Irrevocably

43 | After-Effects

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Arsalan

There was not a sound in the room. I sat at my desk chair, staring silently at Mama while she sat at the edge of my bed. I then looked up at Papa who stood leaning against the wall by the window, his arms crossed over his chest. Both me and my father were waiting for Mama to say something, but she had been sitting like this for at least five whole minutes now.

I got up and walked up to her, crouching down on the ground in front of her. I grabbed her hands and frowned when I realised how cold they were. "Mama, I'm so sorry." 

She slowly pulled her hands out of my grip, turning her head away.

I looked helplessly at Papa. He nodded at me, silently telling me to remain patient. I turned back to my mother. "I have made a grave mistake. I have sinned. But I have promised Allah that I will not make such a mistake again. And Allah forgives the repentant, right? I want your forgiveness too, Mama." 

She looked like she was having difficulty composing herself.

A secret part of me, hidden within the darkest crevices of my mind, felt a thrill as I remembered the brief brush of my lips against Tahira's. But this was the side of me that was never to see the light of the day; that was never to be introduced to anyone else. It was a side that I had to bury deep. It was a sinful pleasure that I would never experience again.

"Anya." Papa finally spoke up. "He feels guilty. We can guide him, but if he has apologised to Allah, we can leave the matter of forgiveness and repentance between him and Allah. You know Arsal better than anyone else..."

"That's what hurts the most, Rehan! I thought I knew him, but..."

"Anya, honey, you do know him." He came and sat down beside her. "But Arsal is human too. He made a mistake and..."

"A mistake? Oh, not only did he make a mistake, but his act created such a huge scene on our daughter's wedding!" 

"Are you worried more about what he did, or about what people would think?" My father remained calm as he spoke to her, studying her face intently.

She looked at him, bewildered. "What do you think, Rehan? My child strays off the right path, so of course that's what I care about more! But he selfishly showed no regard for his sister, for us, for anyone! And that's also a fact."

I felt guilt stab at my heart again.

"You are dragging this on too much now, Anya. Enough." He sounded irritated now.

"Would you be this calm if one of our daughters had done this? God forbid." She argued.

"Mama, look you guys don't argue. Please. I'm apologising here, and I will do whatever I can to make it up to you." I whispered.

"Answer me, Rehan." Mama ignored me. "If Hoor or Haya had done this, would you be this calm? Or is this a 'boys will be boys' mentality?" 

"You're just contradicting yourself now, Anabia. Every single moment since we became parents, you have been telling me that I have been too lenient with the girls. And now suddenly, you're accusing me of having that mentality?" He stood up. "Guide the kid. Don't push him away."

"He's not a kid. He's already misguided." Mama also stood up and strode out of the room. 

My father looked like he was seriously struggling to control his temper. And that was saying a lot; that man was the most patient person I knew.