Trust Me (An Islamic Love Story)

Chapter 28

"Abeer, come on, let's forget our past and start over again," she whines in mockery.

"Don't act as if I don't know what you are up to," I warn, gripping the mobile tightly. "I know everything about you and Azar."

"I see," she says slowly, her tone completely changing. "I want you to come tomorrow and meet me in my office. I will message you the address."

"I don't want to work with my husband's lover," I say before I can stop myself. Control your anger, Abeer. Allah. Remember Him.

"You are jealous already," she laughs at my response. "That is very interesting, you know. I've known Azar for so many years, dear, but look at me; I am talking so calmly, like a civilized woman."

"Indeed, Mishal, I should learn from you," I say in a sweet voice, almost sounding like her. "In fact, who can be more civilized and respectful than a woman who is approached and loved when needed and turned away from when bored?" It feels good saying this to her. "I can't be jealous of a status as a wife can never stoop low to yours."

"Wow, Abeer, you blew my mind," she taunts me as if she is in awe. "I must say you have drastically improved as a liar. I know you only have a label of a wife, and to be honest, I was very surprised when Azar married you. But then he told me everything that he feels towards you: hatred, repulse, and disgust. I want his love only, and with that, I am content. I don't need to show off my love to the world and to society. I don't care what people think of me. I only care what my Azu thinks of me."

I am boiling, shaking in anger. If Azar loves Mishal so much and Mishal loves him so much, why am I even in the picture? Why am I here? Why didn't he marry her? What do they want? Allah. Help me.

"Anyways, we are so off topic here," she dismisses. "I called you because I want to interview you for the job." I am about to say no again, but she continues, "Before you refuse, give me a chance to discuss some conditions with you."

"I don't want to," I deny nevertheless.

"Abeer, I insist you come," she repeats. "If you don't want to work for me, I really can't force you, can I? Just be there at nine in the morning. If you still don't want to work for me after tomorrow, then I won't ask you again."

"Okay."

She cuts the line. What harm can it do to just go face to face and reject? And why does she even want to give the job to me?

I take out a small copy of the Quran when Azar enters the room. He doesn't look at me and sits on his side of the bed, his back facing me. I get up because I don't feel comfortable reading Quran in front of him and am about to go when he stops me. "Abeer?"

I turn to look at him. He looks very frustrated and tired, but I have no whatsoever sympathy for him. I hate him for marrying me and not Mishal. "Yes?"

"What did you two talk about?" He inquires, looking up at me expectantly.

"Why don't you ask her?" I ask instead. "Why me?"

"Just answer me," he snaps.

"I'm going for the job interview tomorrow and—" He doesn't let me complete.

"What?" He objects. "No! You are not. Are you out of your mind?"

"Why does it matter to you? It's my wish," I shrug. "And besides—"

He gets up and declares, "You aren't going to work for Mishal. Do what I told you to do. Keep my parents happy. That's your job. You don't need to do anything else."

"Azar, I don't want to rely on you, not even in finance. I want to pay for myself—" I start to argue, but Azar cuts in.

"You don't have to worry about money, Abeer," he waves it off. "That's my responsibility."