Chapter sixteen

                                                     “Persuasion”

                                          قُلْ لي – ولو كذباً – كلاماً ناعماً قد كادً يقتُلُني بك التمثالُ

Zayed

Friday, 12:50 PM

“Salaam Alaikum,” Zayed greeted as he entered the house, coming back from the mosque where he performed his Friday prayer. Umm Zayed, his sister Laylah and his aunt Deema- Badr’s wife, sat there talking. They all looked up at his approach and returned his greetings, smiling as they did.

“Taqabbal Allah,” The women said in unision.

“Minna-wa-Minkum.” replied Zayed, tucking his car keys in his pocket. “Umaya (mother) what’s there for lunch?” He asked looking at his mother.

“Everything Habibi, (dear)” Umm Zayed stood up to ask the maids to serve lunch. “Where are your father and Badr?”

“Father saw his friend Uncle Mohammed in the mosque, who invited them over for lunch.” Zayed informed.

“Why didn’t you join them?” His mother wondered, but just by looking at her sons face she understood why. He seemed a little off these days. She nodded with no further questions and headed to the kitchen.

“They’ll miss my cooking, then.” came Deema’s voice. Zayed turned to her, smiling.

“You’ve cooked today, Deema?” He tried to sound enthusiastic, not addressing Deema as ‘Aunty’. She was too young to own that title.

“Yeah, your uncle told me that you missed my cooking.” She jeered. ‘That was true’ thought Zayed, but he’d never say it in front of his mother to not hurt her feelings. When in America he adored the food Deema cooked.

“I am starving, could you serve it then?” Zayed requested, and didn’t receive a response from them but there was some moment in the living room suggesting they’d gotten up. He had walked out of the living room and turned left to head to the guest room where he heard some voices. “Where’s Jassim by the way?” He called.

“In his room, he came back early.” Laylah shouted back.

Holding that thought in his mind, he entered the guest room where the twins and Mona were seated. They all were laughing at something that Khawlah said. “I swear our teachers are so stupid.” She made fun. Zayed walked up to them, smiling.

“Who’s so stupid?” He asked, grabbing their attention. He crouched down a little and kissed Khawlah on her forehead.

“Our history teacher, she’s like a hundred years old.” Khawlah said, grinning. “I have told her a million times that my name is Khawlah but she still calls me Kholoud. I mean can’t she see that I am prettier than my twin.” Her comment made Zayed laugh.

“Oh please, I am taller than you.” Kholoud retorted as she stood up to hug her uncle. Zayed kissed her forehead as well and sat down beside her. “And don’t forget uncle Zayed likes me more than he likes you.” The young girl said, laughing.

Khawlah, on the other hand, frowned at that because she hated how her twin won every argument claiming that Zayed loved her more. Zayed noticed the change in her mood.

 “Whoever will bring me a glass of water, will be my favorite.” Zayed put forward and beamed as he saw them both jump up and run to the kitchen. They couldn’t go far because at the door of the kitchen they bumped into Umm Zayed, who started scolding and chastising them for playing around.

Jassim and Umm Zayed both came into the guestroom, and she still murmured something under her breath. “Allah Yahdee halbanaat, (May God guide these girls.)” She prayed as she spotted both Zayed and Mona.  “Lunch is ready.” She informed, “Yalla Habaybi Yalla.”

Zayed and Mona got up and Jassim put a hand around his upset mother’s shoulder, squeezing her. “What’s made you so furious, woman?” Jassim asked kissing his mother’s hand and she set about to complain about her maids.

“You guys should look at mom when she talks to her new maid,” Jassim gibed, referring to one of their maids who couldn’t speak Arabic. “They both speak in sign language and mom’s pretty good at it.” He joked, winking at Mona, who giggled at her younger brother’s words as they all left for the dining room. Zayed, too, smiled but it faded when his eyes fell upon the car keys that Jassim played with. “Where to?” He questioned his younger brother.

“Going out with my friends,” Jassim turned to face him. “We have made plans for today.” He confided, pushing back his hair.

Zayed gazed at him for awhile, determined to inquire about a bunch of guys he had seen, who stood in front of their house fifteen minutes ago. He guessed they were his friends but there was something about that group of young men that he didn’t like. He’d seen a couple of them smoking and to him they looked somewhat troublesome. But he didn’t mention them in front of his mother.

“What about lunch?” Umm Zayed asked.

“We’ll eat on our way.”

“No, call your friends in the Maylis and have lunch here.” Zayed suggested. Jassim growled and was about to argue when; “It’s not amiable of you to let the men go without lunch, not when they are waiting for you outside your house on Friday.”

“Jassim,” Umm Zayed joined in, “Call them in and I’ll tell the servants to serve lunch in the maylis. No one can leave my house without having eaten anything, especially on Friday.” She ordered, and walked again to the kitchen.

Defeated, Jassim took out his phone from his pocket and looked up at Zayed; “Will you join us?” He asked. In that instant, Kholoud came and stood next to her uncle with a glass of water in her hand. Zayed looked at her and smiled; “No, I’ll be eating here with family.” He answered Jassim’s question and took the glass of water from his niece.

**

After having lunch, Zayed left to change and leave for the farm, where he was to meet one of his friends, Wael. He opened the door and like always emptied his pockets, placing his car keys, wallet and phones on the dressing table. When he was about to set them down, he saw an unread message in one of his phones. “Janaan” it read, which made Zayed frown.

“Can we meet up for dinner?”

Was Janaan’s simple question but unfortunately the answer to that simple question was quite complicated. Zayed stared at it for a good while and then grimaced, throwing his phone at his bed, without replying.

Since it was Friday, customarily, he was dressed up in traditional Emirati clothes, but he strived to feel at ease in the farm so he headed to the wardrobe and picked up some casual clothes for him; a black t-shirt with a pair of khaki Bermuda shorts that fell below his knees.

Once he came down, he saw his mother and Laylah gathered to have Arabic coffee. “Where’s everyone?” He inquired, looking around, searching for any sign or sound of his nieces.

“Mona took Deema and the girls to Dubai Mall.” Laylah informed. “Where are you going?”

“To the farm, I have to see one of my friends there at around 4:00.” Zayed answered, glancing at his watch.

“It’s still early,” Umm Zayed began. “Come have some coffee with us.” She offered. Zayed couldn’t refuse and went to sit by his mother. As he settled down, Laylah made the excuse of bringing some more dates, even though they already had some. When she departed, Zayed presumed that this was an important cup of coffee with his mother, alone.

“Your father’s late. He has to take his medicine.” She conceded, pouring Zayed some coffee.

“Don’t worry Badr is with him.” Zayed consoled, reading the stress all over her face. “They’ll be back soon.” and took the coffee that his mother handed him. While Zayed drank his coffee, he observed her considering something which she couldn’t easily put into words. She then turned to him.

“Your father has asked me to go and ask for the hand of late Ali’s daughter for you,” She asserted, coming directly to the point. “Are you aware of this?” She inspected his eyes but he stole his gaze from her and focused at the coffee cup instead.

“Yes,” Zayed nodded, slightly.

 “So said your father,” Umm Zayed stated. “Well then, you and your father seem to have made your decision!”

Zayed looked up at his mother as her last sentence registered; “And what do you think about our decision?” Zayed tested, trying to act normal. “Your opinion matters to me.” This made his mother smile.

“I have known about your father’s intentions from a long time now. He has been very expressive of his adoration for Mahra.” She carried out. Zayed knit his eyebrows because this wasn’t the answer to his question. “As for me, I always thought I’d be okay with whatever choice you have. Either it is someone of your choice,” Zayed knew she meant Janaan. “Or any other girl from family,” And that meant Shoug. 

“But both your father and you have chosen Mahra, who seems to be a good girl. She’s beautiful, educated and comes from and good family.” Umm Zayed now looked up to see what reaction her son would have and he had none. His face was expressionless and his eyes were empty. She stared at him for a long while and then gave a sly smile.

“You know son, I have always admired your secretive personality but sometimes it unendurable.”  She declared, making Zayed arch an eyebrow. “You have the talent of obscuring your real feelings, enormously, so much so that sometimes even the closest to you can’t get you.” She explained.

“Is that a bad thing?” Zayed interrogated.

“Ask yourself,”

Zayed shook his head, disturbed. “I don’t know where you’re going with this, mother.” He lied, because he knew exactly what she meant. He and his mother shared a deeper understanding than that.

“I don’t want you to do something just for your father or my sake.” Zayed wished it was that simple. It wasn’t just because of his father; Zayed was doing all of it for his own sister too. “If you want me to talk to your father, I can.” Umm Zayed offered.

“No mother,” Zayed began, putting his cup aside. “I am not doing anything for anyone’s sake. It is my decision and mine only. As a matter of fact, I talked to my friend Hamad the other day. He was rather pleased when I asked for his sister’s hand in marriage.” This silenced Umm Zayed, surely she hadn’t heard about this from her husband.

“And about Mahra,” Zayed paused, an unusual feeling took over him when he said her name. He wasn’t used to of saying it. Too many images of her rushed before his eyes, the first time when he had seen her, mourning over her car. He had offered his help but she refused. The second time it had been he who refused her the promotion. The way she had burst out on the man who had bumped her car. He also recalled her features when he noticed them in the elevator. And the only place he remembered her manners from was when she came to visit his father at the hospital. He had encountered an entire different person.

“She’s different than any other woman I have ever met.” He spoke the truth. “I have known her for quite a while now and I think she’s very...” He thought of the right word to describe her to his mother. “Agreeable.” He finally added.

“Agreeable?” came Laylah’s voice as she emerged from behind the wall where she was hidden, listening to their conversation. “Agreeable?” She repeated, looking at Zayed playfully. Zayed plastered a smile on his face so that his mother would see; “You were eavesdropping, weren’t you?” he asked.

“Of course I was,” Laylah shrugged her shoulders. “This warm conversation attracted me.”

Zayed glanced at his mother, who still looked serious and then addressed his sister; “Since you’ve heard everything. Tell me, what do you have to say about my decision?” He watched as his sister came and sat on the other side of his mother, facing him. She waited before replying.

“I haven’t seen Mahra,” She admitted, “But I have heard a lot about her and don’t worry it isn’t anything bad.” Laylah smiled. “I am going with mother to see her, today, and if there is any particular detail that you would want me to notice you can ask now, like the color of her hair or anything like that.” She teased.

For some odd reason Zayed remembered her brown hair that he had accidently seen when he first saw her. He didn’t say anything to his sister and faced his mother instead; “You are going today?” He asked and saw his mother nod.

Zayed remained silent not having the right words to say. Soon after, his phone buzzed and he caught sight of Janaan’s name at the screen again. Not bothering to reply, he stuffed his phone in his pocket again.

~*♥*

Mahra

Seven years ago

A bunch of high school girls, coming back from a trip with their classmates, are most likely to be extremely enthusiastic. That’s how most of my friends were that day, when our school had taken us for a trip to the Dubai international airport. The school bus that dropped the student’s home had become very chaotic. Two teachers accompanying us, sat at the front seats and stole glances at the students every now and then, but things had gotten out of control.

Our bus had turned into a concert for some girls, a dancing stage for some other or a wrestling ring for the aggressive ones. The nerds and the sensible ones sat in the middle and as is known, the loud girls like myself, were at the very end of the bus.

I remember it like it was yesterday, when my cousin Sara started singing a song and two of our friends stood up to dance. Me and Maryam, another friend from high school, clapped and encouraged them to carry on the show. We were the lively girls and I miss those times. It’s cruel to grow up, because you realize how boring you are now and how naïve you were then. Don’t know which one is more painful!

The bus stopped somewhere and our dancing friends stumbled back and forth. One of them grabbed the seat next to the window to support herself and as her eyes saw the world outside; “Ya Rabiiiii (Oh my God)” Aisha screamed, we all turned to look at where she was staring and I frowned at what I was encountering.

There standing in front of our house were three boys, my brother Hamad and his two irritating and vain friends. The one that I hated the most, Rashid, stood leaning back at his car with his hands in his pockets and he had his headphones on, whereas Hamad and Zayed were both deeply conversing with each other.

All three of them were in their early twenties, which drove my teenage friend’s nuts. They all jumped next to Aisha, and began admiring the guys.

“Which one is your brother Mahra?” asked Maryam. I hated that about my friends. They always forgot their manners in situations like these. I didn’t want them to know which one Hamad was, so that one of them would ask me to introduce her to him. They wouldn’t really be serious, but that was one way of having fun. Although I didn’t want them to have fun with or anywhere near my brother!

Unfortunately, Sara at seventeen wasn’t as bright as she is now, she got excited and pointed towards her right where Hamad stood, who unlike his other two companions wore a white kandoorah (Traditional Emirati clothes).

“Wow,” praised Aisha, and opened the window. As she did so, all the girls started peeking from there, making great fools of themselves. And obviously, they received some reaction from the boys as well. Rashid, the one leaning at the car, now straightened up and took off his headphones, while smiling at my friends.

“Nice car.” Maryam dared to speak, which made Rashid grin.

“Thanks, would you like to have a ride?” The jerk replied, making my girlfriends giggle. If anyone of the teachers heard her they would definitely tell our school principal. I turned to look at Hamad and was surprised to see him smiling at the girls too. What did he think he was doing? I was so going to tell dad.

“Who’s the tall one?” asked one of the girls and I averted my eyes from Hamad to his dear arrogant friend, Zayed. He wasn’t looking at us but at his phone which was in his hand, instead. I couldn’t see his face because it was hidden under his grey hood.

“None of your concern!” I spat, not knowing why her words made me snap. I took my stuff and headed backwards to the bus door, so I could still look at what the girls were doing. I was damn sure if the teachers weren’t there, they’d ask me to introduce them.

“Oh Mahra, you’re so lucky.” Aisha said, glancing at me.

“Oh please girls. Get some standard.” I remarked, and caught hold of the grab rail near the bus door for support. The door opened and I descended the two stairs rather angrily. The wind caused my bangs and scarf to blow, annoying me. I tightened my grip on my scarf and threw my bag on my left shoulder.

A little miffed, I made for my house and in doing so, I felt a couple of eyes on me. Curious I now turned and saw the ‘tall one’ looking at me.

Personally, I can never forget Zayed’s vacant stare and that uncomfortable feeling that took over me then. They were an empty pair of brown eyes, yet very observant. His gaze was a silent tale that could easily break or mend you! I was utterly sure that there was nothing in me that he had missed, he noticed everything. Those bright eyes noticed everything.

 ~*♥*

**Back to the present**

Monday- 2:30 AM

I flipped again to the other side, unable to sleep from the past two days, ever since Umm Zayed had paid my mother that friendly visit. My mind wouldn’t clear off and would constantly go back to him. I couldn’t comprehend how all of this was happening so suddenly. I never thought anyone could put our names in one sentence and now fate has placed our lives in one path.

I tried to close my eyes and go to sleep again but I lay there thinking instead. My thoughts went back to Zayed again and again until finally, I fell asleep and woke up two hours later at the voice of the call for Fajr prayer.

Mad at having such little sleep, I sat up, threw the blanket away and pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear, roughly. After performing my prayer, I intended to go for a walk, and breathe in some fresh air. I grabbed a shawl and gathered my hair in a ponytail. Walking out of my room I noticed that everyone seemed to be asleep upstairs because of the deadly silence that was spread there. And as I descended the stairs I heard some noise coming from mother’s room. Of course she was up!

Not wanting to encounter anyone, I slowly tried to open the entrance door and stepped out into the foggy morning air. The weather was extremely cold, I got goose bumps all over me and despite the chilly wind I smiled ‘cause I craved for that feeling.

God, I wish my life was as pleasant as this beautiful morning. But mornings are God’s creation they are meant to be perfect whereas our problems are what we create and they ought to be intolerable.

My sister came to me yesterday, claiming she’d help me solve some of those problems. When I told her that I couldn’t sleep and that I didn’t know what was wrong with me. She said it isn’t necessary that every feeling should have a meaning; In fact the most beautiful feelings are those that don’t have an explanation.

Her words had maddened me then and it had an even worse effect on me now.  Was it true? Was everything I felt beautiful? I was confused.

Our lawn was getting brighter gradually as the sun rose higher. I took off my flip-flops and tried walking barefoot. I loved the feel of the fresh dew on the grass through my toes. They were moisturized and frozen as I kept pacing back and forth in the garden and thinking.

After awhile, my feet went numb; barely feeling anything on their way. I spotted the garden table and chairs and sat on the nearest one. Suddenly, I frowned, ashamed. I remembered all my embarrassing moments with him, with Zayed. From the very first time I saw him till the last meeting in the elevator. All of my actions were nothing but humiliating. I never gave my behavior much thought in front of him. In reality, I never really cared what impression I would set on him.

Then what was is it that sent my boss my way? What was it that led him to me?!  I thought, tightening my grip on my shawl and rubbing my upper arms to keep them warm. I finally remembered that I already had a cold and shouldn’t be out in such weather. I got up and headed for my painting room that was behind the house building.

I entered and turned on the lights, there in front of me was one of my paintings that I had made for Sara and intended to give it to her as a gift; now that she has returned from her honeymoon. Oh I missed her and I knew I was selfish in doing so. Because I needed to break in front of someone and I knew that that someone would only be her.

I spent most of my morning there. This place was my escape from everything else. I stayed there till 8:30 AM hoping Hamad would go to work and I wouldn’t get to see him. I hadn’t talked to him since Friday because he had betrayed me. And here I was thinking I would emotionally blackmail him.

But unfortunately, when I finally decided to go in, he was still in the house.

“Mahra,” My mom called as I entered. She was surprised to see me. “I thought you were in your room, still sleeping.” Mother examined me from head to toe, and grimaced. I tried to ignore Hamad who sat next to her in the living room, he too was looking at me, curiously.

“Yeah, I..” I trailed off. “I went to complete Sara’s gift.” I said, looking down at the painting I carried with me. I didn’t want to tell them I couldn’t sleep, surely they’ll think I stay up thinking about Zayed.

“So early in the morning?” She asked. I remained silent and avoided their gazes. “Come have breakfast with your brother, come.” She invited noticing my mood and now she would try to cosset me. Predictable! “You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. How’s your cold?” She tried to converse with me.

I nodded slightly and didn’t give her a detailed reply. She called me again pouring some tea for me in a cup. I made an effort to get easily away from them but she kept on insisting and in the end asked me to show her the painting that I had made. I realized there was no escaping this. So I walked up and sat next to her, as far away from Hamad as possible.

I uncovered it for her and she praised it more than she normally does my other paintings. Even Hamad set his newspaper aside and said; “Let me see.” I wouldn’t show it to him if not for mother, but hopelessly I did.

“Oh yeah, Sara and her husband are back, aren’t they?” He asked, while looking at my painting. I turned away from him and stared at the TV instead. Suddenly, the morning news seemed a lot more interesting.

“Yes, they are. I am planning to invite them for dinner this week.” Mother informed, handing me the cup of tea. I didn’t want to eat anything but I had to take it from her hand and couldn’t deny her.

She and Hamad talked more about the dinner and decided they’d set it tomorrow. They discussed who will they invite and what type of food Hamad was to order. I wasn’t interfering in their conversation and my mother couldn’t decide on her own, she knew how stubborn I was and I wasn’t going to give her my opinion. I wanted them to feel how angry I was. In the end she was forced to go talk to Reem who was probably still asleep.

 Hamad and I were both seated in the bitter silence, which was most likely annoying for me but he didn’t seem to care, sipping his cup of tea as calmly as possible. In few minutes I decided to leave but before I could;

“Mahra,” Began my older brother, making me turn towards him and as I did I saw him handing me the remote. I arched an eyebrow. “Here, take the remote and raise the volume a bit so that you’ll hear the news.” He said, with a light smile. I rolled my eyes and turned back to the screen, watching but not hearing the news.

“What’s wrong?” I heard him say and gave him another of my famous venomous glares. As if he didn’t know what was wrong with me.

“You tell me, Hamad.” I retorted. “You seem to know everything these days.” He looked at me, closely, with a deep frown on his face.

“Aside from what’s on your mind right now,” He stated. “I can’t compete with your incredible wits.”

“Stop that, you manipulative traitor.” I raised my voice. Hamad peered at me at first, a little astonished at my sudden outburst.

“Weigh your words before you speak, Mahra.” He said to me, calmly. “You might regret them afterwards.”

“Not this time. I was right about you last time. You are nothing but a deceiver.”

“What have I done to you? You fool.” He spoke, frowning. “What’s gotten into you early in the morning.”

“You played me,” I said, as tears threatened to gush in my eyes. “I now get your dirty games. You made me promise you some stupid deal and then you go and beg your friend to marry your twenty four year old sister because she’s a burden on your weak and responsible shoulders.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He hissed.

“Haven’t you tried to fix me up with your friend?”

“I have done no such thing.”

“You liar,” I breathed, tears began to stream down my face. “I have known that man from months now and never have we ever talked if it wasn’t about work. There is no way on earth he would make such a move without any encouragement.” I sputtered.

I didn’t realize when I had gotten up from my seat and now stood face-to-face with Hamad. It took him sometime to register my words and after awhile he stood up as well, placing both his hands on his waist, he huffed.

“And you think I have encouraged him?”

“I know you have.” This made Hamad smirk.

“And let’s for arguments sake say; that I have. What’s so wrong in the matter? Point out one flaw in him and I will give up on the matter myself.” I hated his confidence when he spoke about his adorable friend.

“You’re blindfolded and you don’t notice but he is very proud.”

“And is there any man on the face of this earth who is good enough to you, Mahra.” I glared at him and remained silent. “Fahad, who you grew up with, was rejected because he wasn’t your type and Khalifah because he liked you. What reason is that?”

“It’s my life and I’ll live it the way I want to.” I said, cleaning my tears with the back of my hand.

“Stop acting like a child.” He snarled, irritated.

“Then stop treating me like one.” I cried.

“His pride, his pride, your reasoning too is immature.” He exclaimed. “You said it yourself that you don’t know the man then how are you to judge?”

I didn’t know what to say to him which bothered me. My silence could put me through crises.

“And for your information,” He looked straight in my eyes. “I wasn’t raised as a man to stoop that low,” he pointed at himself. “I never begged him to do anything. On the contrary, the man came to me himself asking for your hand, claiming that it was what he and his father wanted.” He then turned away from me with a disappointed look on his face. “But seeing your reaction, I think you don’t deserve such respect.”

I went completely rigid, hearing my brother’s last few sentences, unable to stomach the thought of being wanted by my boss. My heart sank deeper and my breathing quickened. I knew I cried when I was angry but today I cried because I was surprised.

I sniffed as warm tears ran through my cheeks. Seconds later, I felt a couple of hands wrap me in their grip, tightly. Hamad whispered his apologies in my ear and kissed my head. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I didn’t like him apologizing to me, I don’t know whose fault it really was but it wasn’t his.

“Zayed is a really good man, you will be very happy with him.” He assured, making me sob as he stroked my hair gently. “Isn’t he? Have you heard something blemish about him?” He questioned. I wasn’t able to reply so he pulled away a little and placed his hand on my chin, making me look at him.

When we stared in each other’s eyes, he seemed concerned; “Have you?” He repeated his question. I escaped his eyes and shook my head as a reply which helped him breathe again.

“He is a great guy, Mahra, I guarantee you of that. I have known him ever since we were young and could never wish for a better life-partner for you.” He explained, removing the tears from my face with his thumb fingers.

“So what do you think?” He asked, as I recovered a little. “Hmm?” He searched for my eyes.

“I need sometime,” I managed to whisper. He removed his hands from my face, pulled away a little and took a step back.

He nodded.

~*♥*

A long chapter, the small details we put there were requested from some fans. They wanted to see more of our culture. We hope you liked it and Thanks for reading the last chpaters. Don't forget to hold your breaths for the next chapter!

Check out the song and the pic on the side. They go perfectly with the chapter;)

Thank you all very much:)

~*'♥ Lot's of love from the witers

~Witty & Witch