What Not To Do When You're In Love

04 | Started

04 | Started

I had hated the disorder of all those messy wedding things, but this, undeniably, was chaos on a whole revitalised level.

Small children continuously ran up and down the house, trampling my very organised room, bed, clothes, my limbs. Oh, and I had no clue who they belonged to; I just knew that they weren't going to leave until after lunch.

Aunty Rahima, as expected, had arrived sometime before lunch with her luggage, her marriage-eligible son Hashim, and her elder son Fahim with his pregnant wife Ruqya, to stay with us for a week. While meeting Hashim, (who was my age), had been a fun experience because of his innocent humour and genuine interest in the new member of his family that I was, meeting Ruqya Bhabi had torn my heart apart.

She was just three years older than I was, but she looked like she was in her thirties. I kept wondering what happened to her that aged her the way that she had. I wondered if I should ask Hasan, if he even had any idea.

After lunch, though, when my curiosity and concern had gotten the best of me, I ended up asking Hafsa about her. She was in my room for something, and Hasan luckily wasn't.

Hafsa told me that Ruqya had lost a stillborn last year, and the grief had weighed her down and forced her lively, childlike personality to turn into a mature and serious one. And on top of that, her mother in law had dragged her along to this trip overseas, disregarding completely the doctor's precautionary advice to not take the risk of international travel in this pregnancy.

Hafsa told me all this with a sad expression, told me how cheerful and fun Ruqya Bhabi was when she had initially joined the family, and how now she barely smiled unless the situation absolutely demanded the courtesy. But Hafsa spoke to her and her mother in a very neutral manner, which disturbed me for some reason. Her coming here wasn't right, obviously, so why wouldn't anybody acknowledge it?

Ruqya was now in my eyes a great person; an admirable woman of strength, and of immense faith. She trusted in Allah for the health of her baby. Although her tired, weary eyes gave a lot away, I could bet you'd never guess she was anything but totally content with what she had when she talked to you.

I revered that trick of hers since I'd come to perceive that I myself had a lot of trouble in the expression of fake emotions.

I couldn't help but imagine, after knowing what kind of life she led, how amazingly perfect an actor Ruqya Bhabi could've been. She'd rock at making it look like she was somebody that she actually wasn't, would she not? Because was she not already doing that?

Long after Hafsa had left with sad eyes, I remained in deep thought, and in a partial daydream of Ruqya Bhabi as a gorgeous, skilful actress. I barely registered it when Hasan entered the room.

The air around him smelled like weird spices and lavenders. And something else too, perhaps. I didn't particularly like it. His cousins and friends that flooded the entire house cried out teasing phrases as he entered and locked the door, laughing shyly. I didn't like that either.

After he stopped laughing and properly acknowledged me, he seemed to remember something.

"Did you enjoy dinner with Rahima Khala today, Adinah? Isn't she cool?!"

"Yeah, she really is very cool," I said, thinking about the baby Ruqya had already lost, and the one she just as likely might, given the risk that this 'cool' Khala of my dear husband put her in for Allah knew what reason.