Trust Me (Fiction Based On Islamic Faith)

Chapter 76

I meet up with Dr. Laila around the afternoon the next day before she leaves for her holidays. "Any progress?" She inquires.

"Barely and a lot," I admit with a nervous laugh. "But I know I can do this."

"That's the spirit," she encourages. "What is keeping you?"

"Mostly fear has, but time right now," I tell her. "I have thought a lot about what I have to say, and I will tonight In Sha Allah."

"Best of luck In Sha Allah," she assures. "No matter what happens, Abeer, you need to remember you are not alone and there is always help. You can call me if you need me."

"Thank you," I say, truly meaning it.

To say I am jittery is an underestimation. I spend the day pacing in my room with the paper in my hands. It has creased so much as I have been fidgeting with it.

Ghost letter, divorce, Abbas, the day I left, the day you left, Iyaas, R

Three down —sort of— four more to go. Determined to not spiral, I refocus my energy and go to the kids. I ask them if they want to play outside, and they cheer at my suggestion.

The weather is brilliant. A few clouds drift away in the blueish-pink sky, a slight fragrance of flowers fills the playground, and the leaves in the trees lightly rustle from the breeze.

Asma and Fatima settle on the swings, and I push them to give them momentum. Huda, Wafa, and Zainab are running around, and Amir, Laith, and Hussain are playing with the ball.

"Higher, higher!" Asma asks, and I push a little more.

I move towards Asif, standing alone near the bench, playing with a toy by himself. I pat his head to get his attention, but he is unbothered by me, so I let him be.

Just as I am sitting on the bench, Huda runs up to me and insists, "You become the catcher, Abee!"

I want to be free of my hesitation. So I join them. I join everyone. I run around with the girls, and I play with the boys, and I laugh and laugh until there are tears in my eyes.

Hussain teaches me how to shoot the ball while Laith defends the made-up goalpost. I listen to what he instructs, and I shoot and score.

"Yay!" I jump excitedly and high-five Hussain. "My man!"

"You are good," I hear Azar from behind, and I turn. I don't know for how long he has been standing there because I was too occupied in the game to notice. I am conscious of myself, but I smile anyways because he is smiling, and I am glad he is finally back.

"Don't flatter me," I mutter, even though I still feel high from the excitement of playing.

"I am not flattering you. That was good," Azar persists, but I am unconvinced. "Okay, wait," To my surprise, he picks up Asif and holds him up high. Asif is not even startled. "Asif will decide. Was that a good shot or am I flattering her?"

Asif looks around, his toy still in his hand. Everyone stops what they are doing and anticipates his reply. "Both," he answers, and Azar chuckles and puts him down. He messes up his hair affectionately, but Asif doesn't mind and waddles away. "The boy has given the verdict. Can't go against it."

"Ah, alright," I give in.

Azar visits the kitchen and helps with Iftar as the staff is lesser today. After breaking the fast, the boys hoot a bit in the celebration that Ramadan is over. However, I feel a mixture of sadness and joy.

I notice Azar too seems a bit off, so after Iftar, as we walk out of the hall, I ask him, "Is everything okay? How did it go at work?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," he assures. "The author liked my idea of not choosing the door."