T h i r t y  T h r e e

This one is for NooceeH
:)

《•DISCLAIMER•》

This story or the writer, in no way promote or support terrorism or sexual harrassment/abuse.

Just as it was stated in the beginning, this story is in the light of the current world circumstances.

PG 16 - (references to harrassment)

☆

I said to Allah, "I hate life."
He replied, "Who asked you to love life? Just love Me and life will be beautiful."

☆

Mashal

'The heart pumps oxygen and nutrient filled blood in our arteries.'

I groaned in annoyance before letting my face fall on the biology text book. Finals were supposed to be in May but the board had shifted the schedule back a month so that 'political tension doesn't affect students.' Much to my disappointment it meant that tomorrow was my biology exam.

"I'm pretty sure my heart pumps tiredness in my arteries instead of oxygen." I mumbled to myself, stretching my arms in front of me. I had been studying the whole night but I still couldn't get my head around the topics.
I'll have to bid farewell to my A stars this time.

Fajr was at six thirty and it was six o' clock so I still had half an hour to study but knowing that my mind won't allow that anymore, I pulled aside the blue curtain draped over the window in front of me. I was sitting on Zeyara's study table and the window was right in front of me.

The window overlooked Minahil's house. More accurately it overlooked my old room.
I'm glad I always had the curtains on my window back then. It would've been weird knowing that Zeyara could watch me so easily.

The sky was still dark but the street was lit up with the soft yellow light of the street lights.
I was staring at the street idly with my hand under my chin, supporting my face. Everything was serene and peaceful.

I was about to set the curtain again when I saw a girl about my age come running in the street. That was a weird sight at that time so I leaned in to look at her as she kept on coming closer.

It was freezing cold but she wasn't wearing a jacket. The tiny red dress she was wearing didn't even reach her knees and I could tell, even from that distance, her dress was torn near her shoulders and sleeves.
Not only that, her feet were bare without any shoes on and her hair seemed as if someone had pulled them in all the weird directions.

When she stopped running and stood outside the house opposite to the one I was in, I knew she was Minahil.

I gasped at her despecable state with all sorts of disturbing thoughts coming in my mind. I stood up with the shock when she didn't press the door bell and started walking away again.

"No Minahil wait!" I screamed, even though she couldn't hear me from the closed window.

I grabbed a scarf, roughly slipping it on my head before rushing out of the room and down the stairs. I didn't want to waste time wearing an abaya.

I unlocked the main door and dashed out at an alarming speed.
"Minahil!" I said running behind her. I tried my best to keep my voice loud enough so she should hear it but at the same time soft enough so that no one else could.

She stopped walking abruptly and turned around to see me.
I could see her eyes brimming with tears that brought down her black masscara as they fell. Her red lipstick was smudged and I gasped in horror when my eyes fell upon the bruises on her cold bare arms.

"W-what happened?" I asked, even though I think I knew the dreaded answer to that.

"Mashal... Zain.." she whispered, breaking into hiccups as she ran to embrace me, her red polished finger nails clenching my shirt as if letting go would kill her.
She smelled of sweat, semen and cigarettes. That was more than enough to confirm what happened to her.

"Shh its okay." I said reassuringly, patting her back. "Come to my house."

At that time starting a lecture about halal or haram wasn't going to help. I didn't want to be the one to say, 'You deserved this.'

"I- I am a filthy, u-unclean whor-"

"Don't say that! Come with me." I whispered, not letting her complete her sentence as I directed her freezing body towards Zeyara's house.

I took her up to Zeyara's room quickly locking the door. It was almost six thirty- time for fajr and I could hear movements in Uncle Suleiman's room indicating that he was awake.
I wouldn't want him to see Minahil in such a state.

"Here.....wear this." I said, handing her a hoodie and a baggy pant while she kept on weeping, sitting on the bed.

Without saying anything she took the clothes from me. I turned around to the study table and started packing my college bag to allow her some privacy while she changed.

When she was done, I could hear Uncle Suleiman giving the fajr azan down in the living room.

"Come lets pray." I whispered to her. She was now dressed and had stopped crying but her head was hanging low, refusing to look up.

She didn't reply and kept facing down.
"Minahil..." I said softly, bending down on the floor near her. "Whatever happened, let it go." I placed my hand on her knee reassuringly.

"Aren't you going to ask me what happened?" She ask with trembling lips and a weak voice.

"No." I shook my head. "Forget it and pray with me. Ask for forgiveness."

My words caused her to tear up again and she cried violanetly, even more intensly than before.

"Minahil please....." I mumbled, not knowing what else to say as my own eyes had started welling up.
The incident that took place in Afghanistan was still fresh in my mind. At least Sanan was there to save me but for Minahil.....

I was just hoping for one thing, that she escaped and it didn't happen.

"I can't p- pray." She muttered in between her sobs. "He- he called me over to his house for dinner saying that I should wear this red dress because I look good in it-"

"Don't tell me Minahil. If Allah has covered it, let it remain covered." I interrupted her, wiping my silent tears.

Why did everyone have to tell all this to me? It makes me feel guilty for not being able to help them.
Even Sanan told me that dark secret of his mother's life.

"I need to tell you!" She sobbed, "I went there. He wasn't alone.... he wasn't alone."
She burst out crying again and I stood up, hugging her from the side.

I closed my eyes as she kept on speaking. "It hurts i- it hurts so much. They were three of them, his friends. They threw me out after rapin-" She cried into my shirt unable to complete that word. "You were right Mashal. You said that day that I would become a prostitute and it came true. Look at what I have become now."

A pang of regret rose in my heart as my mind retraced my words. 'Best of luck for becoming a prostitute.'
Even at the time when I said them, I knew I would regret it and now I am.
Tears freely flowed down my face as I spoke trying to calm her down and my own self as well.

"Minahil please stop.... forgive me for saying that. I'm sorry."

"I deserved that! I can never go back to my parents now. I can't go anywhere." She sobbed continuosly, wetting my shirt in the process.

I didn't have a reply to that so I remained silent, not breaking the hug.

"Mashal..." she mumbled my name with so much pain that even I could feel it. "What if I'm p- pregnant? I can still smell it, f-feel it. No one will ever marry me now."

I gulped the lump in my throat. "I will file a case against that monster!" I huffed with anger raditaing through my entire body.

"No! Don't! You can't tell anyone." She sobbed.

"But Minahil-"

"Please." She pleaded, breaking the hug and bringing her hands together with the palms touching each other.
She was literally begging me.

I know how fragile a woman's shame is. A tiny incident had caused everyone to call me shameless. What would happen if someone got to know about this huge thing? Minahil was right. We shouldn't tell anyone.

I pulled her begging hands apart and nodded. "Okay. Go to the bathroom and get cleaned. I'll wait for you. We'll pray together."

"After all that happened you want me to pray?" She asked meekly.

"I would've told you to pray even if something ten times worse had happened." I said, patting her shoulder.

I handed her the tissue box to dry her tears while I opened the cupboard to look for a towel.
I had totally forgot that Minahil was unaware of my marriage with Zeyara. I had opened the cupboard in front of her and all of Zeyara's clothes were on display.

"Take this towel and go to the bathroom. Do you need anything else?"

"No." She mumbled shaking her head as she took the towel from me. "Mashal why are you in this house? Isn't this Zeyara's house? I thought you lived with your brother."

"Uh.."
I felt at a complete loss of words. How could I be such an idiot. As far as Minahil knew, I should be at Ibrahim's house on Cleeve road not here on Ranford Street.

I was about to make an excuse but then I bit my lip to stop myself. Lying had always brought more trouble for me.
I heaved an aggravated sigh, ready to make the confession.
"I married Zeyara." I mumbled, looking down.

"Oh okay.......wait WHAT?"
Minahil stood up from the bed in shock, staring at me with her wide eyes.

"How? When?!" She asked in urgency.

"I'll tell you later. Please now go get bathed. The time for fajr is ending!" I pushed her out of the room and into the bathroom.

After Minahil was out of sight, I cried my heart out. I was trying to be quite sensible and strong in front of her but now, I felt so bad.
This was not a small thing. After what happened to Sanan's mother, her life was ruined. I wouldn't ever want that for Minahil.

I let myself drop to the floor in sujood. I could feel my whole system shaking as I spoke to the Almighty.
"Ya Allah! Please forgive me and forgive Minahil for only you can forgive. Rabbi please have mercy on her. Guide her to the right path and send someone for her. Send her someone who would love and cherish her and help her strive for Jannah."

When I was done making the dua, I rose back up, seeing my phone light up with a new message.
It was an unknown number.
"Hey Nathan here! Can I call you?"

I wanted to break my phone at that very instant. I had a new found hatred for boys like him, boys like Zain.
"If I receive one more message, I'll report you for harressing me and I'm serious." I replied back, trying to figure out how he received my number.

As soon as I pressed the send button, I heard someone knock at my door. By the way the door was being knocked, I could tell it was Uncle Suleiman because Marwa never knocks, she bangs.

I opened the door hesitantly and greeted him. "Assalam o alaikum."

"Walaikim Salam. Did Zeyara come back?!" He asked with excitement.

I had no idea why he assumed that but I shook my head. "No. Why?"

"Oh.." he sighed, "Someone's in the bathroom. You're here, Marwa's down so I thought that maybe...."

Yeah. The fault in British houses. You go to the toilet and everyone else gets to know exactly when you flush, shower or open the tap. It's like an announcement, 'Hey guys I'm in the toilet!'

"Uncle that's actually my friend in there. She just....came a while ago." I smiled.

"That explains why you didn't come to pray with us."

"I'm sorry uncle!"

"Its okay habibti. I have to go to the post office now." He smiled before turning around to walk away.

Phew.

"Oh yeah Mashal" he turned back around, taking away my relief again. "You had to give me Zeyara's number?"

Shoot.
He didn't forget that. Now another lie to cover this up.
"Ummm-"

Just when I was about to make an excuse, the bathroom door opened and out stepped Minahil. Me and Uncle Suleiman both looked at her direction. She had her head hanging low, the towel covering her wet hair to dry them up and a sad expression on her face.

"That's your friend?" Uncle addressed me smiling.

I nodded a yes and uncle said a Salam to Minahil.

She replied back lowly.

"I'm getting late then. I should leave." He uttered before turning around and walking down the stairs.

"Alhamdulillah." I heaved a sigh of relief for not having to tell another lie, and glanced at Minahil.
She looked much cleaner now but I knew its easy to clean the body, the real difficulty is to clean the scarred heart.

She stood there like a sad statue not saying anything. I grabbed her by her arm gently dragging her in the room with me. "We have to pray or we will miss it."

She didn't speak a single word while I helped to secure a scarf around her head and spread the praying mat for both of us.

"It's just two rakahs but I pray the sunnah as well. It's up to you if you want to pray it or not." I said to her politely as we stood on the mats facing the qibla.

"I don't know." She whispered ever so slowly. "Please recite loud. I'll do whatever you do."

I nodded in an understanding manner and started praying. I prayed the sunnah rakahs out loud for her with surah Ikhlas and Kausar. After that she understood how to pray and prayed the obligatory salah herself.

Once I was done praying, I looked at my side to see her still in sujood. She was crying, low and muffled but painful cries.

Then she completed the rest of the prayer and kept on crying even after it had ended.

"Minahil its okay. Just ask for forgiveness." I patted her shoulder before getting up and grabbing my cell phone as I left the room. She needed some time alone with her Creator.

I walked downstairs casually expecting that Marwa had already left for school but I was surprised to find her sitting on the sofa, moving her legs back and forth, like she usually does. She was dressed in her school uniform but had a sorrowful expression on her face.

"Assalam o alaikum! Why's this pretty lady so sad?" I chirped as I sat down near her.

"Walaikum Salam." She mumbled and then remained quiet.

"Marwa what's wrong?" I asked again, this time I was genuinely worried. "Why aren't you going to school?"

She glanced at me briefly before getting up and running away from there. I thought that maybe she was angry at me or something but then she came back with a paper in her hand. She put it on the table in front of me, before sitting down again.

I took the paper and started reading it. It was a notice from her school asking parents to come to their child's class and interact with them to enhance their learning.

After I was done reading and placed the notice back, she gazed at me.
"Abbi is busy with his work and ummi..... I don't have one." She murmured before crashing her head into my chest and starting to sob.

I wrapped my arms around her tiny frame and pulled her closer. "Marwa you're such a strong girl. How can you cry?" I whispered, kissing the top of her head.

"No one lets me cry. Clark cried when he lost his chocolate in the class, Tania cried when she-" Marwa let out a hiccup, "when she fell down. My science teacher cried when her dog died. Why can't I cry when my mother-"

"Marwa..." I whispered trying to find more words to form a sentence but when I failed to do that, I squeezed my arms tighter around her. She breathed into me slowly, trying to get her breathing back to normal.

I pulled her apart after a few minutes, once she had calmed down.

"If you want I can go." I offered, thinking this might cheer her up.

Instead she looked up at my glossy eyes and asked, "Where's your mother?"

The question hit me like an arrow dipped in poison. I looked at her with my mouth open wide for a second before replying. "I- I don't know. Probably with Allah, waiting for me to join her in Jannah"
I think I said that more to console myself than her.

For me, at least I didn't have memories with my mother. I didn't spend enough time with her and I'm thankful for that. Otherwise I would have missed her way more.
But for Marwa, she had beautiful memories with her mother.

Memories. they invade our mind and occupy our heart. They never leave, never die, leaving us stuck between roses and thorns.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled, "I shouldn't have cried. You never cry for that."

"It's okay Marwa. It's natural to cry. Oh you know what? Your name is related to a very important mother! I'll tell you about her later. Right now run to school! You'll get late."

"JazakAllah khair Metal!" She smiled before kissing my cheek. "See I was right. I need you to keep me stable."

Marwa ran out of my embrace while I grinned at her sweet words. I was planning on telling her the story of the mountains of Safa and Marwa and Hazrat Hajir.

"Fi amanillah!" She said before rushing out the main door with her bag on her shoulders. Her school was in the same street so she was used to waking alone.
I used to be worried because of her young age to let her go alone but when I got to know of her amazing fighting skills, I was convinced.

I was in the kitchen making coffee and scrambled eggs as breakfast for Minahil and myself when my phone buzzed.
I sighed recognising the familiar message tone.

"So I googled it and found that Mezlims get rewarded to help others. You should help me!"

Ugh! It was Nathan again. I wanted to be angry at him but I couldn't help myself from laughing at the word 'Mezlims.'

"What do you want?" I texted back.

After that, I set the breakfast on the table and plopped down on the chair, waiting for Minahil to come.

That's when I received another message from him. "I want to get the title of dating all the girls of our class. I know you don't want to date me but at least if someone asks you if you are my girlfriend say yes."

So I heard those girls right. That's what he wants.
"Are you out of your mind?" I texted.

"Okay don't do that but at least don't say no if you can't say yes. Please!"

I groaned at his stupidity. "How will this benefit you?"

"I will have an achievement....if not in studies then at least in this." He replied a minute later.

I rolled my eyes. How could someone consider this an achievement?
"I can't help you and I'm not sorry for that."
That's the last text I sent before blocking that number.

The world was preparing for a war and there he was begging for a 'dating the most girls' title.

It just shouldn't happen. I wish I could talk to dad and stop him from any time of blood shed. I wouldn't be able to bear seeing more little children like Marwa deprived of their parent's love.
Children always suffer the most from wars.

Parents who lose their children may get new children, spouses may marry again but children can never get new parents.

I was just about to be ungrateful again, thinking why Allah would do that?
But then I remembered our Prophet SAW. He SAW lost his father before he was born. At that time there wasn't even a camera or a method of taking pictures.
Meaning, he never saw his father, not even in a picture.

Then he lost his mother at the age of six.
Imagine a little boy of six, crying while hugging his mother's grave. The boy who had to grow up to be the Habib of Allah.

Unknowingly I had started crying. How could I be so ungrateful?
"Astagfirullah." I mumbled wiping away my tears and then smiled with an Alhamdulillah.

Which of the favours of your Lord would you deny?

"Mashal?" I heard Minahil's voice as she stepped down the stairs.

"I'm here on the dining table!" I said loud enough for her to hear.

A few steps later she was standing in front of me, wearing the same hoodie she had helped me to choose from Primark.
"Did I tell you before that you have amazing fashion sense?" I chuckled lowly trying to wipe off the sorrow from her face.

"What's the use of fashion sense when you don't have any other sense." She muttered as she pulled out a chair for herself.

"Stop being a pessimist." I frowned, "You just repented Allah will forgive you. It wasn't your fault though. You didn't ask them to do this to you...."

She glanced at me and let out a fake, humor less laugh. "I went to a boy's house wearing a short red dress in the middle of the night and you're telling me this wasn't my fault."

"Well.....Okay....maybe.."

The three of us were sitting on the table, the third being silence, with the untouched breakfast in front of us. Minahil had not smiled even once since I saw her on the street and brought her here.
She looked like someone had sucked the soul out of her.

"Minahil eat something." I said placing a plate in front of her. "I made scrambled eggs for you. You love them right? Mama used to make them for you every morning."

She didn't flinch for a moment but then turned to face me on her chair. "Yeah for me, but I never let her make anything for you. Why are you even helping me? For being a bitch?"

"For my whole life I've known you as my elder sister. That's enough reason to help you." I smiled at her, even though my mind played flashbacks of the time when I had to go to college for my enrolment and wanted mama to wish me or make dua for me but instead, her priority was to make breakfast for Minahil.

She nodded in silence and mumbled "I'm sorry" while staring at the empty white plate in front of her.

"It's alright. It's in the past." I replied and passed her the dish with the eggs.

Hesitantly she took some out for herself and passed it back to me. Soon we had started eating and I realised I had made the eggs perfectly. Another reason to say Alhamdulillah.

"Mashal I really should go to a doctor." Minahil said after sipping her coffee. "I'm so scared."

"Its going to be okay in sha Allah. I have to go for my exam. When I come back home, we can go together."

She put her spoon down and glanced at me with a scared expression. "You're leaving? Where will I go then?"

"To your home." I replied.

"I can't." She shook her head. "I just can't. I won't be able to face them Mashal. Please don't force me."

Her eyes had started watering again as she pleaded. I couldn't do anything else except for giving in.
"Fine. You can stay here but at least call and let them know. They'll be worried."

"No they won't." She looked away from me, "I told them I'm going to stay at a friend's house when I went out to Zain."

"Don't take his name in front of me!" I dejected, "Minahil you shouldn't lie to your parents at least!"
Look who's talking.

"I know. I'm sorry. Please let me stay."

"Okay." I sighed, "I'll go get changed now."

"Oh yeah Mashal. You were going to explain to me about you and Zeyara." She rose her brow in curiosity.

"What's there to explain?" I gulped, "He asked Ibrahim for my hand and I agreed. That's it."
I didn't tell her anything about my horrific adventure to Afghanistan, Pakistan and then to Syria.

"Ibrahim? Isn't he that egoistic brother of yours who keeps his nose higher than the eifel tower. " She scowled.

"Did you ever talk to him?" I asked, trying to control my laughter. Being a good sister I should've scolded Minahil from using those words for my brother but instead they were making me laugh.

"Yeah I did." She rolled her eyes. "I pity the woman who gets married to him. But that's not the point. The point is that you Miss Mashal got married to Zeyara!"

"Come on. People get married everyday. It's not a big thing." I stood up from my chair in a hurry, not wanting to answer her questions. "I've got to go college."

"Hey wait miss red cheeks! The way you are blushing I can clearly see its way more than just that!" She exclaimed behind me while I walked off, trying to ignore her accusing eyes.

☆

'What is the prosthetic group of haemoglobin?'

Ha! That's easy. I circled 'iron' as the answer to the last MCQ of the exam.
The exam had gone well even though I had minimum preparation.
I handed over the answer sheet to the examiner and left the hall.

Alhamdulillah. One down, two left.

I was walking in the hallway, towards the exit. More like flying, because my exam had gone well.

"Mashal!"

Not again. It was Nathan's voice. I immediately frowmed and continued walking. I was in no mood to talk to him and ruin my happiness.

"Hey Wait!" He screamed as he started running to catch up to me.

"Aren't you going to help me?" He asked, trying to catch his breath once he was beside me.

"I already told you I'm taken!" I dejected, "Leave me alone."

"Taken by whom? I'll beat the shit out of him and then will you help me?"
He folded his arms in front of him and smirked.

"Zeyara." I replied. I was about to say 'forget about beating, you can't even find him,'

But he took the lead. "What?!" Nathan's blue eyes enlarged with shock and fear as he gaped.
He looked scared to say the least.
"You- I... -Just please don't tell him about this! I'll never text you again I swear!"

I watched in confusion as he ran off, not waiting to hear my reply. I was still standing there watching thinking why he would run away, when my phone rang with a new call.
I sighed thinking it might be Nathan again but it was a different number this time. Actually it wasn't even a number, it was just 'Private number' displayed on the screen.

I picked it up as I walked out of college.
"Hello?" I spoke through the phone in an agitated voice.

"Meet me at 9 pm under the bridge opposite Cringle Park tomorrow."
It was Siri's voice that replied to my hello with this statement.

"What?" I asked in confusion but the call disconnected without a single reply.

☆

Surprise! Another chapter Alhamdulillah. :)
And I know what you guys might be thinking by reading the last few lines of the chapter. 😂
I'll say, 'Don't get your hopes too high.'

-Muskaan.