•Basma

Bashir.

My Bashir.

This so called Bashir that Jameel was speaking to on the phone some days ago, was he my Bashir?

The Bashir that became my best friend for the last few months, my confidante after my sisters, Aaliyah and Yusra or another homosapien that answered to the same name?

The mans voice sounded a lot like Bashir's voice but what I struggled to understand is if he was a part of this cruel plan or he was as oblivious as I was.

I woke up with thoughts of Rayyan today and I prayed for his wellbeing as well as Bashir's. These men made me happy in their own ways especially Rayyan who now owns my heart and soul combined and my body—as of recent.

I pray Allah forgives us for the decisions we made in our moments of blindness and utter lust. After this I'm never engaging in any filth and hopefully, he understands and refrains from it too.

How many days, weeks, months—that could be an exaggeration— but for how long have I been here? Nobody has come to save me. Are they still looking for me or have they forgotten that their blood has been transported forcefully elsewhere—left my case to became cold, my file shifted to the bottom of the others before me.

Chaima walks into my room without knocking and throws a rainbow of clothes onto the edge of the bed. "Wear this and get ready for him." Hands on her hips, lips in a straight line with a frown on her face—she stood by the door waiting for me to move.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Ask him yourself." After these few days I noticed she was deeply in love with Jameel. The way she smiles when only he, speaks. The way she tries her hardest to get his attention in the room.

It seems he knew and was just ignoring her but I couldn't care less. All I wanted was to go back to my family. They could have a fiesta of love after my departure if they wished.

I slowly moved off the bed and into the bathroom to brush my teeth and take a shower.

I found him waiting on the edge of the bed for him and I ran back into the bathroom in shock. I stared at the mirror and prayed he would be gone. I wasn't ready to face to him in only a towel.

I peep from behind the door and he's still there—staring at the floor—deep in his own thoughts.

"Please pass my my clothes and I'll be ready soon."

He looked up and smiled upon noticing my position behind the door with my hands stretching outside. He does as I say and picks what he likes from the pile and hands me a long sleeved turtleneck, palazzo and a veil.

I asked him to give me another shirt because my pregnancy was already showing and the shirt would be tight so he offers a dress shirt and I ask for leggings to go with it instead of the palazzo.

After that I get my shoes and we head out with my veil wrapped around my body like a coat. The look in his eyes told me he liked the way I was dressed and I resented him more for staring too long.

We drove for what felt like forever until he stops in front of a large dirty looking building that was covered with glass windows and tents at the entrance. It looked like an old castle.

Jameel stops in the parking lot and doesn't say anything. He goes out and around to open my door. How chivalrous I regarded—in my mind of course. I wasn't going to tell him that so he would think he was making an impression.

I came down and he left his hand mid-air for me to hold with a smile. I really wanted to ignore him. Really wanted to push past him and run to anybody nearby, explain my predicament so they'll call the police but instead I compose myself and let him hold my hands with a tight smile.

"Now that you've been well behaved these days I'll let you go out more and  have some fun before our wedding."

"Sounds great." Really Basma? Sounds great? I could've tried to sound more enthusiastic but I felt weaker than usual and didn't feel the need to speak much. It made my head spin and me, nauseous. I'll blame it on my not attending the last two hospital check ups because of this trip to God-knows-where, maybe this was his escape plan.

No communication, no location, no engagement with the outside world, no police on his trail. Quite smart but did he ever stop to think that I was smarter? I'll get him to sign his fathers papers just to piss him off, get his father arrested for whatever illegal business he was trying to start and shut down their family for good.

In that case, out of consideration, I would not involve his sister or mother. I was angry at them for not supporting me when their son and brother was pummeling me every night during our marriage but still, they weren't threatening me now and will never.

He shuts the door and presses the lock on the remote of the car and he begins blabbering like a child.

"Why are we here?" I interjected.

"I want us to check the health of the baby."

"Ok."

"Ok? Is that all you'll say? At least give me credit for something!"

"What do you want me to say? I'm grateful? I sure as hell am not!"

"Don't be stubborn. Just acknowledge what I'm doing for you. I'll do anything."

You'll do anything right? I thought. Maybe this was my chance to get him to sign the papers. I still had his fathers phone number in my bag. After he does it I'll find a way to contact him but is it the right time?

That's bullshit! There's no right time. I could end up here for years as his hostage because he was crazy. I think I'll work with the opportunity thrown my way.

"You'll do anything?"

"Anything." He squeezes my hand.

"Ok, I have a task for you."

"Which is?" He stopped now. His eyes watching me with rapt attention.

"I need you to do some important paperwork I still have in my bag then allow me to send it back."

"What's it for?"

I knew Jameel wasn't daft so I had to play it cool not to arise suspicions. He would read it and see the company name boldly so what do I do? I'll tell him it's for something I need my former spouse to endorse if I'm going to go ahead with my work plans.

He would understand right? Obviously I'm not in the health sector so I have no business with what is stated in the papers but what could I do?

I'd do anything to escape this hell. Maybe I'll say that's the only thing that'll make me happy with this marriage.

"I'm working on building a new hospital and buying equipments from overseas. I have the money but I need someone with power in the health sector to sign it."

He remained quiet for a while before agreeing to do it.

"Thank you b-baby."

"Baby?" He raises an eyebrow, amused. "If you'll be like this everyday then I'll do everything you want to see you happy."

I laughed, "We'll see if you can keep up with your words."

We reached the entrance of the hospital and I stayed with my eyes fixated on the name. He dragged me in cheerfully where we met an empty reception that smelt heavenly and a woman with a Burka behind the counter writing something.

We probably came too early. He must've been gauging whether it was ok to bring me out with people around or not so that I wouldn't get him in any trouble.

"Good morning." He greeted the woman with a smile I was once in love with.

"Good morning sir. We're here to see Dr. Sara."

"Does she have an appointment with you?"

"Yes she does."

"Up the stairs, first room to your left." She explained, calmly but somewhat rudely without even looking at us.

We followed her directions and ended up exactly where we wanted to be. He knocked and I stayed behind him stifling a yawn.

The doctor opens her door with a smile and asks us to come in as she continues to press on a button of her dispenser to fill her cup with water.

She returns to her seat and she asks us to do the same. She was beautiful, polite and seemed smart—a woman perfect for Jameel. But he didn't even look at her more than once. His eyes rested on my body and remained there, only shifting to the woman if she asked him a question.

"Chaima has told me all about you. What's wrong? She says you're pregnant."

Jameel steps in to answer with the clearing of his throat, "We've been moving because of my work and she hasn't been able to check in with a hospital so I thought it'd be good if she saw a doctor before we moved again."

"Sir, that's not good for a pregnant lady firstly. She should be at home getting some rest. She's risking her child to be on a plane every now and then. I'd advice we take a test and then we find out what her and her child's status is."

"We understand but we both made the decision unanimously."

"I understand that." She gets up, "Shall we?" She asks pointing at the door.

"Sure."

She goes out of the room and we follow her behind to a room with a worn out hospital bed and that looked old.

"Have a seat." She says, closing the door.

"Ok."

She rubs a jelly like substance onto my stomach and begins to drag around—softly—a pencil like thing across my stomach.

"The baby is healthy Alhamdulillah. Take care of yourself and the baby will continue to be fine."

We exit her office and make our way back to her office. She prescribed some drugs I was supposed to be taking, claiming they were antibiotics and some vitamins for the baby.

Jameel let me head to the car while he stopped at the pharmacy downstairs to buy it. He joins me later on  and we drive back home in a silence that was calming.

****

Jameel begs for me to join him in his room for dinner and I agreed just because he accepted to grant my one wish.

Side by side we walked into the room and found Chaima who was laying naked in the middle of the bed with only his duvet covering her chest to her legs.

She yelled in shock and covered herself more. Too ashamed to say anything, I watched her wrap it around her body and run out as she muttered angrily as she stepped out. Her eyes were on me throughout and I could see the hatred that was there, was lit by me.

I exited the room without saying a word to Jameel and headed to my room where I slept without having dinner because Chaima refused to send us any food that night.

03:00am. I woke up again. Sweaty, tired and hungry. I went to the bathroom and washed my face then made for the kitchen to get some food for myself.

I heard sounds on my way down but I assumed it was Jameel who was hitting the pots and pans trying to cook something but I was wrong. Chaima stood in a corner with her hand holdin a glass cup in the air about to throw it on the wall.

Everywhere was trashed and messy. Her frustration emanated from where she stood. It took a few seconds for her to notice me and she all but hissed and continue with throwing her glass cup.

"Chaima stop!" I uttered.

"You don't understand." She threw a pan that almost hit and I feared she would try to kill me.

Her hair was scattered and she looked as if she had just come out of an asylum.

"I understand that you love him."

"That's sweet but does he understand that? No! So stay away."

She raised her hand again, ready to strike at me with a small plate then I yelled, "I'll help you!"

She stopped, "How?"

"I know the things he likes. We were once married."

"I know! Rub it in my face."

"It's not like that. I'm just saying I know him in and out."

She dropped the plate and sat on the floor, "Go ahead."

"But you'll have to help me too." I argued.

"I can't do that."

"Then the deal is off." I walked out of the kitchen.

"Wait, please—I'm desperate." She wept, her nose was red already and she suffered to breathe, "My inhaler, please get it. It's in the cupboard. Please!"

I rushed to the cupboard her fingers pointed at and brought out a small carton with new inhalers. I brought out one and skipped across the broken handles and cups to give her.

After a few puffs her breathing returns to normal and she wipes her tears, "I'll whip you up something to eat then we can go to my room to talk."

I didn't need to hear a thank you from her. Her cooking and inviting me to her room was enough since she would be my way out. If not for today I wouldn't have known we were in Marrakech.

She cooks and pours a plate for both of us, sets it in a tray with two cups of guava juice and carries it upstairs where we sat on the floor to eat.

"Now what?" She asks, chewing her food loudly.

"In three days I'll make you his dream woman."

"What's my part to play in this? You mentioned me helping you for something."

"Yes, I want to find a way to call my family and raise alarm."

"I don't want to betray him." She nagged, still crying.

"Then you won't have him to yourself."

"How do I do that without angering him?"

"Leave that to me. Just give me a phone and I'll find ways to get you and him together." I added, "Alone. You'll do the rest with the tips I give you."

"Ok." She exclaimed, "I can buy you a new phone and a new SIM card  that I'll register before bringing it back but you'll have to be careful. If he finds out I'll throw you under the bus. After all we're not friends—just enemies with a common goal."

"Fair point. Either ways we both can't get caught. You still need to continue speaking to me rudely."

"That's easy."

"So can you tell me how you and Jameel met?" I asked once we'd all started to get comfortable.

"Thats a very long story—about six to seven years ago."

"That's a really long time."

"Yes. We won't be able to finish this night."

"I'm not sleepy."

"Jameel will meet us here in the morning and find this suspicious."

"Ok, tomorrow morning?"

"Insha Allah."

By time we're done talking the food is also melting in our bellies so I bid her goodnight and head to my room with a refreshed hope that things would be great again.
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~Aisha SafiyanuXO💚