WrongSufferedAtHands

20.

Afiyah continued having anxiety episodes in the following weeks. She would shed tears over trivial matters, and her annoyance even lead her to argue with Affan over silly topics, which resulted in misunderstandings between the two. She was upset and apprehensive since she was hardly smiling anymore, and Affan was always pointing out her sour demeanor.

Afiyah was affected intellectually and emotionally by what Eshaal and Bushra said that day, and before she could grasp what had unfolded, she was slipping into a profound despair. She lost weight and became more fatigued since she was sleep deprived at night and cranky throughout the day. The vivid dreams she was having about Hassan became increasingly terrible, and when she would recall them, she would be tormented for the whole day.

Afiyah was perplexed as well and guilty that perhaps she had betrayed Hassan. But then she recalled his mother's deeds to arrange her marriage. She struggled with whether to think Hassan would still want her or whether he had moved on.

"Here." The file snapped with the marble countertop where Afiyah was scrubbing the dishes. As she gazed at the envelope on the counter, the washcloth against the plate came to a halt.

"What's that?" Cold and dry, she questioned.

"You could open it and see what's within." As he awaited her action, Affan slumped against the refrigerator.

Afiyah blew out through her nose and wiped her soaking hands against her trousers before grabbing the envelope and delicately ripping it with her teeth.

The scribbled text was revealed when she unfolded the rolled paper. As she recognized the latter, she gulped nevertheless.

"You were selected from several candidates; you can go in for the interview the following week."

After folding the paper and placing it inside an envelope, Afiyah placed it exactly where Affan had left it.

"I don't want this work, and I can't take care of Zoya there."

"You've wanted this opportunity for months; why are you hesitating to do so now?"

"I've got my reasons." She said as she slammed the dish on the counter, sending the loud clatter resonating against the walls, "Whether I take care of Zoya, the home, and your mother or I do job to generate money."

"This isn't being done to generate money; you're getting the career of your dreams. Additionally, if you keep yourself engaged, you will experience less stress. You'd be too busy to maintain a sour attitude." His face twisted in rage as he scowled at her. "And one final time, please treat my mother with respect."

"Respect?" she snapped, sneering, "I have committed my life to her, and you're talking about respect? I take better care of her than I do of myself or my daughter. You expect me to show respect as I comply with her requests? What does respect even mean in your perspectives, then?" Her voice reverberated across the kitchen.

"What's wrong with you lately? You were all good and pristine before becoming agitated and ready to fight. Have you recently had a head injury that may have caused you to lose certain senses?" He attempted to go closer to her, staring into her eyes with wrath and frustration.

"You think I'm losing senses now?" She queried with her voice low.

"Yes, very much. You're growing into a mindless shrew." After spitting at her, he sauntering, left the kitchen. Afiyah's labored breathing was drowned out by the sound of his boots stomping on the marble floor.

She dug her fingers into her scalp while gasping for air and trying to figure out how to ease her blind rage. She grabbed the dish off the counter, raised it up in the heavens, and slammed it to the floor.