From Aliya to Hafiz

Thirteen.

Aliya.

Around five in the evening, Auntie and Mom came back. The moment she stepped in and saw her husband, she stopped in surprise before turning guarded.

"If you're here to oppose me, leave. I don't have time to entertain you," she coldly said and then hauled the large nylon bags towards the stairs.

I quietly approached and eased her of the weight, settling them by the staircase and then made myself scarce by entering the kitchen and drawing the partition closed.

Leaning against the wooden partition, I sighed. "I'm drained."

A knock came from outside before the wooden structure behind me shifted in place. I looked sideways to Mom who entered and drew the partition closed afterwards.

"Welcome back."

"Have you made dinner?" She took off her hijab, leaving her in a pink floral material and scarf.

"No," I looked away.

"Why?" I could feel her gaze on me.

"Just because," I put some distance between us. "Because I don't feel like it."

"Aliya," she asserted.

"Mother."

"What is wrong with you?"

Gritting my teeth, I repeatedly recited the ayyah in surah Isra to calm myself. We were not allowed to utter even an 'uff' at them, we should speak to them with a gracious word.

'Qawlan kareemaa.'

'Qawlan kareemaa, Aliya.'

After a moment, I met her stern gaze and gave a weak smile. "I'm getting married this week, Mother. It may be tomorrow or the day after. Me; the person that fears men, me, the girl that can't speak to men without stuttering. I am going to be under the control of a man, I am his to do with as he pleases. And I can't even refuse because..." I took a deep breath.

Because you and Auntie are like a noose around my neck.

"So please, don't ask me what is wrong with me," I conceded before moving to leave the kitchen.

"Aliya I..."

I stopped, hope blossoming in my chest.

"...I'm sorry..."

Clenching my fist, I walked out of the kitchen. Auntie and her husband were sitting at the dining table, which was a few feet away from the stairs. I passed by them, not glancing at them for fear of them announcing the wedding date.

I peeked when I felt a gaze on me and I met Auntie's husband's eyes, which looked chagrined and apologetic. Not in the mood to entertain him, I sped up the stairs, grateful they didn't call after me.

When I reached my room, the door opposite it opened and my dear soulmate stepped out. When our eyes met, something seemed to flash before a bright smile took over his, shocking me into taking several steps back.

"What is wrong with your face?" I blurted.

For a second, his smile looked a little strained before turning brighter. "Nothing, why do you ask?"

Feeling off balance, I chose to ignore him and entered my room. Wondering whether that man was possessed, I entered the bathroom for a hot shower. The amount of things that couldn't be soothed with a hot shower is few, at this point, it was just therapy for me.

I stepped out of the shower wrapped in a purple towel only to screech to a halt when I saw Hafiz...

...lounging comfortably...

...on the edge...

...of my...

...bed...!!!

Shocked, I stumbled back into the bathroom and slammed the door shut before leaning against it. Hands settling on my wildly beating heart, I muttered 'SubhanaAllah' over and over again. When I calmed down enough to stop trembling, I stood up straight and headed for the door adjoining the bathroom to the walk-in closet.

Dressing in a blue maxi skirt and a white hoodie with a black scarf, I stalked out of the room and towards Hafiz who was still comfortably resting on my bed!

It was the audacity for me!

"What are you doing in my room!? Are you in your senses at all!?" I stopped in front of him, arms folded confrontationally.

"What? Can't I come to see my...future wife's room? You're definitely going to miss home so I was taking a look to have the one back in the States remodelled after it," he smiled gently.

Goosebumps rising along my neck, I stepped back. His current warm smile and his expression filled with malice, hatred and disgust were poles apart; it was alarming. "Say..." I hesitated.

"Go on," he nodded encouragingly.

"You...you wouldn't happen to have been hit on the head since the last time I saw you, right? Like, by a donkey or a club...right?" I stepped back again.

His smile fell and anger flared up in his eyes. But to my surprise, he quickly squashed it and laughed awkwardly. "No, not really. I was quite rude huh?"

"Rude? You said, and I quote verbatim; 'you can't bear to marry a monkey of a black man and live like a breeding slave right,' weren't you the one who said that?" I arched my brows.

He awkwardly scratched his neck. "I went a bit far."

"A bit?" I snorted, making my way to my living area and taking a seat on the couch. It was almost funny, the way he downplayed everything.

"What do you want Hafiz."

"About earlier...sorry...I was angry and lashed out at you," he professed, chagrined.

"Lashing out? Lucky you," I mumbled. "Who can I lash out at?"

"I didn't quite catch that."

"Forget it, leave my room. I didn't take anything you said to heart, although I almost cut off your filthy tongue," I smiled sweetly, falsely.

He chuckled.

"That's all, you can leave."

It took him a moment to stand up. He stared at me from across the room and said, "I know I was forced into this but I hope you'll let me take care of you."

Says the person who claimed I loved luxury enough to degrade myself, imagine.

You couldn't convince me to shake off his earlier actions even if you roasted me inside a kettle.

When I said nothing, he added. "Then have a nice day."

He opened the door and right before he left, I called him. "Don't ever enter my room without permission again. I know you think Islam is below you but being mannerless is not bound by religion."

He froze and for a second, I thought he was going to lash out again.

"Okay..." he said before leaving the room.

I took the remote from the centre table by the couch and switched on Netflix, deciding to go to my comfort shows.

Deciding on 'My Demon,' I dimmed the lights and settled comfortably on the couch. Seeing as there was no escape from this whole situation, I would just take it as a form of test from Allah.

And the one existence that would never harm me was Him.

Recalling my husband-to-be, I shivered. It was either that man was possessed or bipolar.

"Was Hafiz the butt really kicked by a donkey in the head? Why the sudden change of heart? Whew, creepy..."