CHAPTER FOUR
1068 Words
"So be patient. Verily, the promise of Allah is true."
-Qur'an, 30:60.
***
RING RING . . .
With a groan, I open my eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. I find Rohaan's arm on my stomach and quickly shove it off of me.
Disgusting man.
The pillows that Rohaan oh-so-sweetly placed between us, are now scattered around.
Finally, I pick up my phone from the side table and see that Wali is calling me. I pick it up, praying everything's okay.
We share Islamic greetings.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"Sorry to wake you up this early, but there's an emergency."
Panic engulfs me like a thick blanket.
"What emergency?"
"Ayra, we never thought about . . . you know . . . how Maha will have milk now that you're gone." He finishes uncomfortably.
My eyes are now wide open. s**t! I really didn't think about this matter! I'm such a nice mother! But between my wedding and, well, my wedding, my mind wasn’t working.
"So, what now?" I ask.
"You need to come here. She's been crying." He counters, sounding flustered.
"Umm . . . okay. I'll come. Till later. Salaam (peace)." I hang up quickly.
I look at Rohaan, who's sleeping peacefully while I'm dying over here. That little . . . relax Ayra. You need to be nice to him so that he lets you go.
I try to wake him up by calling his name. Several times. But he doesn't move an inch. So, I reach out and touch his shoulder. That too, several times. He STILL doesn't wake up!
I smack his chest as hard as I can–my baby hand is dead– and his eyes fly open. He looks a bit weird at first. But when he looks at me he . . . relaxes?
Suddenly he barks throatily, "What the hell, Ayra!?"
Be nice. Be nice. Be nice. I keep saying that over and over again in my head.
"I need to go to my parent's house." I try to talk softly but with this guy, IT'S IMPOSSIBLE.
He looks at me, annoyance etched across his annoyingly flawless face.
"That's why you woke me up!? If you want to go somewhere then go! I. Don't. Give. A. Damn."
I try to control the anger that's rising with every word he says.
"I'm not asking for your permission! But we just got married. Your parents will expect me to be downstairs with them for breakfast. Right now, it's six. When do you usually have breakfast?"
He replies with a short, "Eleven."
"Alright, I'll be back by nine or ten." I say and jump out of bed.
When I'm all dressed up and ready to leave, Rohaan scrutinises me.
"What happened anyway?"
Oh God! What do I say?
"Uh . . . my brother. Yes! My brother . . . he's uh . . . very sick!" I speak falteringly.
My heart pounds. I never lie.
"What are you, a doctor?" He asks, clearly not believing a word I said.
"He's my brother and he needs me. Bye!"
With that I run out of the room.
***
I look at my baby girl, resting in my arms. Sleeping peacefully. I've been holding her for about an hour. I know that I'll have to leave sooner or later.
If this is the only reason I get to see my daughter every day, then so be it. I just have to find a way to tell Rohaan that he has a daughter. I don't want to, but eventually I know that I'll have to.
***
At exactly 10 a.m., I step into my bedroom. And the love of my life is sitting on the bed. It looks like he was waiting for me.
He's clad in a black, cotton shirt and Adidas sweatpants. And of course, no shoes. Still he manages to look so . . . No. Let’s not go there. The fact that he always looks good adds fuel to my anger. Cut that, it’s at the top of my list of ‘THINGS THAT ROHAAN DOES THAT ANNOY ME.’
"Took you long enough." He says without even looking at me.
"Yeah." I say on an eye roll.
Suddenly, he's in front of me.
"Tell me where you were. I want the truth this time." He says in a low voice, eyes narrowed.
"I told you I was going to my parent's house." I reply with equal ferocity.
"I SAID I WANT THE TRUTH!" He barks penetratingly, hands now encircling my forearms.
"I can't tell you."
"Who's the guy?" He asks gravelly.
I stand there confused.
"What do you mean?"
"Who's the guy you met!?"
My nostrils flare at the blatant implication.
"There is no guy!" I throw my hands up in the air in exasperation. "Never mind, you won't believe me. Think whatever you want. I'm going to get changed."
I swerve across him.
Rohaan grabs my hand from behind and pulls me towards him. It’s like one of those scenes from a Korean show.
Nah, I still don't feel anything.
"Tell me what's special in him that I don't have?" He asks breathlessly in my ear.
I ignore the egoistical question.
I heave a sigh, free myself out of his hold and turn around to face him.
"Halal (something that is permissible in traditional Islamic law) and Haram (something that is forbidden in traditional Islamic law) don't go together. What we did was Haram. How can we make it Halal now? Huh?"
"If you regret it so much then you shouldn't have thrown yourself on me." He speaks stridently.
"You don't regret it? You don't regret committing such a grave sin?" I ask, heat bursting through my ears as I speak emotionally. "It wasn't even fun, you know. And I questioned myself about why it wasn't satisfactory like people say it is."
Rohaan looks at me with an unreadable expression.
"Then I found the answer." I continue. "It's Allah (God) that gives you peace and satisfaction. And it's Allah (God) that puts love between two people."
Something stirs in his hazel eyes. But he doesn’t say anything.
I've turned towards the bathroom when I hear him.
"Really?" He asks.
I nod with a small smile.
"Thank you."
This arrogant man is thanking me?
"Uh, yeah. No problem."
- Writer
