In My Sister's Shadow-Book II

16. Home is Where Our Story Begins

I visited Salma's flat on many occasions. We've held a 'Friends' binge night baking spicy chicken tikka pasties, and indulged in hot chocolate and marshmallows, halal ones!  However, the magnificence of her flat came to light when I envisaged sharing the space with Zayn. This was our haven.
Buzzing with excitement I made my way admiring the light pastel shades evoking feeling of cleanliness and freshness. Salma's flat consisted of a large lounge dining area and a long narrow kitchen which led to the bathroom. Two fully furnished double bedrooms ran off the hallway. One room with twin single bed and the other room with a large king size bed. The marshmallow like cream thick sofas with cushions were inviting and warm. Salma dressed the dining table with fresh lilies and ivory orchids. Oil canvas paintings  hung on the wall reflected the purity and innocence of the white cava lilies. A wooden ivory frame carved with 'home is where your story begins' sang the ode scribed in my heart. Why didn't I notice the little things before?

Our story began here, in this house. I'd accepted Zayn, love oozing out of my heart, joyous to start our life together. This was different than Walsall when I married him out of obligation. I didn't love him. I didn't know him. Now, he was my world. I couldn't bear to imagine a life without him.

With Zayn carrying the black refuse bags heaving with our clothes, the kids raced inside the flat and ran into every room. The flat was their large playground. 
"The front door is a bit stiff." Salma stopped Zayn by the front door as he carried the suitcase inside. She demonstrated to him how to turn the stiff key in the lock.
"The builder I paid was useless." She closed the door and it wedged between the doorframe. With a firm push she slammed it shut. Zayn ran his hands over his beard, probably thinking of ideas of how to fix the expanded door. The bathroom door lock would jam. It was a simple lock which required a push into the socket, but it was cold and damp and wouldn't budge. The flat wasn't perfect by Salma's standards, but it was perfect for me after the nightmare flat above the restaurant. No more loud voices, laughter and noises from downstairs. No more banging of pots and pans. And no more perverted landlords appearing at midnight. This place was safe that I called it home.

Whilst the kids were excited in the bedroom beliving it was a sleepover, Salma pointed out the leaky U bend under the kitchen sink which had a bucket under it to catch the dripping water. Zayn kneeled assessing the damage. 
"I'm sorry about these issues." Salma turned to me. "I feel bad for taking the full rent. Why don't I give you take half? After all I would be spending it on a handyman." Salma apologised. 
Zayn wouldn't hear of it. Once he'd given the money, there was no turning back. 
"I can't find a decent plumber. They all charge the earth."
Salma promised to order a bunk bed for the twins. 
"No it's fine. Zara sleeps in my bed." I replied. 
Salma argued. "I won't hear of it. I'll have it all sorted for you by the end of the week."

With Zayn rumbling in the back of his van for spanner to fix the U bend, I stood at the door with Salma thanking her for her help. 
"If you didn't speak up, I don't know what we would have done." 
It was a long journey since we left Walsall. That was the last place I remember where I called home and today with the key in our hands, the rent paid, this was the second place I felt like home. Standing at the door, I embraced Salma and thanked her for saving the evening.
"Our dads are stubborn, I know what they're like." She said. 
Zayn appeared from the van with a spanner in his right hand. 
"You won't have any issues. I'll sort it." He scratched under his chin through his thick beard. He thanked Salma and made his way into the flat. 
"I bought new furnishings when I moved in. But when I returned home with my in-laws I dreaded renting the house. Tenants thrash the place. Make yourself at home." Salma made her way towards her car. 
"It's truly a lovely place." I gazed at the front door in awe. "Thank you."

When Salma left, it dawned on me that we were a family again. This was it; my second chance. I had to do this right. Zayn was home. We were fragile, our relationship teetering on the edge of destruction. The police were on his back. I had to protect Zayn, to stop Suhel from pressing charges and gain the cctv footage from Kash. That was tomorrow. Tonight, I had to re-connect with Zayn, slowly allowing him trust me and re-build our family.