T h i r t y  F o u r
This one is for fragmentsofmirages
:)

"She believed in me when people rejected me."

-The Prophet ﷺ speaking about his wife Khadeeja-

☆

Mashal

There was no use calling back on that number. It was restricted and had no caller ID.

My usual 'Mashal' intellect wanted me to be happy and start thinking that it was Zeyara who called me because it was Siri's voice who had answered me previously as well when I was at Ibrahim's house and tried calling Zeyara.

On the other hand, my smart self, being the daughter of Naeem Ansar and the wife of Zeyara, told me to stay prepared for an unexpected situation.

I was even debating whether I should go or not. It might turn up to be one of dad's enemies or terrorists trying to kidnap me for some reason.

Staring at the boring brown door for the past twenty minutes, I was thinking of all this.
The nurse had taken Minahil in the room to take her blood for some tests.

I heaved an aggravated sigh and screwed my eye lids close.

'Do it!' Shafin's scream hollored in my mind.
I was back at the same place, the same valley in Syria. All those people who are dead were still alive in front of me. The ones who were the witness to my wedding and the ones who weren't.

My eyes shot open and my breathing hitched in fright. These flashbacks were the death of me. I pulled my left sleeve up to reveal my bare skin. The needle mark was still there.
I remember it had taken me less than half a minute to take out that blood.

Whereas Minahil had been gone for twenty minutes and still not returned. I was getting impatient waiting for her to return. All I wanted was to go home and investigate.
To figure out who called me and whether I should go or not.

Thankfully the door opened and out she stepped with the same gloom on her face that she had been carrying since I first saw her in the street.

I instinctively stood up when I saw her. "How did it go?"

"She asked me if it was a police case." Minahil replied dully before wiping a tear off with her sleeve. "I had to convince her that it wasn't."

"Minahil" I walked over to her and placed my hand on her shoulder reassuringly, "I really think you should let them know. Otherwise he can do this to other girls as well."

"No! Mashal you have to promise you won't tell anyone."

"I won't."

"Promise me!" She pleaded.

Even though I hated to do that but just for her I nodded, "Promise."

"So....are you or are you not?" I asked as we walked out of the clinic to the bus stop.

Minahil swung her head over to face me and I immediately regretted asking that question. She looked depressed and devoid of hope. "They'll post the reports home."

"Okay." I mumbled. "It will be alright in sha Allah."

It was kind of a relief for me to know that they had not given the result yet. I can be at peace...at least in this regard.

Minahil didn't even whisper the whole time, my brain on the other hand, didn't stop screaming.

If all my crazy, jumbled, explosive thoughts had been audible to people, they would've either killed themselves or me.
The fact that people can't hear our thoughts is a blessing in itself.

But then again, I wish some selective people could hear our thoughts. When words become too heavy to utter, I wish we had people who could hear our un-said words.
If we had that choice, I would choose Zeyara as the person allowed to hear my thoughts.

He would be able to understand how much I miss him right now.

"You're thinking of him right?" Minahil's voice brought me back to the present world.

Confused by her question, I glanced at her with my brow raised.

"Your husband....you're thinking of him?" She explained her brief question.

Whoa. I think Minahil can hear my thoughts.
"Why do you think that?" I asked, stunned.

"You were smiling duh." She shrugged, "I've never seen you smile like that before."

I was smiling? I didn't even know I was. My heart flickers every time I think of him so it's completely possible.
Everytime my thoughts wander, they always find their way back to Zeyara.

I heard Minahil chuckle lowly. It wasn't a happy chuckle, it was a sarcastic one. "I thought he would start liking me. I was pretty, boys would die for me and you- he never even saw your face. Then how? I just don't get it. How did he marry you when he didn't even know what you looked like?"

I shook my head and sighed. "That's what you are getting wrong sister. Being pretty doesn't mean you'll get loved. In fact love has nothing to do with beauty. If it did, then why would Allah love us humans? We're dirty, ugly creatures who disobey him. Why would he love us so much? Why won't he rather love the pure angels or the hoor ul ayn of jannah?"

She parted her lips to speak but then closed them again before looking away from me.

That's what she has been doing since the incident. She just doesn't talk which is completely opposite to her nature. She was the kind of person who could be compared to fireworks when she chattered but right now, it seemed as if someone threw water on her sparks.

The bus paused at our stop and we stepped out in silence. We were walking in the street over to Zeyara's house when Minahil spoke again.

"I think I should go back to my parents now."

My eyes smiled at her words. They finally carried hope.
I stopped and looked at her, "That's really good! You can't just end your life by one incident."

"No. It's not that. It's that they are the only two people left who love me. I can't lose them too."

I side hugged her in an air of melancholy and watched as she walked over to the other side of the street to her house in the dim red evening sun.

On cue, I also walked into Zeyara's house which I have learned to call 'mine'.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Uncle Suleiman and Marwa sitting in front of the telly, probably re- watching Finding Nemo.
I wanted to go over and join them but I was scared Uncle might ask me about Zeyara again so I ditched them and walked up to my room on tip toes.

I had a lot of research to do.

After praying maghrib and changing into my comfortable pyjamas, I made sure that the room was locked and then pressed the headboard.
This secret base had not remained a secret for me at all. I wasn't surprised of the way the room changed completely in a matter of seconds.

I walked over to the screen and entered the password. There was nothing new in it. Just the same video I had seen previously. Whenever a new video comes, the previous one gets deleted automatically.

After spending ten minutes on the screen trying to find something useful, I gave up and turned it off.

I walked over to the digital map and tried searching for some clue but it had nothing. It didn't even work anymore. I mean, it kept on pointing at the house where I was in, in Zeyara's house.

"I would never be able to find something." I grumbled and walked over to the area with the blinking lights and meters. The blinking lights were actually buttons, each with a different label on them.

The green light had a label next to it which read, 'coffee'

Coffee?
It must be a secret code for something. I'm not that dumb that I would start thinking it's really coffee.

I pressed the button in curiosity.
Immediately the thing which I had assumed to be a meter, rotated and something started rising out of it.
Once it was completely out, my jaw dropped to the floor as I realised it was truly a mug of hot steaming coffee.

Seriously Zeyara?
I chuckled before grabbing the white mug and taking a tiny sip to make sure it was coffee, which it was.

Now my eagerness to press the other buttons had increased a thousand folds. I put the coffee aside and pressed the yellow button which had the label, 'When you feel like quitting.'

I waited for a few seconds but nothing happened so I shrugged and was about to move on when the screen that I had turned off, switched on automatically.

"Reasons for not quitting." A robotic voice spoke before various slides started playing on the screen.
First came the picture of Zeyara's parents, the same one I had seen in Uncle Suleiman's room with a subscript, 'Because of your parents.'

Then came the next slide,
It was a plain white background with the Quranic verse, "Do not lose hope, nor be sad" written in golden.

I smiled as the slides came and passed. I could imagine Zeyara all fed up and tired, wanting to live a normal life when he would press this button to get inspiration and remind himself of why his work is important.

There were a few pictures of Marwa, then a recent picture of Uncle Suleiman. Then came the famous picture of a Palestinian kid standing in front of the Israeli army with his hands on his hips and confidence on his face.
The last picture was of a girl wearing a blue scarf on a white dress. She was smiling and I gasped at her beauty even though she was wearing a hijab. I was trying to guess who she was when my eyes fell on the subscript, 'Zara.'

The slideshow ended, leaving me scared and frustrated by 'Zara'.
Marwa said earlier that Zeyara used to meet that girl secretly, even though his father disallowed him.
I shook the thoughts off my mind. She's his cousin Mashal, trust Zeyara.

To take my mind off that, I quickly pressed the next and the last button, the red one.
The label said, 'For emergency' and I had absolutely no idea what it could be.

To my surprise, the counter in front of me with the buttons flipped over. It seemed to be some kind of hidden drawer as it slid open to reveal guns.

Yes, guns.
I swallowed hard as my eyes took in the image of those deadly weapons. They had their names labelled below them; K10, kHr, FN etc etc. But for me, I would just identify them as being long, short, thick, thin all types of guns.

I took a step back, scared of them. What if I ended up doing something wrong and shooting myself?

I was just about to press the button again to take them out of my sight when I reconsidered it.

Come on Mashal, you can do it.
Before thinking more about that, I grabbed the smallest gun before I could change my mind.

《--°--•••--°--》

8:57 pm.

According to my phone, I still had three minutes before the person, whoever he was, showed up.

I was hiding in the dark behind the tree, it's rough bark pressing against my skin as I peeped at the place where I was told to come.

I had my fingers wrapped around the cold metal of the gun. I had chosen the lightest one, it looked like a toy gun and I regretted choosing it. What if someone bad turns up and this gun ends up shooting water?

After I found coffee in Zeyara's base, having a water gun didn't seem impossible.

I heard the cracking of the dry leaves on the ground under someone's feet and immediately pointed my gun out in front of me in case it wasn't Zeyara.

My heart however, started beating faster as my mind prayed;

Please be Zeyara.
Please be Zeyara.
Pleaassseee be Zeyara!

I had even cleaned his already clean bedroom and taken my clothes out of his cupboard in case he showed up and didn't like that.
Not only that, I also made the best dinner I could and dressed up really fancy.
Just the probability of him showing up had me going insane, what would happen when I see him?

After a few more footsteps were heard, a silhouette appeared in that dark moon less night.

My hands tightened around the gun as I realised immediately by the person's figure that he could not be Zeyara. In fact he could not be any one I recognised.

As if he knew where I was, the man started walking towards the tree, towards me.
I panicked, wanting to run away but I held myself. I had to learn to defend myself and face my fears. I couldn't keep on relying on others, relying on Zeyara for my safety.

I extended my arm holding the gun, pointing it towards the male silhouette who was nearing me with every passing second. He had a unique gait, like a military person and his steps were heavy.

As he kept on coming closer, his figure started becoming clearer to me.

When he was just a foot away from me, I gasped realising who he was.
Shock registered on my face as he looked at me deeply with his narrow eyes, black eyes.

"F-father?" I managed to mumble as my extended arm slowly retreated  and fell at my side.

The man didn't speak, face emotion less but eyes clicking to prevent the eruption of an emotional volcano.

Seconds passed as my mind took it slow to process that he was the same man for whose love I had cried for before going to bed every night, not even knowing that he existed. The flashbacks of all those eids that I spent at home doing chores while Minahil and the others went to celebrate, the memories of my parent teacher meetings which were left unattended by Minahil's parents, the time I wanted a father figure in my life.

"C- can I see your face?" He stuttered, unsure of how to say that he wanted to see his daughter after all those years.

Still in shock, I untied my veil letting him see me. He observed me carefully, while I observed him. He was probably in his fifties but his body was still toned and slender. Probably by all those years of harsh training and dangerous tasks.

I could see him trying his best to stay put, to not let his emotions take over but then he finally gave up and his eyes welled up with tears.
"I missed you." He whispered with great difficulty.

I was aware of the tears streaming down my face but I didn't stop them. As a reflex action, I felt myself hugging him. He hugged me back without saying anything more.

"You left me." I murmured as my father kissed my head for the first time in my wake. I wanted to break the hug and be angry at him, wanted to tell him I hated him for leaving me alone and then making the whole world pretend that I was yatim.(Fatherless.)

"I lost your mother by keeping her with me. I couldn't bear to lose you too." He breathed on my head, kissing it once again while tears gushed out of his eyes. This made me sob even more than before.

He wasn't crying or wailing like me, his tears were silent and composed. He had not only trained his body, but also his emotions.

I broke the hug against my will, only because I had a lot of questions. I opened my mouth to speak but closed it again. I didn't know what to call him.
Dad or papa or abbi or....

"Baba" He said, sensing my tension.
I stared at his teary face as he explained. "I was teaching you how to say that when I had to leave you. You only managed to say 'Ba' at that time."

"Baba." The letters bounced on my lips smoothly which made him smile and cry at the same time.

"Baba let's go home! Why are we here?"

He shook his head at this. "I can't. I'm sorry. I have to go back. This fight isn't over yet. I started it and I will finish it in sha Allah. The only reason I came here for, was you. Recently I had been receiving notifications of MZS seeing the video messages from his home base but he wasn't at his home so I got suspicious about it.
I set up a tracking system and turned out that you were the one seeing those video messages at his home.
As you already figured out that I was alive, there was no point in pretending anymore."

I swallowed the lump in my throat as he wiped his tears off. "Baba MZS....." I trailed off unable to complete my sentence.

"Yes, Zeyara." Baba completed the sentence for me. "You got married to him?"

It was more of a statement than a question since he already knew about it. I looked down at the ground beneath me. Even though this was the first time I was talking to my father, it was still awkward to discuss the subject of boys with him.

I nodded my head and he continued speaking. "He asked for my permission to marry you and I said it's your choice. I had no right to tell you what to do after not being in your life."

I looked up at him and gulped before asking, "Suppose you were in my life. Would you have allowed me to marry Zeyara?"

I was scared of his answer. I could feel my heart beating crazily.
He stared at me for a few seconds before replying. "No. I wanted to keep you away from all this. Marrying Zeyara means becoming a part of it."

"Baba leave that apart. Imagine we were in a perfect world where there were no terrorists and no Alnihayya, would you still not let me marry Zeyara?" I asked with my eyes full of hope. I wanted him to say yes. I wanted my real father to acknowledge that I made a good decision, a good choice.

He was staring at me but was lost in his own deep thoughts. Seconds later, he finally replied, "In such a world, he wouldn't even have ever seen you."

"Baba..."

"Mashal." He looked into my eyes, the emotions suddenly ward off his face and he was back to his grim, serious look. "I can't stay here for long. I have to leave. This might even be the last time you'll see me. A war is coming up and wars never guarantee lives."

"No!" I pleaded. "I've had enough. I can't take it anymore. Please don't leave! Please don't start a war! Please send Zeyara home! Please Baba I know you can do this!"

Seeing the tears in my eyes, he looked away to prevent himself from crying again. "This is important. You've got to be strong. See, that's why I wanted to keep you out of this."

"Ba-"

He put his hand in front of me, stopping me from speaking again. "Don't make it more difficult than it already is." He murmured softly.

"If you can't stay then take me with you!" I begged him. "Don't leave me like you left me all those years ago."

I knew I clicked a spot by saying that as baba's face softened.

"Please baba. Take me with you if you really do love me." I brought my hands together and pleaded, not leaving him any space to refuse.

☆

What happens next? I'm curious to know your theories. 🤔

Also, about the previous chapter.
I know many people find the topic of sexual abuse very disturbing and don't like talking about it but I did put it in this book, a lot of it actually.
It's something parents don't talk to their girls about unfortunately. The don't realise that they need to know for their own safety.
Many of you didn't like me referring to that but I wanted to do to raise awareness.
Especially when;
In the past few months TWO girls of ages 12 got abused at the area where I live in Manchester.

I feel like this issue should be addressed.

And guys I recently read a book on how stories spread 'false information' and 'fitnah' and call it Islamic, putting it in the "Spiritual" category. I know I'm not perfect AT ALL so I'm not keeping my book in that category. It's easier to write a non Muslim story in that regard but writing an Islamic one, there are loads of sensitive issues.
So I'm requesting you people that if you read something in this book which is wrong islamically or goes against the sunnah then please speak out.
Let me know because I might not know and end up committing a huge sin!

Salam o alaikum!
-Muskaan.