THE TIMOROUS DUNYA✅

THIRTY

Assalamu alaikum!

I know guys. I'm really sorry for keeping you waiting for a very long time. I have seen all your comments telling me to update and how much you're liking The book. I'm one lucky person to have you guys as my readers❤ The thing is, I was terribly sick  and had a major writer's block. Trust me when I tell you I  wrote this chapter four times yet I'm still not happy with the outcome. Anyways, without further much ado, I present to you chapter THIRTY!

It's the last ten days of Ramadhan, I hope you have doubled your salats, dhikr and Qur'an recitations. May Allah accept all out ibadat and make us among the beneficiaries of this month. Ameen.

Oh , and vote and comment!

*****

The next morning, Maryam woke up feeling very refreshed. She didn't waste too much time by the window pondering. When she was inside the bathroom taking a bath, her thoughts were only about what she was going to wear. It was weird. She had never been one to care about what type of fabric or colour she has on. As long as it was comfortable, she is okay with it.

The bathroom was foggy when she came out. She applied a little lotion, then she sat down at the edge of the bed. It's neat state reminding her of her absence in it the previous night. After their little ice-cream party, Sufyan had suggested they watch a movie. Although Maryam had no idea what was happening or being said, she still sat down and enjoyed his company. She had no idea when she fell asleep, but when she woke up this morning, Sufyan had draped her petite figure with a blanket.

Today was different. It was brighter and warmer. Hence today, Maryam decided her hair needs all the brushing it can get. Grabbing her thick brown comb, she set to work. She divided the hair into segments and took turn in combing it. It was a hard task but she was very satisfied with the outcome.

It was time to choose a dress. Maryam found herself looking at the part of her wardrobe which she never bothered with. The part which contained all the fancy clothes. There was a pearl lacy straight gown. It has a golden belt at the waist. Maryam held it with her hands and observed it closely.

"Nop, too fancy." She put it back. She grabbed the yellow summer dress with floral imprints. It was cute but sleeveless. She put it back. The indigo dress was too revealing for her liking. She put it back.

Alas she settled with a white and black top with polka dots and a bishop sleeve. She paired it with a long draped charcoal skirt. It was okay. She loved the outfit.

It was still early, around seven in the morning. Maryam searched for the rectangular yellow card. She remembered crumbling it with her fist and dropping it carelessly into the bin. She searched there, hastily. But it was not there. She sighed, perharps this was God's way of telling not to do it. Maybe it isn't worth it, she thought. It sounds almost impossibe anyways. On second thought, it is impossible. As Maryam pushed herself to stand up, she caught the little card peeking from behind the dustbin. Well, perharps it's worth a shot.

Sufyan has moved into the room few steps away from her's. It was just a spare room before, a little larger than the guest room. It occupied dust and a few old appliances. Hajarah got it cleaned up and changed the furniture. Maryam knocked on his door, there was no answer. She salamed, still no answer. She pushed the handle slowly, half expecting the door to be locked but to her utmost surprise, it wasn't. She looked around the room, a wash of coffee brown and cream. It was messy. Maryam almost stumbled on a pair of shoe on her way. There were clothes on the bed, on the couch and on the floor. His bed was unmade, pieces of paper littered the floor. Maryam shook her head, has he ever head of the phrase cleanliness is next to godliness?

Maryam didn't have it in her to exit the room. She has to do something about it's current state. Admittedly, it's not proper to enter someone's room and start touching their stuff but it just doesn't sit well with her to leave it just like that. First, the pair of shoe took it's rightful place in the shoe rag located in the closet, close to it's soulmate. Then every other crumbled piece of papers followed suit, by entering into the dustbin. She tucked the layers of the bed securely by the sides, folded the duvet and run her hands through the sheets to give it a smooth feel.

She arranged the bulky books on his study, stuffed all the pens, markers and pencils in the cup. There were a few blank medium sized papers on the desk too. Maryam picked them up and placed them gently on the stack of books. But just as she did, she noticed the papers were not really blank. They were just turned over and the contents are not on her sight. She flipped them over without giving it much of a thought.

It was a beautiful drawing. The most beautiful one Maryam had ever seen. It displayed two hands, entwined. While one of the hands was a little bigger and veinier, the other was slender and smooth. It was well detailed such that it demanded a few minutes of silent appreciation from her. And any other viewer. Maryam had no idea Sufyan could draw like that. He had never mentioned it.

The second painting was of a girl. She stood infront of a window, her body clad in a hijab. The window overlooked a garden. A garden of winter cress, daylily and lavender.

"Miriam?" She quickly dropped the papers and spun around. Sufyan stood behind her, clad in a white towel, droplets of water slowly crept from his hair all the way to his waistline. His eyes settled on the papers she had just kept, he trooped to where they were and opened one of the drawers of his study table. He put them there.

"What are you doing here?" Sufyan asked with a nervous smile, his hand reaching out to scratch his head.

Maryam finally came back to her senses. "I'm really sorry for barging into your room. I knocked but there was no answer." She apologized shyly.

"It's okay. Do you need anything?" He brushed it off. Maryam nodded.

"Can I borrow your phone?" Sufyan handed it to her. Maryam realized that was what she should have asked. She needs to rephrase what she said. So instead, she said;

"I mean, can you call this number on your phone for me?" She showed the yellow card to him. Sufyan smiled seeing it was Mrs Sabeeha's card. He was glad their conversations yesterday has pushed her to finally move forward.

Instead of doing it for her, Sufyan told her how to while she did it herself. Maryam felt proud of herself when she placed the phone to her ears and could hear the ring sound. Sufyan gave her some privacy and went to wear his clothes.

Mrs Sabeeha picked up on the first ring. She was delighted to hear it was Maryam. They agreed to have the session at Hajarah's garden.

*****

A long silence surrounded them. Maryam kept chewing on her nails. Mrs Sabeeha had a writing pad and pen in her hands.

"Take all the time you need." She had said to Maryam ten minutes ago. Maryam doesn't think the whole time in the world can prepare her to tell that story. The story of her life. So she braced herself and asked;

"Where should I start from?"

"Start wherever you like."

Wherever she likes, Maryam repeated in her mind. At that moment, she realized she didn't want to talk about how her stepmother been abusing her, nor did she want to talk about being forced into a loveless marriage. She didn't want to talk about being sold off, or taken away, nor did she want to talk about being introduced into a dirty business. She didn't want to talk about being locked up in a cell, starved and beaten, nor did she want to talk taking away a life.

But what Maryam did want to talk about, was Zeenah. The little angel she had met on the way. The one that was there for her, always ready to comfort her and in the end, saved her.

"I left Zeenah." Maryam finally got her voice. Her own words made her realize the immensity of what she has done.

A whimper escaped her lips. "I'm a terrible friend." And she kept crying.