HER CRUSH

Chapter59

Zarah..
Two weeks later...
For the past two weeks, Abdul and I hadn't spoken to each other. Everyone seemed to be blaming me, and I felt lost, unsure of where to turn. It hurt to see everyone siding with him, as if I was the only one wrong. That night, he'd gone out, and I had no idea where. All I knew was that he hadn't slept at home.

The next day, his mother scolded him severely. I wasn't sure who told her about his whereabouts, but I knew it wasn't Sufyan. She kept asking me if Abdul and I had fought, but each time I shook my head, denying it.  the wedding was postponed. It was Thursday, and the marriage was now scheduled to take place tomorrow after the Zuhr prayer, at 1:30 pm, God willing.

Lately, my appetite had disappeared. I barely recognized myself. Instead of chatting and laughing the way I used to, I buried myself in studying and thinking. Exams were near, and I clung to them like an anchor in the storm.

Abdul hadn't tried to repair our relationship. If anything, he avoided me. He barely spoke when I was around, and whenever our eyes met, he'd fall silent. The noise of the house became too much, so I retreated to my room to read.

A soft knock pulled me from my thoughts. I rose, expecting Ama or Hanan, but to my surprise, it was Abdul. He didn't look at me, just walked in, set a plate of food on my table, and rummaged through the drawer. He pulled out a pen and paper, scribbled something, then placed the note beside the plate. Without a word, he walked out.

I stood there, frozen. My chest tightened, and a tear escaped before I wiped it away quickly. I picked up the paper and read:

"Don't let what happened affect the baby. Please eat not for my sake, but for Allah's."

My throat clenched. In his mind, the baby was all that mattered. Me? My feelings? Secondary. The mention of Allah's sake pierced deeper. It wasn't reconciliation....it was responsibility. Duty. My role had been reduced to carrying his child.

I stared at the food, my appetite fading further. Eating for the baby's sake felt hollow, transactional. Would Abdul ever care for me again? Or was the baby the only glue holding us together?

Still, I forced myself to eat, took a sip of water, then wiped my mouth mechanically. I longed to escape to Aunt Ramla's house, to breathe without this suffocating atmosphere.

And so I made up my mind...I wouldn't ask Abdul's permission. I wouldn't even speak to him first. I'd go straight to Ummi.

After bathing and dressing in a long gown, I wrapped my veil and walked straight to her room.

"Assalamu alaikum," I greeted softly as I entered. My heart faltered. Abdul lay with his head on Ummi's lap, looking unwell. Sufyan sat nearby. Abdul didn't even glance my way.

Ummi's warm smile greeted me. I bowed slightly, fidgeting with my fingers. "Ummi... I want to go see my sister," I murmured.

"Come here," she beckoned. I forced a smile and stood. Abdul made to rise, but she held him down. "Aradta an tasqut maratan ukhra? (You want to fall again?)"

"Ummi, I won't fall," he whispered. His voice was weak, almost boyish. He tried to stand again, but she called sharply, "Come back here! Sit down. You both will answer me today. I've seen enough."

Her gaze pierced through us. "You've been avoiding each other, barely speaking. What's going on?"

Abdul shifted, eyes darting. I lowered mine, my heart thundering.

Sufyan, always the peacemaker, cleared his throat. "Ummi, maybe let them talk later...

"No," she cut him off. "We'll talk now."

The silence thickened. Abdul's eyes finally met mine....soft, fleeting vulnerability flashing....before he closed them again. His walls went back up.

"Tell me the truth," Ummi pressed. "You've fought, haven't you?"

"Ummi, nothing like that," Abdul muttered from her lap. "We didn't fight. We aren't fighting."

Her face hardened. "Do you think I'm a fool? If you won't tell me, I'll start making changes myself."

Sufyan shifted uncomfortably and excused himself, leaving the three of us.

Ummi sighed. "Five minutes. Sort it out." She left too, closing the door behind her.

The silence was suffocating. I fiddled with my fingers, then whispered, "I'm sorry." My throat burned. "I admit it, Abdul. I feel like crying, but it's true. You're driving me crazy, and I can't do without you."

No response. His eyes remained shut, his chest rising and falling heavily. His silence cut deeper than any harsh word.

"Abdul, you're ignoring me," I choked.

Finally, his voice came, gentle, almost childlike. "Am I?" He opened his eyes, and the innocence in them melted my heart.

"You can't keep doing this. You can't keep acting cold. For Allah's sake, I'm your wife!"

"Oh, are you?" he replied, his words laced with quiet mockery.

"I'm trying, Abdul." My voice cracked. "I'm sorry for everything. I didn't mean to hurt you. But you have to accept....it wasn't just me. It was you too."

"Me?" He scoffed. "Mine? Seriously?"

"Yes," I said firmly. "It's your fault for not understanding me, for cheating, for disloyalty. I've apologized again and again, and all you do is ignore me. Shout at me, Abdul! At least then I'll feel less guilty. Stop freezing me out. You're hurting me...and yourself."

"I'm not hurting myself by hurting you," he muttered, eyes dark.

"Yes, you are."

I looked straight at him, tears streaming. "Why are you like this?"

For a long moment, he just stared back. Then slowly, he extended his hand.

I hesitated, then walked closer. He pulled me into his arms. His skin burned under my touch...he was feverish.

"Abdul, you..." I started, but he pressed a finger to my lips.

My head fell against his chest. His heartbeat pounded beneath my ear, steady and fragile at once. My tears slipped silently, soaking his shirt.

For the first time in two weeks, I let myself breathe...