Risen from dust

Twenty Three

Emerging from Zaviyaar's gaze, Noor found herself marveling at the sight of the grand mansion before her. It was a truly captivating home, with picturesque aesthetics that took her breath away. The expansive windows allowed streams of sunlight to filter through, casting a magical glow throughout the house. The sprawling lawn featured a splendid fountain adorned with the most exquisite flowers, as if she had stepped into a realm of enchantment. However, her enchantment quickly faded as she stepped inside. Reality struck her with disappointment. How could anyone ever bear to leave this magnificent place? Noor's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an annoyed voice summoning her attention. "Listen, girl, we're all preparing for the party. You can ask the other maids in the house to show you to your room. You'll be taking care of their grandmother. I don't care what you do as long as she doesn't come to me with complaints. Understood?" Mehnaz's tone dripped with annoyance and indifference, making it clear that Noor's role was merely a servant in her eyes.

"Yes, ma'am," Noor responded meekly, her voice carrying a hint of resignation. Throughout her life, she had grown accustomed to being spoken to in such a manner, but that didn't mean she liked it. Deep within her heart, she held onto the belief that Allah never burdened a soul with more than it could bear. She found solace in the hope that one day, she would be blessed with a life filled with happiness and contentment, surrounded by the people she loved. However, before she could inquire about the whereabouts of the other servants, Mehnaz had already departed, leaving Noor standing there, uncertain of her next move.

"Salam, are you the new care taker?" Asked a short stout woman in her mid 30's, she had kind eyes which looked like they had been through hell. Noor felt the same, so she confided in her without knowing her story.

"Yes, could you please show me to daadi jaans room. This house is huge, I don't even know where to begin looking." Noor said looking around the entrance with the chandeliers and indoor plants, it looked serene. She would love to have a cup of coffee in this lounge while staring out at the gorgeous lawn.

"Just go upstairs, it's the first room on the left. By the way, I'm Nazia, you can ask for help whenever you want. Sahab jee is a nice man, his daughters are okay too, they follow whatever Madam Mehnaz says."

"What about Zaaviyar?" blurted out Noor, her curiosity getting the better of her. She couldn't understand why she was so intrigued by this man, why his presence seemed to affect her.

Nazia sighed, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and understanding. "He's a complicated one. He keeps his distance from everyone. He's often out for work or attending parties, and he returns home late. Zaaviyar can be obnoxious and arrogant, causing trouble wherever he goes. He tends to treat women as objects, showing no respect for them. It's not entirely his fault, though. He carries his own pain, but that doesn't justify his actions."

The words lingered in the air, and Noor felt a surge of conflicting emotions. "What do you mean by 'not his fault'? What happened to him? How can you justify his behavior?" Noor's voice quivered with a mix of anger and curiosity. Deep down, she knew she didn't truly hate him, despite his flaws. There was an unexplainable pull that drew her to him, even if he wasn't a virtuous person. Nazia's gaze softened, revealing a glimmer of empathy. "Zaaviyar has been through his own struggles, his own share of pain and heartache. But that doesn't excuse his actions. It's important to hold people accountable for how they treat others. I can't justify what he does, but I can understand the source of his troubles. It's our duty to strive for goodness in our own lives, regardless of the pain we carry." Noor pondered Nazia's words, realizing that everyone had their own battles, their own scars that shaped their behavior. While it didn't absolve Zaaviyar of his actions, it provided a glimpse into the complexities of his character. She couldn't help but wonder if there was more to him than met the eye.

Nazia kindly urged Noor to head upstairs, assuring her that she would return shortly with some food and a fresh set of clothes. Grateful for her assistance, Noor expressed her appreciation before making her way towards her designated task. She climbed the staircase, her footsteps echoing through the grand hallway as she approached the room where her elderly charge, Daadi, resided. In that moment, Noor fervently prayed to Allah, hoping that Daadi would be different from Mrs. Mehnaz and Zaaviyar's descriptions. Standing before the wooden door, Noor closed her eyes and raised her hands in supplication. She poured her heart out to her Creator, seeking guidance, strength, and blessings for the challenging journey she was embarking upon. Little did she know that, at that very moment, Zaaviyar happened to open his door and caught a glimpse of Noor in her serene state. He couldn't help but be captivated by her presence—so peaceful, so beautiful. In that instant, a mix of envy and resentment surged within him. How could a mere servant, someone who seemingly possessed nothing, radiate such inner tranquility, while he, who seemingly had everything, couldn't attain the one thing he desired most? The sight of Noor stirred conflicting emotions within Zaaviyar. His heart felt entangled in a web of admiration, frustration, and a yearning he couldn't fully comprehend

Zaaviyar's smirk grew wider as he relished in Noor's startled reaction to his presence and deep voice.

"Are you going to make this a habit, little Noor? Praying in front of me every time we meet?" he taunted, enjoying her unease.

"What the heck are you doing here?" Noor responded, her anger palpable. "I don't even want to look at you."

Zaaviyar leaned closer, his voice dripping with condescension. "So don't. You can always look at the floor and speak, like a good little servant," he insinuated. "Besides, you're standing in my way. This is my room. Daadi is on the right. Don't bother getting close to me. You are the dust of my shoes, little servant."

Noor, undeterred by his arrogance, mustered her strength and spoke with conviction. "You can't decide who I am or am not. Allah is the only one who can judge people," she retorted, her voice steady. "وَتُعِزُ مَن تَشَاء وَتُذِلُ مَن تَشَاء. Allah honours those He is pleased with and disgraces those He is not happy with. One day, the dust of your shoes might be what you need to survive. You never know."

Zaaviyar's expression hardened, and he abruptly slammed the door in Noor's face, cutting off their interaction. Inside his room, he was left grappling with a whirlwind of emotions. How could she rattle him so easily? He had been with numerous women, yet not a single one of them had managed to evoke such a strong response from him. It was as if Noor had pierced through the layers of his guarded persona with just a simple gaze, igniting a storm of uncharted emotions within him. Noor stood there for a moment, stunned by Zaaviyar's abrupt dismissal. Her heart raced, a mix of anger, frustration, and confusion coursing through her veins. She couldn't understand why he affected her so deeply. There was something about him, something that both repelled and intrigued her.

As she walked away from his door, Noor couldn't help but replay their encounter in her mind. Zaaviyar's piercing eyes, the way he towered over her with an air of superiority—it all left an indelible mark on her. She tried to push him out of her thoughts, reminding herself that he was nothing more than an arrogant, troubled man. But his presence lingered, stirring something within her that she couldn't quite comprehend. Meanwhile, behind his closed door, Zaaviyar leaned against the wall, his mind consumed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He was used to keeping people at a distance, never allowing anyone to get under his skin. But Noor... Noor was different. There was a fire in her eyes, a strength in her words that he hadn't encountered before. She challenged him, defying the image he had carefully constructed. A part of him resented her for stirring up emotions he had long suppressed. He didn't want to care, didn't want to be vulnerable. But another part of him—the part buried deep within—yearned for connection, for someone who saw beyond his façade. Noor had managed to touch that part, awakening a desire he didn't quite understand. Unbeknownst to each other, Noor and Zaaviyar were both entangled in a silent battle. They fought against the growing attraction, their hearts waging war with their rational minds. Noor, determined to maintain her dignity and focus on her responsibilities, couldn't afford distractions. And Zaaviyar, haunted by his past and the shadows that lurked within him, was wary of letting anyone get too close.