Him & His Muslimah

44

Zaib/Zoya

Darkness had engulfed the sky when Zoya sat on the edge of the bathtub, brushing her teeth while simultaneously, ruminating over Zain's words. The distaste on his face as he yelled acrimoniously flashed back into her memory and she heaved a sigh.

To tell Zaib or not, was the actual concern.

Her husband deserved to know, especially knowing the fact that he loved and cared deeply for his family, but she felt conflicted, pondering upon the consequences. Zain was an adult, perfectly capable of his own decisions and tattling to Zaib might cause irreversible problems for the family and even distance Zain from everyone. It might shatter, not only his parents but also Zain, himself, who requires support and understanding.

"Zoya?"

She jolted her out of her muddleheaded thoughts and pushed herself off, towards the sink to wash off her mouth. She practised a smile against the mirror and tugged the door open, her eyes landing upon Zaib who hovered over the door, lethargically rubbing his eyes.

The superficial smile faltered and the tension drifted away on its own like a dandelion blooming into the gust of wind. Her eyes resonated the warmth she felt for him without the struggle.

"Are you okay? You were in there for a while," he muttered, and then pulled her close before, carrying her up into his arms. She gasped at his celerity and then eased into his embrace.

"You seemed off by the end of the day. Did someone say something?" He asked, laying her down on the bed and hopping on beside her. His gaze traced hers, searching for answers. She sighed and finally decided to formally set aside Zain's grotesque words and focus on her relationship with the man she loved.

"I'm okay," she attempted to pacify his curiosity but his gaze only narrowed further. He sighed in dismay, his eyes glowering as he looked back at her unsatisfied.

"Can you be honest?" He interrogated, his body now completely alert, the adrenaline chasing away his exhaustion. She stared blankly at him.

She wanted to tell him eventually. She wanted to speak to Zain one last time before pulling Zaib into this. Informing him would only be the last resort. Zoya poked at his chest. "You never said a word about my cooking!"

Initially, she was upset about his inability to complement her food, so technically she wasn't lying to him. Sure, she was twisting the reality. Zaib stared back dumbfounded, at a loss of words. "What?"

"Everyone showed admiration for the food. You just sat there eating like a cow!" She shrieked, throwing a jab at his chest as she huffed, displeased.

The tension diminished from his frame as he collapsed back on to the bed, laughter echoing within the empty house. She sulked, growling at his historical reaction. He reached out to grab her after slowly calming down but she edged away towards the other side, genuinely frustrated. She rolled to the end of the bed, almost escaping.

He pounced forward as he gained a hold of her waist and pulled her back. He finally dragged her towards him and wrapped her into his arms.

"I didn't know you were so observant," he remarked, further aggravating her. She glared daggers at him. "Everyone was already giving you such amazing feedback so I assumed I didn't have to say something," he added, resting his head on her shoulder as he held her tighter, wanting her sulky frown to disappear.

"You're different," she mumbled, frowning at him. Zaib cursed himself in the head and then held her hand and gently kissed her palm.

"My wife is better than all those master chef cooks," he boasted, his gaze flooding with sweet affection for her. She didn't intend on forgiving him but his comment made a smile appear, and instantly she despised herself for melting easily.