunger. Before heading to the pantry and kitchen, she did a lap around the large dining room, reception and seating areas, pulling back all the curtains to allow the young rays of warmth in. This would be her final time doing so. At that thought, her emotions threatened to burst, when the rumbling of her stomach replaced such thoughts with hunger. So she headed to the kitchen where the remnants of last nights celebrations had filled the washbasin with spoiled glasses and clay plates. Thankfully, the cooks had remembered to cover the last bits of food with palm leaves, preventing the flies from touching them. As she uncovered the metal trays, to her luck she found a slice of kunafa and two baklava pieces.
Grabbing them onto a clean clay plate, she put them to one side and searched for a small metal pot. Filling it halfway with water, Salma reached for the best tea leaves hidden at the back of the pantry and scooped a generous amount before dumping the contents into the pot. Today, she would treat herself, not caring if the cooks or her foster mother found out she had used the most valuable tea leaves. They would finally be rid of her existence anyway.
She then carried the full pot out of the kitchen to the outdoor stove and placed it on top of the metal grill. With the firestarter, she produced a spark that blossomed into a flame the moment it flew onto the dry leaves. When she entered back in, the motel was still silent.
Salma smiled for the first time this week. Finally, she had time to herself. It was extraordinarily rare to find the motel completely quiet, but she guessed everyone must have crashed from all the celebrating last night.
It felt good to rebel for once. But if only she could rebel against this crazy wedding.
Running away had been on her mind but she dismissed the thought when trial after trial blocked her from her freedom. Where would she go and with what money? She would definitely be found if she stayed within the city, and if she left, someone else would be after her. Someone crueller than her foster mother. In Balqaas, she was safe because none of the king's men would so much as to be allowed to enter without being imprisoned for trespassing into enemy territory. That's why she was safe here, and so was Husaam, unless he had left the city already.
At least this wedding was better than her past circumstance, but she still felt a hint of guilt towards Husaam. Despite her aided escape from forcefully becoming the tyrant ruler of Rughad's doll, she was still living an unhappy life although she was grateful to be in a much better situation than before.
Before her horrific memories of the past resurfaced, she mentally shook her head off the thoughts and grabbed the plate full of sweet goods, she skipped back out and plopped herself on the mud stool beside the stove. The tea had begun to steam, so she muttered a bismillah and dug into the kunafa first. The rose flavour intertwined with the sweet syrup bought joy to her tastebuds and she hummed in delight. If she had been caught eating dessert, her foster mother would be sure to give her a beating, but Salma couldn't care less today.
How long had it been since she had the luxury of eating such desserts?
The tea had begun to boil so she licked the syrup off her fingers and skipped back into the kitchen where she snatched a clean gold-rimmed tea glass with its matching glass saucer. Carefully, she poured the steaming liquid into her glass and put it down beside her to cool. I n the meantime, she watched the sky turn a brilliant blue rinsing away its streaks of orange. Everyone would be up soon. She quickly munched on the last baklava and washed down the sweetness with the bitter tea. As she rinsed her glass, she heard hurried footsteps run down the stairs, before the kitchen door burst open, revealing her heaving foster mother.
"Don't even think about running away today," she spat, storming over to Salma and digging her nails into her arm.
"I wasn't going to," she retorted drying her hands, but her words were futile. Her foster mother grabbed her arm and dragged her back upstairs, pushing her back in her room.
"You better stay here until Umm Jafr arrives with your dress," she screeched, before slamming the door shut.
Salma huffed. Today was surely going to be a long day.
After Salma had arranged her bed, she looked all around the room. Most of her belongings had fit into one trunk, and now the room was bare except for her bed. A knock pulled her out of her thoughts, and the door opened to reveal her foster father. Instead of coming in, he stayed by the door and watched as Salma tidied her belongings.
She couldn't look at him, and so instead pretended to sort through her trunk. Not that it needed sorting.
"Have you packed everything," came his gentle voice, breaking the thick silence.
Salma nodded, still refusing to look at him.
"Salma, I'm s-"
"I would rather not hear it and besides, it's too late to fix things," she spat.
"Salma-"
"Can I have some time alone please?" she pleaded, turning to him with an irritated expression.
Thankfully, it had been enough because her foster father backed away, slowly shutting the doors behind him.
Salma buried her face in her hands as sobs escaped her lips. She hated treating her foster father this way, especially when he had done so much for her in the past.
Jafr's mother had arrived later, bringing her outfit, which thankfully, looked decent. Salma felt her soul suffocate with every squeeze of the bodice as her foster mother tightened the strings on her back. She couldn't even bring herself to look at her reflection, afraid that it would remind her of her misfortune.
Salma's mind was a blur of memories as she kept her eyes closed whilst someone patted all sorts of things onto her face. Her hair was left unveiled, tumbling down her shoulders in bouncy curls. Once they were done, she was escorted out of her room by her foster mother and they headed downstairs where the foyer was filled with guests who clapped and cheered for her. Thanks to her foster mother who had paraded around for the past week announcing Salma's wedding, all the guests knew. Many had even sincerely congratulated her.
Salma dug inwards and willed herself to smile back as they headed out, her foster father taking her by the arms.
"Mashallah, you look beautiful," he whispered to her.
A film of moisture filled her eyes.
The moment they arrived at the local masjid, she was ready to hurl her sweet breakfast all over her red dress. As much as she wished to dash away from everyone, she couldn't.
For this wedding had to go on.
***
Husaam yanked the doors of the mosque open, making sure he did so with such dramatic attitude. As expected, all eyes turned to him with surprise and even the imam hushed his speech. With his ridiculous disguise, Husaam stormed in fake moustache and all, towards the front where the bride and groom sat, whirling past the astonished expressions of the guests.
As he got closer, his eyes fell on the bride. That one look had been enough.
Seated on the carpeted floor by the front foot of the Minbar, was the person he was saving from this mess. She looked awkward in the red dress that clasped to her skinny frame. It looked unusual to him too, especially when he was used to her seeing in oversized drabs of dullness. Her facial features were accentuated with glittering powder and the rouge made her lips look fuller.
Husaam itched to wipe it off her lips.
Returning his attention on the task, he grabbed the groom by the collar and pulled him up of the cushion.
"You son of a-"
Husaam had readied his fist in the air to strike.
"What is the meaning of this?!" screeched a plump lady. The crowd all gasped in shock.
Salma fell back in shock of the intruder's sudden arrival. She slowly shuffled away from them, her eyes shaking with fear and then relief, not because of the sudden chaos, but because she had almost consented to marry Jafr!
Something felt oddly familiar about the intruder as she gazed at him.
It couldn't be!
"Husa-" but before she could complete his name, she clasped her mouth shut, hoping no one else was paying attention to her. She doubted it, especially when all eyes were focused on Jafr dangling by his collar.
Husaam's eyes met hers for a second before he turned back to Jafr, grasping his collar tighter.
He mentally smiled. Time for his brilliant acting to skills to bloom.
"How dare you!" He boomed into the groom's face, who now was trembling with fear. "How dare you leave my sister and your child to wed yourself again!"
Another round of gasps echoed throughout the crowd.
"W-what?" Squeaked the groom.
Salma watched amusingly, though she made sure her expression was that of complete confusion and distress.
"What is going on?"
Husaam turned to the Imam.
"This bastard left my beloved sister after making her pregnant and ran off with all his wealth, not leaving a single penny for my sister to feed herself!"
The Imam turned to the Groom with a look of incredulity.
"W-wait w-what? I did no such thing!" Jafr retaliated, trying to loosen the grip on his collar to no avail.
"Don't you dare try to lie out of this!"
With a rough push, Husaam flung the Groom to the floor, aiming a finger at him as he tried to compose himself again.
"This man is a liar! Whilst he is here reeling in another victim to play with my sister is struggling to feed his child because she is malnourished!"
"What are you talking about!"
Jafr scrambled off the floor and flattened the creases from his clothes.
"You won't fool another woman, and I have come here to make sure of it!" Husaam bellowed.
People began to whisper between themselves in unbelief.
"What nonsense are you spouting!"
The same plump woman from before stormed over to Husaam, standing in front of her son and holding her arms out like a shield.
"Your son is a disgrace of a man, he dares to play with a woman and abandons her when they are with his child!"
"Is this true?" Came the voice of another elder man, who gently picked up the bride from the carpeted floor.
"Of course not! T-this man is spouting nonsense!" replied the groom's mother.
"I don't even know this man!" Babbled the groom, who was clutching his mother's shoulders and hiding behind her figure.
"You dare to lie in front of all these witnesses! I ought to-" Husaam was about to grab for Jafr but the man from before stepped forward.
"Is it true, did Jafr leave your sister and child?"
"She is not the first to suffer before her many others have too. Jafr is a notorious women-player!"
Salma couldn't help but feel slightly guilty that she was enjoying this. As much as they were all exaggerated lies, there was a hint of truth in the accusations. Jafr really was disreputable with women.
Her foster father didn't utter a word at the moustache man's answer and instead turned to Jafr who was still cowering behind his mother with anger scrawled all over his face.
"To think I had agreed to marry my daughter to you,"
"Wait no, that man is lying!" Stuttered Jafr.
"Are you going to believe this stranger over my son?!" Screeched Umm Jafr.
"So you deny the fact that your son is a playboy even though you secretly let him be?"
The crowd gasped again, giving the groom judging glares.
"You knew what your son was doing, how he was treating girls, yet you let him be!"
"That's it, this wedding is called off! I refuse to marry my Salma to your filthy son!" Her foster father shouted before he stormed past them and grabbed Salma's arm. "This wedding is over!"
"Salma wait!" Jafr spat, reaching out for her.
"W-wait," came her foster mother, but her voice had been blocked out. Her foster father stormed out of the Masjid pulling her along, the shocked crowd following them not before they gave Jafr and his parents disgusted glares, tutting their heads in disappointment.
Salma broke out into a smile and just before the doors of the mosque shut behind them, she turned back to where the shocked Imam sat but her guardian angel with a moustache had disappeared into thin air.
Husaam had saved her again and disappeared without giving her a chance to thank him.
***
"What are we going to do?" She heard her foster mother say through the slightly ajar door of their bedroom. "Is she going to stay with us for the rest of our lives?"
"Yes, until we can find her a suitable husband and this time it won't be rushed. We are not making the same mistake again,"
"And when do you plan on letting her go, when will she finally be a burden we can rid of?"
"She was never a burden, at least I never thought of her like that. Salma is my daughter, not a burden. If you dislike it that much then you can leave,"
"But haven't you forgotten about her past? How do you expect me to take a slave girl whose chastity has been spoiled as my own?"
"It wasn't her choice, she was taken as a prisoner along with the rest of her people. She will stay here whether you like it or not,"
"She isn't even your blood!"
"But she has been a better daughter to me than you have ever been to me as my wife. In her I see Jasmine, in her I see what our real daughter would have become if not for-"
There was a pause before he continued.
"Because of you, because of my greed and selfishness, I was about to force her into a marriage she never wanted and you don't know how much I regret doing so,"
Salma wiped her wet face with her damp shawl.
"This time, I'm not letting her go,"
***
Lunch was fairly quiet.
Both Haifa and the Princess were sat on the balcony of Thaina's workshop, overlooking the burnt umber rooves of the city around them. A large rug had been stretched over the tiles and velvet cushions piled together forming a comfy seating space. Trays of food filled the rest of the space, enough to satisfy twice their company. Encompassing them were cream drapes of sheer material dancing as the breeze blew through them, shielding them from the outside and from the sun's severe glare.
The Princess looked distracted as she slowly munched on her food, gazing out at the azure sky through the curtains. Haifa glanced at the frown on her face, trying to finding the right time to ask her the cause of her mood.
However, just as the words slipped her tongue, the Princess spoke up before her.
"I cannot bear children,"
Haifa dropped the cherry tomato she was clasping. The plump fruit bounced on her plate twice and rolled, thankfully stopping right by the rim.
Thaina finally met her gaze. "Because I can't, I told the Prince to acquire a consort, to remarry, for the sake of bearing an heir,"
She watched as Haifa gazed at her, her hand frozen in mid-air. No words of response.
"Say something," she pleaded, but Haifa couldn't. Her heart had stopped and the words were stuck in her throat.
"I-I don't know what to say,"
Thaina sighed. "My mother gave me the same reaction when I informed her,"
"Is it something serious?" Haifa asked, her eyes scrawled with concern.
Thaina shook her head. "I've had many examinations with several physicians but none could seem to find a problem in me. We have been trying for years now but...it is most likely because I've always had a weak body,"
"Alhamdulillah it isn't anything too serious, but you are sure they couldn't find anything?"
Thaina nodded and sighed again. "I don't know how to tell my Ammati. I feel s-so disgraced to give her the news,"
"You needn't feel that way, she will understand. Besides, it is not in your control. But are you sure you want the Prince to marry again?"
The Princess was quiet.
"It would be selfish of me to hold him back from doing so,"
Haifa soaked her hands in a bowl of clean water and dried them on a linen handkerchief, her appetite lost.
"I'm sorry I can't be of much help but I think you should talk with him properly about this, and with the Queen too,"
"No no, it is alright, I just wanted to inform you about this,"
Haifa clasped the Princess' hand.
Thaina felt the tears puddle around her waterline and as much as she tried to blink them back, a few had managed to escape. Just as she was about to wipe her chin, her sister-in-law beat her to it, gently patting on her skin.
"Thank you,"
Haifa shook her head. "You don't need to be, we're sisters after all,"
"Enough about me," The Princess sniffed. "I've noticed you have been ignoring Abbas,"
"Ah...well-um it's complicated,"
Thaina chuckled. "Well, I'm glad to know that we're both avoiding our husbands,"
Meena stepped out into the balcony with a tray of tea and desserts.
"Who needs them when we have each other's company and dessert!" Haifa jeered.
After the two had cheered up over dessert, Haifa had decided to head to the Grand Library with the help of her handmaiden. She was sure to find more detailed books on medicine, some that could give her a clue to the Princess' problem. This was the least she could do to help.
Besides, she didn't have the strength to face Abbas. Hopefully, procrastinating would also give her the time to muster up an apology and explanation. In the past week, it had become a part of her routine to spend most of the day in the company of books. As her imagination delved into the range of stories, both recalling memories of history and describing old fables, she could escape from the stories that were circulating the Palace of the recent incident. Thankfully, the Prince had been too occupied to bother her, which gave her time to enjoy her own company.
Though she had been a few times with him, Haifa could never get to the library on her own. Because it was mainly preoccupied with scholars and professors teaching students, the Library was an outdoor extension of the main Palace, located on the eastern side, and to get there she had to cross through one of the many courtyards.
Two grand doors guarded the entrance of the Library. The interior was nothing like the traditional designs of the Palace. Haifa had never seen any building like it. Instead of marble and tiles, planks of wood formed a mosaic pattern to create a smooth flawless walkway whilst the walls were made of brick the colour of sun-dried tomatoes. Every wall was decorated with rows and rows of leather-bound books, stacked upon one another in an orderly fashion, to preserve them in the best way possible. On the ground floor, shelves lined the walls whilst the centre had been cleared for a seating area. The wide tables were higher than usual, almost thrice the height than the ones she had ever seen. Neatly tucked under them, were identical objects with four legs and a spine all created from the same wood.
The first time she had come, Abbas had informed her they were chairs. Haifa found it hard to believe such contraptions were seating but once she had tried, it was oddly comfortable. Unlike Majlis cushions, one could rest your back on them, though it did become uncomfortable when she sat for too long.
Haifa had never seen anything like it.
"It had been designed and built by a northern ally as a gift of our alliance, during the reign of my great grandfather," she remembered him explaining.
On the second level, a maze of shelves stood back to back, each clasping words of knowledge in their arms. The two floors were connected by a grand spiral staircase carved out of the darkest brown wood and every time she would walk up them, the wood would creak from beneath her feet, echoing throughout the expanse. Warm sunlight streamed in through the glass roof bathing the dusty books in a yellow hue, another mechanism to avoid the mugworts and bookworms from eating their way through the precious pages of wisdom.
As she entered, Haifa saw a group of robed men with long white beards head towards the exit. They all kept their gazes low when they strode past.
"Is something going on today?" she whispered to Meena, whilst searching through the row of dusty books.
"I'm not sure Sahiba, shall I go and ask?"
"No, no it's ok,"
Once the sun began its descent, Haifa headed back to the Palace, taking a few books with her to read later. Of course, her handmaiden insisted on carrying them all and so just to please her, Haifa gave her one book to carry, whilst she carried the other two.
The Palace seemed louder than usual. As she rounded one of the main hallways, Haifa noticed Abbas and a few men exiting from one of the rooms with glum faces, a crowd following behind them. She noticed many in white robes, the scholars from before. They were talking in hushed voices, the Prince occupied in conversation with them.
Haifa slowly stepped back, aware that maybe it was best to avoid the crowd and find another way around, incase many had been there during the Eid Banquet. Besides, from their serious expressions, it seemed that the congregation that just ended was not positive.
Just when she was swivelled around, a voice called out to her.
"Haifa?"
She whipped her head around, a smile breaking loose when she noticed her father standing beside the Prince. The crowd began to disperse as she skipped over engulfing her free arm around her father.
"What brings you here!" she beamed, unable to contain her excitement.
"I was attending a congregation," her father answered, stroking her cheek with his callused hands.
Haifa clasped them in her soft grip. "You didn't tell me you were coming here today,"
"I thought your husband would tell you," he replied, motioning to Abbas, who cleared his throat and looked away.
Haifa smiled at his reaction, before turning back to her father. "I am so happy to see you here, how are Mama and Diya?"
"Alhamdulillah they are well. Diya has been busy with her training. Habeebati, there is something I must discuss with you,"
Haifa noticed the frown forming on her father's face, and glanced at the Prince. He too, however, did not meet her eyes.
"Of course, go ahead," she replied, noticing how the air had changed.
"Let us walk and talk as I must head back before your mother and sister worry,"
Haifa was already worried. She knew when her father spoke with such tone, it wouldn't be positive. They began walking back to the front of the Palace, Abbas lingering a step behind whilst Meena excused herself further away.
"News has reached my ears that things didn't go well at the Eid banquet, a particular spat occurred if I am correct. I didn't expect to be bombarded with questions about you when I came here,"
Haifa felt her heart stop. Her feet, however, kept walking.
"What happened?"
She couldn't form a reply. Of course, her father would come to hear about what happened.
Instead of words, uncontrollable tears escaped from her. She hung her head low, clasping the books in her hand as the tears collected on their leather jackets. Thankfully, the path was not that busy to witness her tears.
Behind her, she heard the Prince sigh.
"I need to hear it from your perspective," her father continued.
Gulping down the thorns in her throat, she spoke, her voice barely audible over their footsteps. "T-they were speaking evil about m-me and the Prince,"
Abdul Hameed clasped his hands behind his back.
"And do you think your actions were any better?"
The harshness in his tone lit a flame of anger in her. Of all people, she would have expected her father to console her.
"No matter how bad they spoke of you, you should have turned your cheek,"
Haifa stopped, digging her nails in the books. In response, they all halted too.
"I did and I tried but they cornered me and kept pushing and pushing-"
"You should have just ignored it,"
"How," she burst out, finally turning to her father, tears streaking down her rosy cheeks. "How could I stay calm when they surrounded me and taunted me and not just me, my husband as well!"
"Ustad," Abbas called out, his eyes turning soft at the sight of his weeping wife.
"You should have been careful, Azeezati. You are the wife of a Prince, and because of this everyone is talking about you. Do you how sad it makes me to hear about this, about you?"
"Baba-"
"Haifa, I'm disappointed in you,"
His relentless words felt like a mountain being placed on her chest, crushing the air out of her lungs and compressing her heart. Never in her twenty-three years had her father spoken such words of disapproval. Haifa felt her legs begin to shake and her grip on the books loosening. The flame of anger had been blown out, leaving but a tendril of pain.
Abbas could do nothing. As much as he wanted to intervene, he knew he couldn't for this was between father and daughter. All he could do was watch as his Mentor gazed at his wife with such discontent. Watching Haifa's lips tremble and eyes dull brought a sharp pain in his chest, aware of how much her father's words affected her.
She began shuffling back, taking a step away from her father and the books slid from her hand, thudding to the ground with a loud bang.
Haifa turned away from them and sprinted off in the opposite direction.
"Sahiba!" her handmaiden called out, running off after her.
Abbas strode over to where the books sat lifeless on the ground and scooped them up from their thick spines.
"You should go to her," he heard the general say.
"Let me walk you out first,"
So Abbas walked quietly, clasping Haifa's books, with Abdul Hameed until they got the main foyer.
"I hope I wasn't too harsh," The general muttered.
Abbas didn't reply.
"I was, wasn't I?"
"I'm afraid you weren't the only one, I was too,"
The greying general sighed.
"Before I forget, please give this to my daughter. It's a letter from her sister. Hopefully, the contents will cheer her up,"
Abbas took the folded paper. Stamping it shut was a ring of hardened wax, a floral pattern imprinted on it.
"I will be sure to give it to her,"
"JazakAllah, for everything,"
"Wa iyakum,"
"No really, thank you for taking care of my daughter. I couldn't have entrusted anyone else,"
Abdul Hameed clapped his hand on the Prince's back and as they headed out into the heat, a servant strolled towards them with his horse.
"Ustad, may I ask you something?"
"Go ahead," the General replied, returning his gaze to the Prince.
"Well-its concerning...nevermind,"
"Are you sure?"
The Prince nodded. "Now that I think about it, it is not that important,"
"Is it about her scar?"
"Hm? No no, you needn't worry. I don't want to delve into something unnecessary,"
"Well if you insist. You should go to her now, she needs you,"
"Take care,"
"I will see you later inshallah," "Oh and tell Haifa I apologise for my words. I didn't mean to be so harsh, I can't imagine how difficult it must have been for her, for you both,"
"Alhamdulillah, at least we have each other to rely on,"
Abdul Hameed smiled. He then mounted his horse, twirling the reigns tightly around his knuckles.
"I entrust her to you,"
"And I will give my all to protect her and make her smile. She is in safe hands," Abbas assured, patting Tuffaha's mane. The horse huffed in content, guzzling its nose into the Prince's hand.
Abbas stepped back and watched as Abdul Hameed trotted around the fountain and headed out for the gates. He waited by the pillars until his mentor had galloped down the dusty path and out of sight.
He then headed back into the Palace to find his beloved wife, unaware that this would be the last moments he spent with his father-in-law.
Glossary:
Bismillah - In the name of God (a phrase said before starting anything)
Imam - Muslim version of a priest
Minbar - podium/area where the Imam stands/sits
Alhamdulillah - Thank God
Ammati - Paternal Aunt
Sahiba - Your Highness
Azeezati - Sweety/Honey
Jazakallah - Thank you (polite/formal)
Wa Iyakum - You're welcome