Prince from Paradise | ✔

XXIII. Insanity

Rabiya

The next morning, the newlyweds finished their Walima (wedding reception) with only the witnesses that were present the night before, a small ceremony that also had to be kept secret from the villagers.

Though it was short and heavy on their hearts, Rabiya knew that she would always remember the moment fondly as a time that her family was willing to sacrifice everything to protect her, to keep her at a distance from the plague of greed that infiltrated her childhood home.

Word came a few hours later that Rabiya's beloved cousin, a man who shared the same ferocity and loyalty as her brother, Shakeel was hospitalized. Her family was beaten and bruised, their home a pile of ashes, yet he still used his last might to stand against the terror, to fight against the crooked truth. 

From what Tahmid had told her, Shakeel argued with a few villagers that continued to defile and spit on her grandfather's property until they pushed him so far that he had to leave to save his life. However, their cruelty did not stop there. 

Shakeel was riding his bicycle to meet with Adar and Rabiya for their small ceremony, but he never came. Instead, the route he took was already ambushed from the start, and a few villagers and their sons grabbed him as he passed by, knocking him out with a metal rod.

Word of blood dripping into the soil and the disgruntled groans of a young man whispered through nearby villages and communities, and no one lifted a finger to help him. No one batted an eye out of fear for what would happen to them for interfering.

So her older cousin laid on the dirt road as people who he used to see as his classmates and friends beat him, merciless and detached, eyes full of a lust for fame, for recognition, for power. They continued to hurt him until his wounds reopened and his eyes welled with tears from the grisly act, the sheer lack of humanity shrieking in unstable wavelengths. 

Her family did not know until Miraj came to the ceremony panting, out of breath, and sorrow etching his features. He found him and quickly brought Shakeel to a hospital. 

Now, as Rabiya stood beside the cold, metal beds of the hospital, her chest constricted at the state her cousin was in. Sobbing was heard from her Aunt Zaakiya and the silent tears of her husband Farouk, a man of usual quiet, law-abiding behavior now visibly shaken by the crimes against his son. 

The rest of Rabiya's family was at a courthouse, trying to find a way to defuse the situation and demand justice with the exception of her parents. Rabiya's parents were back at her grandfather's estate, the only ones left to stand among the black dusts of ashes, of a shattered legacy inking its grief into the sorrow. 

Their estate was gone. 

And as the villagers continued to roar around them, they could only yell back with all the voice left in their throats, even when the sound came out raspy, their determination was their last attempt. 

A warm hand grasped hers, coarse thumb rubbing circles into her palm before he brought her hand to his lips, a small, gentle kiss touching her skin and causing a warmth to flood through her. Her gaze lifted to his, watching the warmth flood the dark, brown of his eyes, the comforting specks of a dusky dawn, an awakening of hope glistening through his kind, affectionate gaze. 

Though worries still laced her expression, his love, his touch managed to give her the strength she needed to find her voice. "Look at what she's done," croaked Rabiya, referring to her uncle's wife. Her eyes glanced at her unconscious cousin, his shallow breaths striking a pain in her chest and the heart monitor's tune buzzing in her ears. "They were going to kill Shakeel."

"Allah saved him," whispered Adar. 

She nodded. 

"Rabiya," sighed her husband, voice low so only she could hear. "Your uncle's wife must be having a delusion or some episode from grief. We can't let her get away with this."