F o u r

What hurts you, blesses you
Darkness is your candle.

-Rumi-

☆

Mashal

It had become a routine matter for me.

Zeyara and I shared the same bus to college and we also had to share the prayer room. At first I thought it would be better if I let him pray first and after he is done then I'd go but he just takes so long to pray that if I don't pray at the same time as him, I would be late for class.

I try my best not to talk to him and I guess he does the same because it's been a week but we only talked once; only when there were just two seats in the bus. Other than that, I appreciate his values.

He is such an amazing muslim. Unlike other boys, he doesn't try to find excuses to talk to girls.

I wish I was as pious as him.

But today, something peculiar happened. I boarded the bus but Zeyara was not there. I thought that he might be late and didn't give much attention to this.

However, when I got off at the bus stop near my college, I saw a very familiar car there.
That white Honda.

No Mashal, there are a million white Hondas across the globe. Its not her car.

Shrugging the thought off my mind I walked nearer to the car. My curious eyes scanned the number plate and to my horror, it really was Minahil's car.

It was Minahil's car just outside my college entrance and I couldn't comprehend why she would come to my college.

Maybe she came here to apologise......
But she could've apologised at home. Awwwww my sister came all the way here just to say sorry to me!

Smiling, I walked over to the car. Minahil's reflective windows didn't allow me to see inside so I gently tapped her window.

She rolled her window down slowly revealing her laughing face.

But it's not her face that made my soul almost leave my body. It was the face of the person sitting beside her.

Mohammed Zeyara.

Here I was, thinking good of him. Thinking that he was not like other boys who hit upon girls whenever they get the chance.

And there he was hanging out with my own sister.
I felt my blood boil and anger made its way to my limbs.

"Hiya sister! Whatsupp?" Minahil chuckled, well aware of the effect her actions had on me.
But I was not looking at her. I was looking at the hypocrite sitting in my sister's car. I swear if eyes could kill, my eyes would've killed him right then and there.

He stared back at me with a look of confusion as if asking me what he did wrong.
Such an actor. So now he's trying to play innocent?

"I hate you! Both of you." I growled at them. I wanted to scream but it was not a scream. It was more like a whimper, a cry of someone who had been robbed.

Anger turned into hatred, the arrows of hatred struck my heart and the ache made tears gush out of my eyes.

Oblivious to my feelings, Minahil kept on grinning. "Don't be jealous that I stole your guy." She winked at me.

Enough.

"No Minahil he's not my guy. I don't have a guy. Even if I had, he would not be a pathetic hypocrite." I spat through gritted teeth. I could've said more but my bleeding eyes didn't allow me to.

I turned around quickly, ignoring Zeyara's voice behind me as he got out of the car and ran up to me.

I wasn't going to stop and listen to him say something that would make me loathe him even more. I kept my pace fast so that he wouldn't reach me.

I wasn't ready to go to the Chemistry class. I couldn't face Zeyara or anyone to be honest. I made my way to the bathroom and locked myself in one of the stalls, crying the life out of me.

For the first time in my life, I thought that I had met someone who was a practicing muslim. Someone who actually practiced the religion as a whole. Someone whom I had started taking as an idol.

But that someone turned out to be the worst person ever.
A hypocrite.
Someone who uses religion to show that he is innocent and behind all the prayers and beard, he is just like the others. Even worse than the others.

He is worse than Minahil even. At least Minahil is not a hypocrite. She doesn't hide who she really is. If she is doing something wrong, she isn't using religion to cover it up.

Such a disgusting two faced animal.

Tears made my eyes swell and my niqab damp as the minutes passed by. Finally, after taking an oath that I won't ever think of Minahil or Zeyara again, I decided to head off to my class.

Fifteen minutes of Chemistry had already passed and it was the tutor's right to rebuke me so with my head and heart hanging low, I quietly listened as Sir gave me a huge lecture on punctuality.
Then he finally allowed me to enter the class saying, "This should never happen again."

Yes Sir. This should never ever happen again.

As I made my way to my seat, I could see Zeyara from the corner of my eye. I could tell he was staring at me but I didn't even care to look at him.

The lecture passed roughly and we also got the results for our initial assessment.

As expected.
I got an A.

I was the only one who got an A and Sir made everyone clap for me. To be honest it turned my cheeks red but also reduced my anger. No matter how many A's you get, it still is a thing to celebrate.

After that I rushed out of the class, knowing that if I stayed there for long, I would have to face Zeyara. And that was the last thing I wanted to happen.

The day continued with Biology and a tutorial which made me completely forget about what happened in the morning.

I was happy to have forgotten all that.
But my happiness faded away as soon as I reached the prayer room for zuhr.

He was standing against the door waiting for me.

His lips parted to speak "Mashal-"

"Don't!" I cut him off. "Don't take my name and get out of my way. I have to pray." I spat harshly without looking at him.

Seeing Zeyara disgusted me. The event of the morning started playing again in my head with him in my sister's car. I wanted to punch him right then.

Ignoring my bitterness, he started speaking again. This time, he too, spoke harshly. "I don't know what you've been thinking about but I missed the bus. Minahil offered to drop me here. That's all! There's nothing else that happened."

Pause.

What?

Pause.

I looked up to meet his eyes. I believe the quote, 'Eyes speak the truth.'
Maybe I wanted to see what his eyes had to say. But as soon as I raised my eyes, he looked away from them.

"I know its wrong. I know I shouldn't have sat in a car alone with a girl and I'm sorry for that. But Wallah I didn't do anything wrong." He spoke with a mixture of guilt, sorrow and even fear.

Maybe it was the fear of Allah.

"I thought you-" I swallowed the lump in my throat and continued speaking, "I thought you....with Minahil-"

"I can never even think of that." Zeyara answered before I could complete my sentence.

I tried to reply to him but words just refused to leave my mouth. I didn't know what to feel. Zeyara still didn't look me in the eyes. He gazed down, maybe waiting for me to say something but I really had nothing left to say.

I gave myself an imaginative slap for judging Zeyara without knowing his side of the story. How could I be so naive to come to a conclusion without knowing the facts?

"I- I'm sorry." I finally managed to whisper.

"I know. I would've reacted the same way if I was you." He gave a slight smile and opened the prayer room door for me. He held it open till I walked in which was the sweetest, most gentlemanly thing ever.

I wanted to say thanks but I didn't because that would've started another conversation.

And I'm afraid if I keep on talking to him, I might start feeling things that I shouldn't feel. I didn't want him to mess up my mind and my deen.

After praying I left the prayer room while Zeyara was still praying. I ran to the bus stop as fast as I could.

I wanted to hide somewhere. Somewhere where there would be no Zeyara, no Minahil, no weight of guilt weighing down on me.

But the only place I could go was home.

The bus rolled at its usual speed, greeting me with the usual glares of unacceptance from strangers. That made my heart sink even more.

When I finally stepped inside my house, I thought that everything was fine. Nothing could possibly go wrong in there.

My eyes spotted mama and papa sitting at the dining table. I knew they had no interest in me so I just said my salam to them and was about to walk up to my room when I heard mama say, "Mashal come here. We have to talk to you."

My heart revived with excitement and eyebrows knitted in curiosity. "Talk to me?" I asked, not believing that they would actually want to talk to me.

"Yes." Papa nodded.

Taking my niqab off, I walked up to the table and plopped down on the chair next to mama, signalling them to continue speaking.

"You're 16. You'll be 17 in a few months." Papa stated plainly, without any hint of emotion. "You have to find yourself a job."

Before I could reply or even react, mama added, "We don't want you to come and ask us for money when you reach university."

I stared at my parents, questioning myself whether they even were my parents. A single tear rolled down my cheek and I felt myself drowning in an ocean of shock and frustration and I felt pinned to the floor.

I couldn't believe anything that was happening to me today.

"B-but Minahil doesn't have a job-"

"Minahil doesn't want to go to university." Mama dejected cutting off my sentence.

"No one would give me a job with my niqab." I said in between sobs.

How could they do this to me? They have enough money to send me to uni. They can easily afford it. They already know that no one would ever give a job to a niqabi. It seems as if they want me to stop studying.

And even if I got a job, it won't be good enough to pay my university bills.

"Good. Then you should take it off right?"

☆

I don't think this chapter is good enough. I'm sorry! :(

I hope I make it up to you next time.

-Muskaan.