Trust Me (An Islamic Love Story)

Chapter 26

I have decided to call Mrs. Noor Mama and Mr. Hussain Baba, as that is what Azar calls them. It would be even convincing to them that Azar and I are happy together.

"Assalamualikum Abeer," Mama says, recognizing me by my veil.

"Walaikumusalam," I reply.

"Where is Azar?" She asks me as we enter, and I try my best to not look panicked.

"He had some important work, so he left. In Sha Allah will be back soon," I say with a smile, hoping it is convincing. It hurts to lie for him.

"What? He left? Just wait till he returns. I'll make him do sit-ups holding his ears," Mama exclaims, and Baba laughs.

"My poor boy; he has no idea what mistake he made," Baba insinuates with affection in his eyes, and my heart sinks.

They don't know what Azar has done and is doing. They have no idea. How hurt will they feel when they realize what their son is like?

"Abeer, you know, I left for office the next day of my wedding, and Noor didn't talk to me for one whole day," Baba recounts, with a mischievous look in his eyes. "Then, after a few days, she gifted me a book called Don'ts for Husbands. I guess I have to gift both of my sons these books too."

"It's okay, really. It was urgent," I find myself saying. I hate it. Why? Why am I defending the jerk?

"Wow! That's good, I was so mad at Hussain. You are much more mature than me," Mama observes, and heat rises to my cheeks. I am not very good at taking compliments.

Maliha comes and hugs Mama and greets both of them. Ahmed follows them with a small, goofy smile on his face which he is trying his best to control. He greets them too, and I feel a little uncomfortable as if I am the odd one out.

"Maliha and I will set the table," I offer, taking the shopping bags from Mama's and Baba's hands.

"Where is Azar?" Maliha inquires while we both are setting the table.

"He had some urgent work, so he left," I reply without looking at her.

"Are you happy?"

I collect myself before I look at her, trying to look in love as I reply, "Alhamdulillah, yes." The guilt and the pain are overwhelming. My soul is restless and desperate. It's screaming inside, to tell the truth, but what can I do?

After we set the table and settle down, everyone falls suddenly silent, and Mom calls Azar. He doesn't pick up. "I think we should start eating," Ahmed suggests. "Azar won't mind."

Mama sighs. "What should I do about him? Sorry, Abeer."

"No, no, it's completely fine," I protest politely. "Please don't say sorry. You all start eating, I'll be right back."

I go to the room, thinking I should call Azar and try switching on my mobile. That's when I hear a cry of pain coming right from the washroom. The dread arises in my chest, but before my mind can spiral, I dash into the washroom.

However, the sight of what I see worsens my panic. "Oh my God, Azar! You..." There is a pool of blood, and Azar, sitting on the floor in it. I blink, my vision blurs as I try to process, try to understand the overwhelming emotions rushing through me, but my heart seems to only rise and never fall.

He hurt Azar. He got to him. They got to him. They hurt him. I let this happen. I hurt him. The thoughts intrude and make way louder than any other.

Amidst the world coming in and out of existence, I locate the blood running down Azar's elbow, and register quite late that he was trying to hide it.