The Flying Dreams

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I tried to keep my distance from Shifa, ending our movie nights with the help of swift lies. I am tired. Too much work. My eyes are sore. I think, Shifa got the hint and didn't even bother asking after the seventh time I made a lame excuse. She only nodded and for the first time, averted her gaze earlier than I. It was a shock to me how easily I lied and not once but did it continuously to her. Perhaps, the thought that she already knew I was lying helped tremendously. It got easier to avoid her, avoid looking at her or even hearing her voice. Of course, I was no fool, I understood what had been happening to me—why I started finding Wahab extremely disagreeable and sometimes downright annoying and it made me realize just to what extent I could be disgusted by myself.

Wahab and I were not compatible; we would never be. And the fact that I was slowly realizing just how deeply I was stuck with him made me want to hide somewhere. He liked to pretend I was already his wife and made comments on our future wedding too frequently which used to bash me and be the cause of my happy mood before, now only irritated me. But I had been such a horrible fiancée to him, crushing on his cousin and filling my mind with thoughts I wouldn't dare utter, so I playacted I loved hearing him planning our honeymoon and gave him my preference when he called to ask which colour, I would like our room's walls to be painted in. He was doing everything I had wanted from a husband before he asked for my hand in marriage. He had all qualities that every girl wished in a husband, but my heart refused to see it.

After I declined Shifa's fifth invitation for movies, I had called Wahab. I usually became overly excited after a cheerful day and that night I was nearly touching the sky. The trip to the museum with my friends had been nothing but amazing and all I wanted was an ear to listen to my ecstasy. Although, a tiny voice in my head kept telling me that I didn't deserve to be so happy, I didn't have time to listen to it. Wahab had never been a good choice for doing that, I knew but calling Zoya so late in the night was out of options and I couldn't go to Shifa either. Wahab was my last and only option. He picked up the call on the last ring and he sounded as if I had woken him up, which I might have. I didn't care.

"Adia? Is everything alright? Why are you calling me at this time?"

"I am sorry, you were sleeping?"

I heard him groan and then a reply, "Yes. It's past midnight, Adia. Why weren't you sleeping?"

My mind already knew what a mistake I was going to make but my heart wished to prove it wrong, "I couldn't sleep. I went to see an art museum today."

"With whom? Shifa would never take you."

I decided to ignore the name of the person who was the main cause of the unending battle between my mind and heart and told him the truth. I tried to believe Shifa's words, but I was afraid that she would end up telling him that I had gone out with two boys and a girl who sometimes wore short dresses and I thought it would be better for me to tell Wahab before she did. He remained silent for the longest while and with each second passing, I came to understand what a blunder I had made. His silence was enough to scream his disapproval. The days had started getting colder and night shorter, I kept the phone pressed between my shoulder and ear and tried to unfold my blanket, shivering a bit in the process. Then, after a whole eternity seemed to pass, he sighed loudly on the phone, and I knew what was coming.

"You do know why I asked abbu to send you there, don't you, Adia?"

I have heard that if you stare at bright white light, tears won't fall, but I had only a dim orange light on in my room, I considered getting out of my bed and turn the other light on, but Wahab repeated his question, and I could not move.

"Yes, I do."

"Then? Who are these friends anyway? I didn't send you there to make friends."

Friends, such a lovely word was said with equal disdain to match. I didn't respond to him; he didn't want my reply—he just needed to make a point and I gave him all the time in the world to do so. I didn't send you there to make friends. He sounded as if he believed he was my owner, and my mother would probably say I was. But what of Shifa? What would she say? I couldn't imagine. I didn't know her enough to know the answer and for a mere second, I wished I had gotten to know her better. He was furious and I should have been ashamed to make my fiancé so angry but all I felt was the rage of my own. I thought of my friend, Divya. She was so free and had no fiancé to chain her ankles to him, her parents didn't think she needed a husband to make something of her and a root of jealousy grew inside me. Why couldn't I be born to her parents instead?

"Adia, this is the last time. You hear? If I even hear of something like this again, you will be back in your home before you could even say sorry. Am I understood?"

"Yes. I am sorry."

"I don't need your sorry. If you were really sorry, you wouldn't have gone out without my permission," he exhaled, "Tell me your friends' name."

I faked two other names aside from Divya. Saloni and Vanshikha. I couldn't tell him I had two boys as friends. It would be the utter death of my dream. He said a single word okay and then a loud bang from the outside of my room startled me and him, both.

"What was that?"

I was already getting on my feet when I told him I had no idea and probably Shifa making a ruckus out of the kitchen in the hope of finding something junk to eat at past midnight. And a relief went through me when Wahab laughed, seeming to forget he was mad at me and said, "Oh Allah, she is such a child. Go make my sister something to eat and do not forget our talk, Adia. Goodnight."

Shifa didn't seem to like Wahab much, but one thing was clear to me—Wahab adored his younger cousin. His tone always softened around her name, and he talked about her as if she was the cutest thing to him. I hadn't stopped pondering over the strange revelation when another loud clank of metal nearly made me deaf. I put my phone on the bedside table and tied my hair in a knot in haste before walking out the door. And sure enough, it was Shifa. Hearing my gasp at the mess on the floor, she looked up and in instant, I knew she was not sober. My eyes stayed on the floor and all the broken things, but I couldn't shake the feeling of Shifa's eyes on me.

"Were you asleep? Did I wake you up?"

I raised my eyes and my heartbeat increased on its own accord. It was annoying how only hearing her voice made me all giddy and nervous. When I saw her state, I wished I hadn't gotten out of my room. She wore a white shirt and plain black pants, her hair was perfectly curled around her chin and a black jacket was thrown around her shoulders when she noticed me practically drooling, a sharply trimmed eyebrow raised to touch her hairline.

"You stare at me a lot. Is it because of what I think it is?"

She was not drunk enough to fall over her legs but enough to make me uncomfortable. I didn't ask what she meant; I knew that she knew. There was no point in lying. Her legs moved and with great horror, I realized, toward me. I thought of running back to my room and locking the door, never to come out again but before I could even lift a foot, she was standing in my space. I didn't smell alcohol on her, but she did smell differently.

"Where were you? I thought you were in your room?"

Her gaze didn't falter, and I felt my ears heating. At last, I dropped my eyes and made a slow move to get some space, but her arms held my wrist, and, in a shock, I met her hard stare. She smiled.

"You have a crush on me."