Trust Me (An Islamic Love Story)

Chapter 69

Ms. Neela doesn't ask me many questions when I inform her about Azar coming to Suhoor to help with the chefs, though from the look on her face, I think she knows who Azar is from the news.

I watch the kids eat in the dining hall from a distance so that I don't disturb them, especially Hussain, who is eating at the table quietly. A certain kind of gratitude is expressed in the way the kids eat, and it surely lifts my spirits.

"I guess they like it," Azar startles me from behind, pleased at the sight as well. "You should eat too, you know. Come on," he beckon me to follow him into the hall, but I stay put.

"Actually," I play with my fingers, buying myself time, "I'll eat in my office. You go on." I can tell that Azar wants to question me about it, but then he decides against it and walks ahead into the hall.

An incredible scent is lingering outside the kitchens. I enter it from the back door, fill a plate with little of everything and head back into my office. I sit on the couch in my office and eat alone, occasionally sipping water. I realize how hungry I am when I begin eating, and for some reason, everything tastes super delicious, even more than Azar's usual.

I stare at the empty plate with a feeling I know is not associated with the food I ate. It is not that I think of Azar every now and then that makes my stomach clench. It is that he is always on my mind, so no matter what I am doing, my chest feels heavy as if I am carrying a weight with me.

I shake off my thoughts, knowing they all have dead ends, and pick up the plate and head back downstairs. I slip back into the kitchen and keep the plate. I decide to go back up to my room, but near the staircase, a tall, smart woman approaches me, and by the look on her and the coat hanging off her arm, I assume her to be the counselor.

"Yes?" I ask her politely.

"Ma'am Abeer, I wish to ask you something, if you don't mind," she talks to me with utmost formality. "I am the counselor, Laila Hamd."

"Is it about the kid Hussain?" I ask her directly, not wanting to beat around the bush.

"Yes, it is," she replies, not disturbed at all by my bluntness. "You see, it is my duty as a therapist to know what is bothering my clients, and as in this case, they are kids, it is even a bigger responsibility of mine to know and a tougher job too. I wish to have a session arranged with you."

"I don't understand," I say untruthfully.

"I know Hussain's trauma was triggered by you appearing, and therefore, I want to know why," she explains.

"We don't need to arrange an entire session for that," I argue a bit rudely so I add, "Look, I haven't had any good experiences with counselors or therapists or psychologists or anyone in a similar field. So it is hard for me to believe your sole motive is Hussain's well-being. I think," I pause hesitantly, "you want to figure out what's wrong with me."

Dr. Laila chuckles to my surprise. "You are smart, but I don't want to figure you out. I want to help you."

"I am fine on my own," I retort. I calm myself down before continuing, "I will ask for your help if I need it, doctor, but right now, I feel like you are intruding in my personal life. I think my consent matters here. I do appreciate your help, but I rather have you help the children here first."

"I understand," she says, to my relief. "But I do care about Hussain, Ma'am, and I really want to know what happened to him to help him. Do you know the kid?"

I am taken aback by her question, but I answer her after I recollect myself, "I can't say if I know him, but I have met him before. In fact, in the very room, you counsel him." I take a deep breath, trying my best not to panic as I recall the incident. "The man who abducted me—"