Basma likes Fendi

25 | Pity Party

•Basma

Bashir.

My Bashir.

This so called Bashir that Jameel was speaking to on the phone some days ago, was he my Bashir?

The Bashir that became my best friend for the last few months, my confidante after my sisters, Aaliyah and Yusra or another homosapien that answered to the same name?

The mans voice sounded a lot like Bashir's voice but what I struggled to understand is if he was a part of this cruel plan or he was as oblivious as I was.

I woke up with thoughts of Rayyan today and I prayed for his wellbeing as well as Bashir's. These men made me happy in their own ways especially Rayyan who now owns my heart and soul combined and my body—as of recent.

I pray Allah forgives us for the decisions we made in our moments of blindness and utter lust. After this I'm never engaging in any filth and hopefully, he understands and refrains from it too.

How many days, weeks, months—that could be an exaggeration— but for how long have I been here? Nobody has come to save me. Are they still looking for me or have they forgotten that their blood has been transported forcefully elsewhere—left my case to became cold, my file shifted to the bottom of the others before me.

Chaima walks into my room without knocking and throws a rainbow of clothes onto the edge of the bed. "Wear this and get ready for him." Hands on her hips, lips in a straight line with a frown on her face—she stood by the door waiting for me to move.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Ask him yourself." After these few days I noticed she was deeply in love with Jameel. The way she smiles when only he, speaks. The way she tries her hardest to get his attention in the room.

It seems he knew and was just ignoring her but I couldn't care less. All I wanted was to go back to my family. They could have a fiesta of love after my departure if they wished.

I slowly moved off the bed and into the bathroom to brush my teeth and take a shower.

I found him waiting on the edge of the bed for him and I ran back into the bathroom in shock. I stared at the mirror and prayed he would be gone. I wasn't ready to face to him in only a towel.

I peep from behind the door and he's still there—staring at the floor—deep in his own thoughts.

"Please pass my my clothes and I'll be ready soon."

He looked up and smiled upon noticing my position behind the door with my hands stretching outside. He does as I say and picks what he likes from the pile and hands me a long sleeved turtleneck, palazzo and a veil.

I asked him to give me another shirt because my pregnancy was already showing and the shirt would be tight so he offers a dress shirt and I ask for leggings to go with it instead of the palazzo.

After that I get my shoes and we head out with my veil wrapped around my body like a coat. The look in his eyes told me he liked the way I was dressed and I resented him more for staring too long.

We drove for what felt like forever until he stops in front of a large dirty looking building that was covered with glass windows and tents at the entrance. It looked like an old castle.

Jameel stops in the parking lot and doesn't say anything. He goes out and around to open my door. How chivalrous I regarded—in my mind of course. I wasn't going to tell him that so he would think he was making an impression.

I came down and he left his hand mid-air for me to hold with a smile. I really wanted to ignore him. Really wanted to push past him and run to anybody nearby, explain my predicament so they'll call the police but instead I compose myself and let him hold my hands with a tight smile.