Lesser Evil

13| The Princess

"Ayat," A voice called out, accompanied by a featherlight brush of fingers on my cheek.

In my head, it was Shahzad.

In reality, it was the house's caretaker.

"Yes?" I fought back the urge to sleep in and stay in bed for the whole damn day like I'd been doing for the past forty-eight hours.

"You need to get out of your room, Ayat. You're rotting away." I didn't exactly hate the idea of rotting away when I felt so... empty.

I'd called her last night to inform her that I required her presence today because the house was a mess. Now, I was regretting ever doing that. It's not like anyone was going to see the house or anything.

"I'm fine this way." The elderly woman only sighed, giving up already. She wasn't a pushy person to start with, not at all nosey, knew went to draw a line and when to stop mingling with someone else's business.

"Princess—"

My breath caught in my throat. "Don't call me that." I almost snapped at her but I was already struggling to speak as it is.

Her face twisted in concern and confusion. It made me feel awful when she rubbed my back despite my behavior. "You've never had a problem with me calling you that before, Ayat." I hadn't. She'd been with my family for years before I was even born. She was my mother's best friend despite being in the position of her maid. She'd told me my mother used to call me that before she passed away when I was three.

Now, the word held another meaning. Something that was more valuable.

The only thing that didn't change was that whoever called me by that name left me.

"I'm sorry, it's just..."

"You're turning pale." She pointed out before she held up a glass of water to me. "I do not know what has happened with you in the past two weeks but I'm here to listen if you ever want to say, okay?"

I nodded, recalling the past two weeks in my head and wincing. "I just miss Dad, that's it." I said with a sad smile. It was an excuse, but the truth as well.

"What happened to him was truly tragic." It was, the accident she knew about was just as tragic as the murder I knew about. He died on impact with a truck and the car caught fire on the spot, leaving nothing but ashes behind.

Tragic.

"I'm going to go and prepare breakfast for you, come down after freshening up." She commanded. I could do nothing but inwardly groan as I threw back the covers, instantly shivering at the loss of warmth against the cold winter.

Washing my face, brushing my teeth, combing through my hair, dressing into something more presentable— all were tiresome tasks that drained me before the day even started.

My footsteps on the porcelain tiled floor echoed through the cold house as I made my way down the stairs and sat on the small dining table. Dad had gotten it when I'd fallen in love with the marble design of the tabletop. I sighed, tracing a few lines with my finger.

"Missing him?"

I looked up to see Naila Aunty placing a large tray of food on the table. On better days, I might have eaten all of it, but I think one French toast would be enough to sate my hunger.

"I am." I had no idea which 'him' I was talking about, but I knew she asked for my dad. "It's hard to just let go so abruptly. I didn't even get to say goodbye to him."

She gave a motherly squeeze to my shoulder which I leaned into. "You'll be okay. Try getting into studying again maybe?"

"I'll try, though I don't think it will work."

She nodded and left me alone, possibly to assemble the whole house again. I silently ate up my breakfast, looking at the clock that read ten only.

Grunting and pretending feeling like I was dying, I pushed my feet to move in the direction of the stairs. Thinking of where to go in this house, my strides became purposeful when I thought of the one place that would give me comfort now.

The brown door at the end of the hallway was shut close. It barely made a sound when I pushed the knob down and opened the door, revealing a sun-soaked room. My father had chosen the prettiest room in the house for his study, huh?

A large leather chair sat in front of the opposite wall, gleaming with sunlight pouring on it through the huge window behind it. Papers, books, files, folders— everything was scattered on the desk that paired with the chair. Oddly enough, my father's study was a mess even though he preferred tidiness most of the time.

But I wasn't here for that mess. I was here for the journal that sat on the bottommost level of the bookshelf, it's leather spine creased and old.

"Your mother loved wholly, whoever and whatever it was."

I remembered my father's words from when I was sixteen and he'd finally decided it was the right time to show me my mother's journal. Since then, it sat on his bookshelf so I could access it whenever I wanted.

Today was one of the days I needed to hear her advice. I was so confused.

With reluctant fingers, I pulled back the strap that held the journal close and opened the cover, tracing her name written on the first page in cursive. Such an aesthetic woman she was.

I didn't go through the pages, instead flipped straight to the last entry few entries. Each one written for me. Dad said she'd written those when she found out her time on earth would be cut short.

Ayat,

I wonder how you would fall in love. Maybe he'd be someone you find when studying, a colleague at work? Or we could get a little imaginative and think he'll be someone you meet in a bookstore or a coffee shop. Maybe even a flower shop (hopefully he wouldn't be getting flowers for his partner waiting for him at home then).

Or maybe you will get married first like I did. Then, you would slowly fall in love with the man you would call your husband. You wouldn't have to pursue him then, he would already be yours.

It's a little upsetting to me that I won't be hear to guide you through your life like I wished to do. But I hope you read these same words years later when you seek the words of your mother, who loves you most in this world even if she couldn't stay with you longer.

Now, if you are reading this, I wonder if you need comfort. Reassurance. Someone who is confident in you. You are only three now, princess, but I believe in you.

Whoever he might be, I would say only a few words to help you.

Fight, don't give up so easily. If it is love, chase it. The rest of the world be forgotten. Do what your heart asks you to do, the brain should know to shut up for a little while.

When its about love, there is no right or wrong.

Love,
Your mother.

With tears stinging my eyes, I closed the book and threw my head back against the leather chair, staring at the ceiling.

But, I knew what to do.

And I would live for myself no matter what the world said.