Chapter 4

* 

Amina stepped into the room silently, pausing when she saw Afrah blinking at the ceiling. The latter briefly glanced at her before she resumed her pointless stare. 

"How are you feeling?" Amina asked, moving towards her. 

"Better," she replied simply. 

"Are you sure?" 

She nodded in reply. 

"Afrah," Amina said softly as she stood beside her, staring down at her sister's face, wet with tears. 

"I'm fine," she said unconvincingly. "Or at least I will be." 

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked. 

"No," Afrah replied. 

"A problem shared is a problem half-solved," Amina said. "Why don't you just tell me what this is all about? I do not want to come into the house one more time and see my sister slumped on the floor while everyone cries over her like she's dead or something." 

Slowly, Afrah turned to look at her, her eyes bloodshot and her lips slightly parted. "Amina," she said quietly, "if I wanted to talk about it, then surely I would have come to you sometime in the past eleven years. I don't want to talk to anyone." 

"Why not?" she asked, sitting on the bed. "Why won't you talk about it with me at least? Would it kill you to share your problems with your own sister?" 

"You don't understand," she shook her head. "None of you do." 

"Then help us to understand, Afrah," she said. "Believe me when I say that no one in this world cares about you more than we do. Family comes first, Afrah; they always do. If you won't speak to us about it, then who are you going to speak to?" 

Afrah shook her head as a fresh wave of tears returned. She placed her palms over her face to shield herself from Amina's piercing gaze. The latter took her hands gently, blinking away the tears in her own eyes. 

"Damn you, Afrah," she said, staring at the ceiling. "You're not going to ruin my makeup today." 

That made her laugh, in spite of herself. 

Amina simply held her hands, watching as the tears slowed, and finally ceased. Her heart broke at the sight of her sister so broken and defeated, knowing that there was nothing she could do about it. 

You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. 

"You know you look really ugly when you cry, right?" she said as a slow smile spread across her face. 

"I was hoping to look like you," Afrah smiled back. Amina pulled her hands sharply away from hers, glaring at her. "Sometimes," she said, "I wonder whether you aren't adopted." 

"You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if that was the case. You know you love me," she said, sitting up on the bed. Amina continued to glare at her, but she didn't deny it. 

"Are you coming downstairs?" she asked after a few seconds of silence. "Aunt Safiya should be here by now." 

"I don't think I will," Afrah shook her head. "I'm comfortable right here." 

"Sure?" 

"Sure sure," she nodded. 

"Well, if you need anything, handle it yourself because I am not going to help you with anything," she said as she stood up and walked over towards the mirror. "Now I have to redo my makeup all over again because of you," she said exasperatedly. 

"Are you trying to look fancy for your sweet aunt?" Afrah asked with a smirk. 

"Ew!" Amina snorted. "I'm a hundred percent sure she's going to complain about the way I've dressed, or the way I greet her, or something else which she's probably cooking up in her old brain. But all this glam isn't for her. Ibrahim is coming in a few hours, and I need to look good for my fiancé." 

Afrah stared at her sister's yellow native dress, which was definitely a little bit too tight. Her hair was tied up in a bun, and she had worn a silver chain around her neck. The henna on her hand shone brightly, almost as if it had been done on that same day. Though Afrah would never admit it, her sister was beautiful. 

Definitely more beautiful than her, who was a hopeless mess with nothing but years and years of baggage. 

A knock on the door startled them, and Afrah briefly contemplated pretending to be asleep again, in order to avoid going downstairs. But unfortunately her mother had opened the door already. 

Umma stepped into the room, her eyes trained on Afrah who stared back calmly at her. 

"You're awake," she said, more a statement than a question. 

"Yes," Afrah replied simply. 

"Amina," Umma said without taking her eyes off her, "go downstairs and greet your aunt. She was just asking about you. And for Allah's sake, put on a hijab or something. You look like a freshly wrapped piece of meat."

Amina frowned as she stormed out of the room, throwing a death glare at her sister who was trying so hard not to smile. 

Umma walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, placing the back of her hand on Afrah's forehead to feel her temperature. Satisfied, she pulled away. 

"Have you eaten?" she asked. 

"I will do that soon enough," she replied. 

"I'm sorry for frightening you earlier," she said. "I just..." 

"Umma, please don't," she said. "It's okay." 

"You know I only want the best for you, Afrah. That's all I want. It pains me to see you like this, knowing you're carrying a burden which no one should bear at such a young age. You have your whole life ahead of you, and I don't want to see you wasting it like this, enjoying the comfort of your father's house. For how long are you going to remain like this?" 

"Umma," she shook her head, "please, let's not have this conversation again. I don't want to talk about it anymore." 

Umma sighed, staring out of the open window at the bright blue sky. 

"When will you at least be ready to tell me his name?" she asked. "Just tell me the name, and I swear to you that he shall never know happiness ever again. I will find him, and make sure he pays for what he has done to you." 

Afrah didn't reply. She simply stared down at her hands, allowing the turmoil in her heart to consume her thoughts. 

She knew everyone was merely trying to help her, but she couldn't keep the guilt aside, knowing that she was burdening their lives unnecessarily. They couldn't understand, no matter how hard she tried to explain it. This was a burden she must bear alone, for each of us must carry our own cross. It would be cruel of her to tell anyone, as she knew the consequences of her words. It would destroy the entire family, even more than it already has. 

"I'm here for you, Afrah," Umma said as she placed her hand on her knee. "You know there's nothing I want in this world more than to see you happy, don't you?" 

Afrah nodded, placing her own hand on her mother's. 

"I won't mention this ever again," she said. "But whenever you're ready to talk, I'll be here for you." 

"Thank you, Umma," she said. 

"Now," she stood up, conspicuously wiping a stray tear in her eye, "come downstairs and greet your aunt." 

"But Umma," she began to speak, but her mother cut her off. 

"You are not staying up here by yourself," she said. "Your cousins are all downstairs, and Allah knows it's been ages since you last saw them. You are going downstairs to see them even if I have to drag you by the ankles. Do I make myself clear?" 

"Umma..." 

"I don't care whether you are an adult or not," her mother said. "I am still your mother, and you will do as I say. Otherwise, I'm switching off the WiFi router and you are forbidden from using the Internet for a month." 

Not waiting for a reply, she walked out of the room briskly, leaving Afrah to wonder why she didn't just take her things and run away once and for all. 

Mothers... 

They were the strangest creatures to have ever existed. But then, what would the world be without them? 

Steeling herself, Afrah slid off the bed quietly and reached for her veil. If she was going downstairs, she might as well do it now and be done with it. 

Amir had just lifted his hand and was about to knock when she opened the door. 

"Amina just told me you're awake," he said awkwardly. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine," she lied. 

"And have you taken your drugs?" 

"Maybe I have, or maybe I haven't," she smirked. 

"This isn't a joke, Afrah," he said. "Are you sure you're okay?" 

Afrah whacked him across the head before she glared at him. "When are you going to get it through your thick head that I'm your older sister?" she said. 

"When you start acting like it," he retorted before diving out of the way as she reached out to grab him. "Don't mess up my clothes," he said. 

"Why?" she asked. "Is there someone you're going to see?" 

The way he turned away quickly told her everything she needed to know. 

"I think I'll go downstairs and see who she is then," Afrah chuckled, hurrying towards the stairs before he could say anything again. Resigning to his fate, Amir turned around and headed to his room, hoping with all his heart that Afrah wouldn't embarrass him too much in front of Iman.

But knowing his sister, that was exactly what she was going to do. 

The living room was crowded when Afrah walked in, plastering a smile on her face. Seven pairs of eyes turned in her direction at once, and she stumbled slightly under the intensity of their gaze. 

"Is that really the Afrah I know?" Aunt Safiya said excitedly as she smiled broadly at her. "She's grown so much." 

"Assalamu alaikum," she smiled as she knelt beside her aunt. "Good afternoon, aunt Safiya." 

"Wa alaikis salam," Aunt Safiya smiled broadly at her. "I can't believe it's been ages since I last saw you." 

"You know how it is when they're in school," Umma smiled happily. "They rarely bother to interact with their relatives." 

"I know that all too well," Aunt Safiya waved dismissively. "Do you have any idea how many times Fahad called me while he was in Malaysia?" 

Umma shook her head. 

"Six!" the older woman shrieked. "In over four years of him being there, he only called me six times. Out of those six, four of them were because it was my birthday. The first one was to inform me that he had reached there safely, and the second one was to tell me he would be graduating in a week." 

"You're not serious," Umma said with her eyes widened in shock. 

"I wish I wasn't," she shook her head. "When he returned, I spent hours talking some sense into his head. You know how this generation are. They do not value relationships the way we used to." 

As the two of them launched into a full conversation of criticizing the younger generation, Afrah turned her attention to her cousins. Ahmed, the oldest, was sitting on the chair beside his mother, staring down at his phone and pretending he wasn't there. Afrah ignored him, as even when they were kids he rarely talked to anyone. Iman, the oldest female, was sitting beside Umma, wearing a black Abaya with a veil wrapped around her head. She smiled warmly at Afrah, who immediately understood who Amir was trying to impress. Briefly, she remembered a time when she and Amina had hated her because she was a snitch. Fatima, the youngest female, was sitting beside her sister with a dreamy expression on her face. She briefly glanced at Afrah, smiled, then resumed her staring into space. The other two were the twins, Abdulrahman and Abdulrahim, who were either ten or twelve; she had forgotten. They sat on the chair opposite from her, whispering into each others ears and giggling like little schoolgirls. 

Behind Umma, Amina stood with a sour expression in her eyes, tugging at the hijab she was wearing and looking as though she would love nothing more than to disappear from the scene. 

"She does seem like a good young lady," aunt Safiya pulled Afrah back into the conversation. "And she's pretty as well. One day, she'll make a very good wife." 

The words were like a cold blade to her heart. Afrah immediately turned sour, refusing to meet her mother's piercing gaze. 

"Now, this one here -" she rounded on Amina. "I don't understand how she honestly hopes to attract a man like this." 

Afrah bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at the gaunt expression on Amina's face. 

"Have you forgotten that she's getting married next month?" Umma said, glaring at Amina so she would be quiet. 

"Oh yes," she nodded. "I'd forgotten. Poor fellow, he probably doesn't know what he's signed up for." 

Amina opened her mouth to speak, but it was at that exact moment that the front door was pushed open. As one, they all turned to look at the newcomer. 

Fahad was immensely tall, much taller than anyone Afrah had seen in a long time. He was bulkier too, with his wide shoulders and immensely huge arms. He was wearing a plain white kaftan, with a black cap, black cufflinks, black shoes and a black wristwatch. 

"Assalamu alaikum," he greeted, his voice deep and booming. It reminded Afrah of a bulldog growling. 

"Wa alaikum as salam," Umma smiled broadly at him. "Please Fahad, come in." 

"Good afternoon, aunt," he said slowly as he approached them. 

"Good afternoon, Fahad," she replied. "You've really grown, haven't you?" 

Not sure how to reply the statement, Fahad chose to remain quiet. He took the seat beside Iman, barely acknowledging her presence. 

"Won't you say hi to your cousins?" Aunt Safiya said with a hidden grin. "You haven't seen them in ages." 

"Hello," he said, briefly glancing at Amina. He turned his gaze to Afrah, staring at her with such intensity that it made her squirm. She kept her eyes on the floor, refusing to look up at him while she tried to slow her breathing. 

"Don't mind Afrah," Umma chuckled. "She's just a little bit shy. But I'm sure she'll warm up to you very soon." 

"I highly doubt that," Amina muttered under her breath. 

"So," Umma turned to face him, "how was Malaysia?" 

"It was fine," he replied with a nonchalant shrug. 

"Safiya just told me that you graduated with a First Class degree," Umma continued. 

"That is true," he nodded. 

"You must have worked very hard to achieve that," she said, beaming. 

"Not really," he said with an air of pompousness. "The programme wasn't tough at all. Looking back, I think I should have chosen something a bit more challenging." 

Iman made a choking noise at the back of her throat which Umma and her mother didn't hear. Amina however sniggered at the sound. 

"Mother," he turned to face her, "if you are planning to stay here for long, I think I will have to leave you and return later. There are a few things I need to take care of at work." 

"Go ahead," she waved dismissively. "We'll be staying here until you return." 

"Won't you at least stay and eat something before you leave?" Umma said. "The food is almost ready." 

"I'm afraid not," he shook his head, his eyes still on Afrah. "Urgent business... Can't wait." 

"Afrah dear," her aunt said, "I seem to have forgotten my charger in the car. Please go and fetch it for me. Fahad, please show her where it is." 

Feeling as though she would rather be strangled than to follow him, Afrah stood up nonetheless and headed towards the door, while Fahad followed closely behind. Unbeknownst to them, Umma and aunt Safiya shared a knowing smile as they left, the latter staring down at her bag, where the charging cord was visible above everything else. 

*