His Revenge

➺Chapter Twenty-Six

➺ Twenty-Six

           
Zaeem glanced at the empty chair and released a small sigh. His grip tightening on the teacup in his hand.

"Zaeem, darling?" Mahra looked at him with concern.

He shook his head. "It's nothing, Mamma."

"She's shutting herself up again. You have to help her, Zaeem. She was barely back to her old self before this happened and . . . she's losing it once more."

A sorrowful smile spread on Zaeem's face. "Old self? Aaida will never be who she once was. We've effectively ensured that. All of us. Mustafa, Zachary, Azrael, Lord Usman . . . me."

Mahra arched an eyebrow in surprise. "You still blame yourself?"

"How can I not? I was the gateway to her personal hell. And now we're here and I can't offer her the comfort she needs. No matter what I do, she isn't the Aaida Ibrahim who I married. She'll never be that Aaida again." With a heavy heart, he stood up from his chair. "I have to meet with Liam regarding the current situation. Please take care of Aaida while I'm gone. I'll be back as soon as possible."

Mahra nodded and watched him walk out. Her heart clenched in her chest. When would the pain fade? When would their wounds heal? When would their family smile again?

She feared she would never know the answer to her questions. She feared that the ominous cloud of darkness would never lift from their household.

As Zaeem left the house, he was contemplating the same thing. This was why he wanted to get rid of Mustafa and Lord Usman. He was tired of the heartache Aaida had to face. It wasn't fair. She didn't deserve any of it.

"Oh my child, who deluded you into thinking the world is fair?"

He remembered his mother's words. He remembered when he was a child, begging his mother to give him a proper answer.

"Why are we leaving? Mamma, why isn't Father coming?"

"Zaeem, my love, we have to go now. This isn't our house anymore."

He had stamped his feet. Whined. Like any small child who'd had his favorite toy snatched away. "Why? This. Is. My. House!"

"No, darling-"

"It's not fair!" He had burst out.

"Oh my child, who deluded you into thinking the world is fair?"

But hadn't his life turned out for the better? Hadn't he had the victory? His father had died a miserable old man with a leech of a wife beside him and he had inherited every last coin from him.

Where was Aaida's victory?

"Zaeem?"

Zaeem snapped out of his thoughts. Liam stood in front of him, peering at him curiously. "Everything all right, mate?" His best friend asked.

"No." He wouldn't lie to Liam.

"What's going on?"

Zaeem sat down on his chair and raked a hand through his hair. "My family is falling apart. Aaida has locked herself into her bedroom and Mamma isn't very encouraging. To top it all, I have a child. A child I have never held, never seen . . . thought to be dead."

"You're being too harsh on yourself," Liam sighed and pressed a hand to Zaeem's shoulder. "Aaida has always coped with grief in solitude. She doesn't like having company when she's dealing with her own pain. We all know that. She's been that way since she was small and her mother would chide her during the few parties she'd attended. I remember, a long time ago, I found her behind the curtains. Completely still. But I remember the sadness in her eyes. Having a mother like Aliya and a brother like Aaus, she learned to suppress her sorrow from an early stage."