4- Gilded

She sat in the middle of the studio lacing up her ballet slippers, her thoughts running amok. The overhead lights reflected in the mirrors lining the walls and the sight of herself in her red leotard and matching pointe shoes was comforting, filling her heart with a particular safety she only felt while within the confines of the studio walls.

She stood up and tied her braids into a ponytail before approaching one of the mirrors and which each step she took, the unsettling feeling in her stomach lessened till it was only a thought in her mind.

She reached out and gripped the barre, running through a series of stretches and warm ups. With each stretch, a feeling like home exploded within her chest.

The soles of her feet burned, her thighs quivering with the strain she was putting them through but she didn't stop, couldn't stop. She could feel the difference in her body like she always did, lungs wide open, blood pumping, heart racing, chest burning, freeing her but it wasn't freeing exactly, she could still feel the restraints on her like shackles; binding and suffocating.

She'd never been athletic, but it was only after what had happened to her in senior year that she became obsessed with dancing, and not in a good way.

The nightmares crept in at night, turning it into her nemesis. They became so bad and frequent that she made the day her night and the night her day, relying on catnaps at daytime to keep her going.

And so, she danced. Danced as hard as she could to mentally and physically exhaust herself, in order to sleep at night.

Danced so she wouldn't stand still, think, ponder and crumble. Danced away her problems, her reality, the emptiness that gnawed and nibbled at the edges of her gut like acid; burning, eating and destroying.

Dancing hurt her entire body, exhausting muscles she never thought she had and sometimes, it made her feel like she was dying but it was good, it kept the nightmares at bay.

Her life felt aimless, being on a routine of sleeping and dancing save for the sketching she got done when she dreamt about the beach.

She felt like she was floating, spending her daytimes at her brother's, working out obsessively in his gym or dancing in the makeshift studio he set up for her and her nights at Nadia's when she wasn't dancing.

Stopping for a moment to catch her breath when she kept faltering a step, she realized that her head was no longer in the dance. With a deep sigh, she quickly changed into her shirt and sweatpants, deciding to go out on a run to clear her head instead.

Her feet hit the concrete trail, time soaking into her skin like a kiss, slow and seductive. She sprinted hard and fast, taking the back route between the sprawling Belko estate. It was a different kind of adrenaline rush but she loved it nonetheless.

When she rounded the corner, she slowed her run to a jog before she stopped and stretched her legs, her fingers pressing her toes as she waited for the adrenaline rush to tamp down a little.

She then began her walk back to the estate. Not Nadia's this time around but her father's, her heart slamming wildly against her ribcage as she thought about what she could encounter once in there. Why she chose that moment to return home was still beyond her but she knew she had to, it was only a moment before her father hauled her defiant ass back where she belonged.

{••}

"Noor." A woman's voice chirped from behind as she began to ascend the stairs, forcing her to stop, heartbeat ricocheting faster at the sudden noise.

"Huda," she bit back in reply, whipping her head backwards as light suddenly floored the stairs, blinding her a little.

"Noo..."

"It's Huda, don't call me Noor," she cut the woman off, her eyes finally adjusting to the bright lights.

She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at the woman who had aligned her body with hers.

"You're back," she stated unfazed, disregarding Noor's rudeness which she was used to already.

"Obviously," Noor rolled her eyes, contempt swirling between them.

"Loose the attitude young lady. If your mother were alive, you wouldn't talk to me like that," the woman warned, her voice so low you wouldn't be able to discern the malice beneath it.

"Oh yeah?" she taunted. "If she were alive, you wouldn't be married to my father ya khalti."*

Pitiful, wasn't it?

Both women stared at each other with contempt, neither willing to back down, both unwilling to lose to the other.

Staring at the woman was like staring at herself in the mirror, except she was fifteen years her senior. From the exquisitely sculpted cheekbones, nose, and mouth that adorned her flawless face with eyes as black as night, one could easily say that the woman had birthed her but alas, that wasn't the case, she was the twin of her mother and that was reason enough for Noor to hate her father's wife.

She was her mother's doppelganger and she too was unfortunately hers except the dark irises of her mother's were always warm, tender and loving while her twin's were always manipulative and misleading.

Noor spun on her heels and continued her walk, ignoring her aunt's stare.

"There's a barbecue tomorrow but before that, we'll have brunch together as a family."

Noor scoffed at that, wondering if the woman had finally lost it.

"Your father expects you to be there. Dress well and do pretend for once in your life to show decorum and respect."

"I'm not going," she responded without stopping, taking two steps at a time, eager to set distance between them.

"It wasn't a question."

Noor froze in the middle of the staircase, the words sinking in place. She spun around, a retort on her tongue but her aunt was nowhere in sight.

Resigned, she walked the last steps to her room feeling once again the weight of the shackles keeping her in place. She was free to do whatever she wanted in words but in action, she never truly was. Her father still dictated every of her move and she was oh so tired of being a Belko.

She knew what the barbecue meant, she had no choice. She had to be there and for the first time in forever, she wondered what it would be like to not be Noorul-Huda Belko and just be someone else.

{••}

Juwairiya smiled as she ushered the ladies into a feminine dining area—one of five in the villa— tastefully decorated in white Italian country furniture, laden with different shades of flower arrangements.

A buffet table set for breakfast displayed baskets of Arabic pastries and warm breads, croissants and pancakes freshly baked by one of her resident chefs.

An enormous centerpiece of artistically displayed fruit, carved into bite size shapes, placed in fine China bowls took stage in the center, flanked by more blue platters presenting a variety of cheeses and eggs.

Exclamations of glee and approval arose from all the women as they complimented Juwairiya on the food and creative presentation.

A fabulous blend of scents inundated the air; blooming flowers and a heady mix of feminine oils which they had used liberally mixed with warm bread and baked goodies.

"Come on in, sit, sit." She gestured at the chairs as five neatly dressed housemaids wheeled in a tea trolley, politely serving tea, coffee and freshly squeezed fruit juices.

"Juwairiya," Hajar interrupted the silence as she placed back her tea cup on the saucer, fixing her gaze on her host. "You disappeared without a trace, you abandoned your friends."

"It is not like that Hajar," she spoke softly, her Arabian accent coming out to play as she regarded the woman with a warm smile. "The boutique has been taking a lot of my time."

Hajar smiled, appeased by Juwairiya's statement and resumed sipping her tea, moving her gaze back to Fatin who was drawling on about her latest adventure at the Caribbean, still basking in the attention Juwairiya had offered her.

Juwairiya smiled sadly, knowing that among the tight-knit circle, she was still the outsider and the friend they all loved to hate. They wanted to be a part of her glamorous life and enjoy her company but are quiet envious of her, what with the fact that she was a stunning Emirati and married to the most powerful and wealthiest Nigerian in the neighborhood.

Behind closed doors, in the privacy of their rooms, most of them found fault in her marriage. No one she knew was true to her except the woman whom she had betrayed to be able to live the kind of life she was living now.

She couldn't blame them for their speculations, she could even say she understood them on a level and therefore couldn't fault them but still, she was wary around them even though she enjoyed their company.

"Juwairiya?" Hajar placed a hand on her shoulder, jolting her out of her thoughts. "Are you okay?"

"Ay," she smiled, downing the rest of her tea.

"How is the boutique going?" Saudah questioned as she dab a napkin on her lips.

"It is going great Alhamdulillah. A new section has been opened," Juwairiya replied, garnering a chorus of Alhamdulillahs and Masha Allahs. 

"That is fantastic. I would be there to shop the new arrivals first," Zainab—the shopaholic— grinned, clasping her hands together in excitement.

"Really now?" Saudah snickered, glaring at Zainab. "I don't think your husband would allow you near any boutique ever again, you'll soon run him bankrupt."

Zainab spluttered, her fair skin turning pink with embarrassment. She knew that she was a serious shopaholic but so were they, a woman according to her deserved all the pampering in the world, considering all the sacrifices she made the moment she hit puberty.

"Da'aki anha ya Zainab,"• Juwairiya smiled, joining the ladies in their laughter. "You deserve all the money Abu Bahaiya can give you."

Zainab smiled, feeling at ease. How could she survive without her husband's credit cards?

"I can't imagine not being able to have money to shop," Fatin shuddered, dropping her tea cup on the table. "Sa'adah, you shouldn't target Zainab. We all love to be spoiled by our husbands, it's the least they can do."

"Because Lord help you the money runs out right?" Noor questioned, stepping into the gathering with a look of disdain etched on her face.

"Noor!" Juwairiya stood up, her voice rising in the now quiet room.

"Really though, you should do something meaningful with your lives instead of relying on your husbands for money, you should rely on yourselves but what are you women capable of apart from gossiping?" Noor shrugged, smiling saccharinely at the women who stared at her in utter disbelief, feeling more embarrassed than ever. "And it's Huda, how many times do I have to tell you that?" she glared at Juwairiya before turning on her heels and exiting the room just as quickly as she had gone in.

"I am sorry about Noor," she sat back down on her seat uneasily. "She is having one of her tantrums."

"Must be hard for her," Fatin smiled bitterly, patting Juwairiya's hand in understanding. "Poor thing lost her mother and her father goes AWOL then gets married to her aunt without notice, of course she is bound to get angry."

Silence met her statement but she continued, oblivious to the uneasy look that passed between the women. "Of course I don't blame you for marrying him, Al'amir is a catch and any woman would have loved to be married to him. No one is immune to his charms and the money of course," she smiled, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

"Fatin," Zainab admonished softly, her gaze fixed on Juwairiya who had stilled, her soft features hardening.

"It's okay," Juwairiya uttered shakily as she rose from her seat. "Thank you for coming. I look forward to seeing you guys again," she added, dismissing them as she walked out of dining area.

A chorus of disapprovals rang behind her but she paid no heed to them as she strolled to the garden, a whirlwind of emotions swelling within her.

_________

*= aunt

•= leave her alone