Chapter Seventeen

                                                            "The reply"

♦Mάнŕă♦

I was descending the stairs and came into the dim-lit living room, which was unusually very quiet. My eyes searched around, I couldn't find mother or anyone else. My hands were filled with sets of brushes and I was heading outside to my painting room to paint. Subsequently, or perhaps it was the effect of my love for him, I heard Hamad call my name. His voice was distanced like he was calling me from outside.

I rushed to the door, assuming he'd be in the men's Majlis, but he wasn't there. Confused, I now headed to the garden, bare foot with my hair falling on my shoulders; the light breeze teased them with every step I took.

At last I spotted him, standing in the middle of the garden with his back to me. I slowed my pace, slightly panting. "There you are." I sputtered. He didn't reply, only turned to me and that was all that took to shake me to my core. The mountain that I was seconds ago, transformed into fragile sand dunes, and if the wind blew any harder, it'd take me away with it.

The pair of eyes that now stared at me didn't belong to Hamad, instead they were those eyes that illuminated my dreams, eyes that planted joy and awakened the rainbow. He shone like ice against the afternoon sun, and was dressed in white just like the first day I had ever seen him. Zayed remained silent and didn't greet me with a nod, the way he usually does.

I waited for him to say something because his words were a treasure, but his silence was his lock and unfortunately he seems to have lost the key.

A while later; he took his amber eyes away from me and looked around at the flowers in our garden. There were too many roses and jasmines in our house that I noticed for the first time. They weren't there yesterday. Suddenly, an eerie feeling grew in my heart. I watched as he ignored me which made me sad. I wanted to hear his voice, at least one word. I yearn to hear his voice when the noises slumber down every night. Since he is the son of happiness, the master of spring, the moon of the desert, my prince my king.

"Were you looking for me?" I attempted to converse with him. This made him turn to face me. His eyes bore mine and I was drowning deeper and deeper in them when I came back to life.

~*♥*

I opened my eyes realizing it had been a dream, and blinked several times. I wasn't breathing for a while, my heartbeats ran against time and my head felt heavy. I was unable to comprehend what I had just seen. What is wrong with me? How can I dream this way about him?

Releasing the breath that I had caught, I sat up and turned on the bed-side lamp. During the seconds my eyes adjusted with the light, I imagined him standing in my room, but as I fully recovered, his image disappeared. However, it still dwelled in my brain, a new and young memory.

To some degree, I was embarrassed and irritated, but mostly I was amazed. I cursed myself under my breath for admiring him so affectionately in my dream. Had I no modesty or any pride? In my life, never have I ever been eager to see his face let alone listening to his voice. I hardly remembered how it sounded like. And now, here I am dreaming and thinking about him every night, he's been the owner of all my thoughts lately. Wonder if I have been on his mind at all!

~*♥*

1:30 PM

Hesitant and wary, I watched mother cook in the kitchen, and was unable to approach her. I stood leaning at the door and played with the hem of my sleeve, not uttering a word. She was neglectful of my presence until, at length, when I gathered my courage and entered, which caught her attention. She passed me a warm smile and I am not sure if I returned it. I was too preoccupied with my disordered thoughts.

It was hard for me to talk to her after days of being grumpy and cranky. Therefore, as a sign of my cowardice, I ignored her and walked to the fridge, grabbing myself a bottle of juice. Mother busied herself with work again, and I followed her with my eyes, sipping through my drink, standing next to the counter.

"Mom," I began, staring at my bottle. In silence I read and re-read the name of my drink's flavor, which wasn't really hard. It simply said; 'Cocktail'.

"Ha Binti, (Yes, daughter)." She replied, with utter concern and care. I looked up at her, and knew that she read my eyes.

"Mother, I..." I paused, unable to complete. She left whatever that was in her hand and dismissed the maid who was helping her. Once we were left alone, she offered me a chair and settled down opposite me.

"What is it, my child?" Mother asked with such tenderness, it made me want to kneel right before her. As confused as I was, yet I didn't spare myself any time to think.

"Mother, I don't know what to do." I muttered, coming straight to the point. "You guys have put me in such a difficult situation." I grumbled, pouting. I came to mother with my distresses, just like I always did when I had a problem. I needed her advice, hers above all.

"It's not just you; every girl has to face this situation. It's a part of every one's life."

"Yeah, but not every girl's family emotionally tortures them." I taunted.

"No one is emotionally torturing you." She disagreed, voice firm. "If you want to do this, if you think you are ready, then put your trust in God and take a step." mother proposed.

"But I am not ready."

"Then when will you be? All the girls your age are happily married and will soon have kids too."

"Mother," I shook my head. "I don't want you to lecture me. Hamad's already done that." I spat.

An abrupt hushed silence fell among us; all the while she looked at me, disappointedly. "Listen child," She continued, later on.  "Your brother says Zayed is a really pleasant man and he seems very interested in you. Otherwise what kind of a man would come and knock on your door, when they can easily knock your window. He is a man of honor."

"Mom, I don't want you to praise him in front of me either." I groaned and she hid a smile.

"He deserves it; or else why would I praise a man who doesn't deserve it!" She uttered, grabbing both my hands in hers.

"Yeah, right." I looked down at our hands, embarrassed.

"Then what do you want me to say?" She offered. I thought about it for a while and realized I didn't want her to say anything. I wanted her to listen to me.

"I had a dream." I announced, glancing at her. Mother straightened up a little, all at once, determined. She had talked to me before and asked me to pray Salat-al-istikharah, for God's guidance, to help me make my decision. I did as I was told.

"And what did you see?" was her question and the reason for my abashment. I was unaware of the right way to put this. I think there was no right way to put this.

"Umm, I was in our garden." I began, pointing with my left hand to the trees that were on the kitchens left. Last night's memory of Zayed standing there made me want to disappear right there. How was I going to explain my dream to mother?

She nodded, encouragingly.

"But I wasn't alone." I revealed. This made her grimace, slightly.

"He was there with you?" Mom guessed it right, sparing me the embarrassment. I nodded.

 "And?" she eagerly questioned.

"And ahhh, he didn't say anything to me and stared at the flowers around us."

"What kind of weather was it?" Her question made me frown.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I said.

"Everything, just answer the question."

"I think it was spring, there was too much greenery around us." As soon as I had finished my sentence, I witnessed mother smiling, broadly. She squeezed my hands a little and said;

"What else?" I began to explain to her the details. How I had thought Hamad was calling me and then it had been Zayed. I mentioned the garden, the light, his clothes, but I couldn't possibly define the way I felt about him in my dream. I already flushed every time I said his name in front of my mother. I hope she hadn't noticed.

"Alhamdulillah wa-alshukr lak ya Rab, (All praises be to God.)" Mother spoke, gleefully, once I was finished. "Mahra my child, that's such a nice dream." Her unexpected reaction took me by surprise.

"But he didn't speak to me." I disagreed and I was serious. It must mean something.

"Mahra, stop looking for excuses. This dream, it's such a positive sign, God has guided you. It's time you put your trust in him."

I was at a loss for words, and a bit disoriented, mentally. Mother watched as I pulled both my hands from her grip and placed them in my laps instead.

"And it also isn't nice of you to keep the Arabs waiting for a whole week. It's been four days since Umm Zayed came to visit. We must give them a reply as soon as possible. What will they think of us if we don't?"

Another moment of silence passed; which paid as a reminder of all the things that I had experienced. At first, my mother insisted me to marry her sister's son, Fahad, but I refused because I didn't want to marry in family. Then came Khalifah, who was outside my family, a nice guy, yet I let him down cause he wasn't my type, which he wasn't. But what excuse do I have now? Hamad was right. I can't find any flaws in this man. Of course he has and if I marry him I'll find out but should I marry him? Why has he even shown any interest in me? I thought he loathed me! Was I wrong?

"Ha binti, is your silence a sign of you satisfaction?" Mother asked. I felt my heartbeats picking up and a shiver ran lightly over my skin. "Shall I consider this a 'Yes'." She tilted her head to look at me. I placed my hand on my neck, it was getting hard to breath.

"Do as you wish mother." I managed to utter, she got up from her seat and framed my face, kissing my forehead. I heard her giving me her blessings all along.  She was extremely happy. I hadn't seen my mother smile like this in a long time. Glee and joy was pouring out of her.

"I will go call Hamad and give him this good news." She said, and went out of the kitchen, leaving me sit there like a clay statue. I stared off into space, not knowing what had I just done!

I don't know how long it had been when I heard my sister Reem's voice congratulating me. She hugged me tight and I managed to hug her back. She too just like mother prayed for me to be happy and have a happy life.

"Thank God you agreed on your own, or else we would've been in a lot of trouble now." She declared, taking the seat opposite me where mother sat, earlier. I looked at her, something about that sentence didn't sound right to me and gave her a questioning look.

"Hamad called your to-be husband yesterday," Reem informed and nudged my knee with her right hand as if she was teasing me, but I was too awed and curious to pay her any attention. "And he already gave him your approval."

Here, my heart sank, my eyes widened and I felt as if the earth was swept away beneath my feet. May be I hadn't heard her well. I shook my head in bewilderment and managed to mouth a; "What?"

"Oh c'mon. Now don't look so shocked. We knew you'd say 'yes' in the end. And Hamad didn't want to keep them waiting for so long."

"What do mean by don't look so shocked? Are you serious? You agreed to my marriage with this man without even waiting for my answer." I raised my voice, and slapped her hand away from my knee.

"Mahra, don't make such a big fuss about it. Hamad said he had talked to you that day and you had almost agreed."

"Almost is not completely, Reem."

"But you agreed to it now, didn't you? without anyone pressurizing you." Reem stated, calmly.

"And what if I hadn't? What would've you and your brother done then? Force me into marrying against my will." I breathed. "What kind of a girl do you think I am? Which century do you think I am from?"

"We knew you'd eventually say 'yes'."

"How can you be so sure, when I myself didn't know what I wanted till last night?" I shouted, standing up quickly and in doing so, the chair that I sat at fell backwards with a thud. Reem made to say something but I cut her;

"And don't give me that 'you-know-me-better-than-myself' crap." I spat.

"There is no need for all of this now Mahra. They're coming for the engagement on Friday." Hearing that sentence I had a horrible sinking in my heart and my cheeks reddened in anxiety. My right hand automatically clapped over my mouth.

"What do you mean?" I uttered.

"He's coming to officially ask for your hand tomorrow." Reem informed and my legs gave up on that.

"And when were you going to tell me? When they'd be sitting in our house then?" I snarled. She remained silent, guilt showing in her eyes. I ran a hand through my hair; "Is Hamad trying to kill me? Am I that much of a burden?"

 I heard Reem tsk in disagreement and stand up to walk to me but I stopped her with a hand gesture, and strode out of the kitchen as fast as I could before I broke down in front of her.

As I made for my room, I slammed all the doors that came on my way as hard as I could. Anger, anxiety, fear and sympathy for myself ran with in me. Clearly, I cried in fury. I searched for my phone once I was in my room. There was only one name that ran in my brain right now. I wanted to stay away from my family members or anyone that relates to my father. So I called my birth-mothers only brother. I called my uncle Saif.

Two warm drops of tears ran through my cheeks as I heard the phone ring on the other side. He picked up after a while and I bit my lips as I heard his voice.

 ~*♥*

♦ Źάyєď♦

Staring at the bottom of his cup, there was a vacant feeling in Zayed's heart. He sat under the shadows of the Thai sala by himself, accompanied by nothingness. Who knew, he thought, that a man like him would be constrained to marry someone! He knew he had started a risky game from the moment he talked to his father and since he learned about Mahra's reply yesterday, he's been utterly astonished.

For some reason, a lot of him was certain that Mahra wouldn't want to marry him. She didn't seem drawn to him at all, he thought. She always gave the impression that she was bothered by his presence and so was he. Her belated reply had him thinking that she might refuse, but his assumptions were proved wrong, when Hamad called on Wednesday to give him the 'good news'. The good news that he would be spending the rest of his life with a girl he didn't prefer.

At first, he couldn't comprehend what made her say 'Yes'. Then after further consideration he realized that what kind of a girl would refuse such bliss.

Backing of now would be beyond irrational, and irrational wasn't how he behaved. He gave his father and Hamad his word, and was going to keep it. He had once said to Janaan that doing things for others made you feel contented, but why wasn't he feeling that way? Is this where he ruins both his and Mahra's lives? He couldn't make her happy he knew now. But he had to try. Zayed planned to work on the relationship, knowing that it would be intensely rough. Persuading ones heart to care for someone can be quite rough!

"Having cold feet, are we?" came Badr's voice as he walked into the garden and headed to where his nephew sat. Zayed put aside his phone-where he was pretending to read an email- and looked up at his uncle. He smiled at him genuinely. "What are you doing here alone?" Badr asked, taking the seat beside him.

"Just, breathing in some fresh air."

"You've been breathing a lot of fresh air these days," Badr joked making his nephew grin. "Don't over think stuff, it leads to confusion." He advised. Zayed took a sip of the cup of tea that was in front of him.

"I was merely thinking, haven't reached the level of over-thinking yet." He replied, his grin widening.

"Good, have you seen your father today?" He questioned.

"Umm-hmm," Zayed nods. "Saw him on my way here." He took another sip of his tea.

"I haven't seen him this happy since," Badr paused. "Since my wedding, I think."

"Yeah, I have noticed that too." Zayed uttered. A hint of satisfaction rose in his heart.

"And what about you?"

"What about me?" Zayed said, placing his cup on the table.

"How are you feeling? Are you happy?" Badr investigated.

"How do I look?" retorted Zayed, sitting straight in his chair. He tried to dodge his questions.

"You look depressed." Replied Badr, playfully.

"Then why do you ask?"

"Just wanted to sprinkle some salt on your wounds!" Badr made fun and they both laughed. Once they recovered, Zayed sighed.

"I wish I have made the right decision." He declared.

"Marriage is not a decision; it's a risk we all take without knowing the results. Sometimes two most suitable people don't have a successful relationship, whereas at times two odd people can live together for a life time."

Zayed was going to reply when they both were interrupted by Deemah, who came to check on them and see if they were ready to go to the bride's house for the engagement. This was the first function and for men only. All the men from the grooms family would visit the bride's family, where they host a dinner and the groom formally asks for the bride's hand in marriage from her father or the eldest man in the family, and in this case from Hamad. After the both families have agreed, then the engagement ceremony takes place.

Since this function is for men only, so the bride and groom would not be exchanging rings, or so much as see each other. That's how Umm Zayed wanted it to be.

"Your mother says it's late. You should get ready." She told Zayed and came to pick up the empty cup that was in front of him.

"We were just getting up," Zayed lied, standing up, so did Badr. They all got out of the Sala.

"What time is it?" questioned Badr, walking towards his wife.

"It's four o'clock, you should get ready too. Your clothes are in the room." She informed her husband, who walked towards the door with her. Badr turned sideways to look at Zayed, and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Don't forget what I told you." He reminded, making Zayed nod.

~*♥*

Half an hour later, Zayed was in his room, trying to bring his heart and mind around and induce them into feeling the happiness of a man on his engagement day. But no fire burned in his heart, no pleasure blazed in his eyes. It was as if all high-spirits had dimmed or died.

A not-so-soft knock on the door seized him out of his world and brought him to reality. He invited the visitor in and wasn't surprised to see his younger brother Jassim, smiling ear-to-ear at him.

"Hala bilma'ras, (Hello to the groom)" He teased, mischievously. Zayed smiled back at him and turned to insert a cufflink in the button holes of his left sleeve.

"Hala Jassom." He replied.

"Looking handsome, brother." Jassim complimented, walking in. "Though I think the ones you intended to impress have already been impressed." He referred to Mahra and at this Zayed abruptly looked at him through his eyelashes. "Don't torture them any further." Jassim added with a grin and in return received a venomous glare from his brother. Zayed ignored him and took the other cufflink from the dressing table, adjusting it in his right sleeve.

"Where's Mona, I told her five minutes ago to bring me the mabkharah." Zayed complained and right that moment Mona entered the room, carrying with her the mabkharah, in which the bukhoor was burning.

(Bukhoor are scented chips that are burned in incense burners to perfume the home and clothing with a rich thick smoke. Arabs use this specifically on special occasions like weddings or on Fridays or generally just to perfume the house. The bukhoor is usually burned in a mabkhara, a traditional incense burner.)

"I am really sorry, Habibi. Mom asked me to decorate the sweets." She apologized and came to perfume Zayed's clothes. Meanwhile Jassim stood looking at himself in the mirror.

"Looking this good should be illegal." He muttered to himself, grabbing the edges of his safra (Turban) and throwing them behind his shoulders. "Does Hamad have any other sisters?" He asked, looking at himself in the mirror.

"No," Mona quickly replied. Her eyes met Zayed's and she looked down. "Why?" She directed her question to Jassim.

"Was thinking if there's someone I could impress, just like your brother here." Jassim said to Mona and winked.

"Try you may but you will never succeed." Mona ridiculed. "First of all, you don't have the personality and secondly you're too short, bro." She completed, glancing at Zayed who smiled back at her.

"Yeah and that's why I am chased around by all the girls in college." Jassim defended, picking up a perfume from the dressing table, randomly. Zayed noticed the one he had selected didn't have a strong scent.

"Jasoom, take the golden one. The Ŋ◦5, it smells better." He told Jassim, who put down the perfume in his hand and trusted his brother's choice.

Umm Zayed then set foot into the room as well, with a glowing smile on her face. But Zayed couldn't see her clearly because Mona was holding the mabkhara near his face, so that the smoke would perfume his clothes and turban. When he heard the voice of his mother and her prayers; "Move it Mona, you're choking me." He complained and Mona immediately reacted, with a nervous giggle.

"Sorry," She apologized and turned to her mother who sent her to perfume her father's clothes.

"Mother I told Laylah to take out my camera from my room, did she do that?" Jassim asked.

"I don't know if she has. Go look for it yourself; your sister has been busy." Umm Zayed replied.

"Where is she?"

"With your father," At her words Jassim made to get out of there. "And ask Kholoud to take it out. Laylah is busy with your father." She shouted after him and closed the door as he left the room. She then turned to her son, who looked at her and tried to smile. Umm Zayed walked to where he stood, near the bed and sat down on it.

"Haa ya Umm Zayed, (So Zayed's mother) are you happy on your son's engagement?" Zayed began, attempting to look amused. His mother's smile widened at this and she continued praying for him.

"May Allah make you as happy as you have made your father and I. May he send his blessings upon you always and forever and may he guide you to the right path, my child, for you have made your parents the happiest today." Her words were like water to a thirsty desert, they made him smile. Zayed bent down a little and kissed her forehead.

"Yalla Alhamdulillah, that you are happy." If not his contentment than theirs, he thought, trying to entertain himself. He straightened himself.

"Zayed," Umm Zayed began searching for his attention. The son turned to the mother with conceded eyes.

"Yes."

"Are you sure you don't want to meet the girl before your engagement?" She put forward. Her unexpected question took Zayed off guard. He had been gazing at her, but then he quietly withdrew his eyes from hers, very politely.

"No mother," He spoke, avoiding her gaze and walked towards the bedside table to collect his phones and wallet. "There's no need for that. I have already seen her." 

 A klutzy silence lingered around for a short while; "Besides," Zayed added, and turned to his mother who still looked at him. "It'll also help lessen the embarrassment for her." He stated, and Umm Zayed nodded, without replying.

Soon after, Umm Zayed exhaled, getting up. "Let's go then. Your father must be waiting."

 ~*♥*

As both the mother and son got down, they saw no one there in the living room, downstairs. Umm Zayed suggested they must've gone in the Maylis and that Zayed follows them, which was what he did. As Zayed opened the entrance door, he saw everyone standing next to their cars and preparing to leave. Waleed looked at his son with warm eyes and a cordial smile. In the midst of their laughter, Zayed walked up to him and as is the custom, he kissed his father's head in respect and courtesy.

Badr threw a friendly joke at Zayed, making everybody laugh. Almost all of the guests included closest of family and friends. They had gathered around to celebrate the occasion with Zayed's family.

"Yalla nitwakkal ala Allah (C'mon let's delegate this affair to Allah)" said Waleed and everybody rushed to their cars, excitedly.

"Zayed are you coming with us?" Badr asked, with a questioning look. Zayed plunged a hand in his pocket for his car keys and shook his head.

"No, I am coming on my own." He said, and watched his father accompany Badr. Zayed's other uncles and cousins settled in their property. Jassim walked to his car with his best friend, Khalid, following him.  

"Are you sure you'll be there on time? Won't you ditch us and take another turn on your way?" said Rashid's voice. Zayed slid a glance sideways studying his cousin. His lips twitched into a half smile at his friend's effort of amusement. "Don't make us go to the bride's house without a groom." Rashid ridiculed.

"Don't worry friend," said Zayed, smiling. "I'll try not to disgrace you."

"Yeah, you better." Rashid replied, amusingly and strolled away. Zayed got in his car as well, and one by one they all left the house, everyone following Badr's car.  

It wasn't long since they left when his mind wandered around different things. As the small army of their family stopped at a red signal, Zayed tightened his grip at the steering wheel. He felt his finger tips getting slightly cold. What was it that he felt? He didn't know.

It might be the unnatural nervousness that everybody talks about. He felt an acute uneasiness or apprehension all of a sudden. It might also be fear from the unknown future. But Zayed wasn't afraid of darkness or getting lost, he just feared he might halt half-way through his journey.

Life had taught him that questions abound in the middle of things, and here he was in the middle of his affairs. He had made a decision and was working on it but will it turn out right for him? Or will he doom two lives with one arrow?

The night had wobbled, when he came back to reality. They now stood in front of Hamad's house and his family members were getting out. It had been the first time in his life when he reached to Hamad's place so quickly. At first he didn't move, simply stared at Jassim and his friend- who had parked in front of him- laugh at something.

He turned to the house and sighed, remembering why he was here. As is his habit, Zayed yet again, stretched his hand to the passenger side seat footwell and opened the glove box, where he normally places his perfumes. He searched for his perfume and in doing so, he found something that he shouldn't have seen, at least not now!

It was the book Janaan had given him when she first came here. She had thought of him at the airport and bought him something that she reckoned he'd like. Seeing the book brought various memories back, some of which were hard to forget. Zayed randomly skimmed through the book and at the very first page he found her name elegantly scripted there.

From Janaan

He read and waited as the words stored deeper in his brain and heart. He remembered the sweetness of the time spent with her and the cruelty of the moments after her. He remembered her eyes and the memory itself tightened his heart, persuading him to strive to erase her from his head. He couldn't carry her picture in his heart when he was about to get engaged to somebody else.

So, instead of refracting, Zayed threw the book back in the glove box and ordered his heart to be as neutral as if it weren't his.

~*♥*~*♥*~*♥*~*♥*

That's it for now. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. We don't normally get a lot of free time to write just the weekends, so we sat till 5:00 in the morning writing this chap last night, just cause we had told some of you that we'll post today. Love you all for all the support. God Bless.

~*'♥ Lot's of love from the witers

~Witty & Witch