Their Fate

chapter 33

Thank you for patiently waiting, here's the update!

Ibrahim

Hairah doesn't know how much of that simple action is making an effect on me. I always watch Hairah, drying and pulling her dark brown hair into a ponytail with my half-closed pretending-to-be-sleep eyes. The way her smooth and silky hair moves makes my heart rhyme strangely. I know, what I feel is stupid. I can't give myself an explanation for why I always watch her do it.

It's crazy.

Maybe I was too alone for a long time that I'm feeling these stupid feelings?

"Oh, you are awake?" I heard Hairah say, that's when I realize I had opened my eyes wide. She turned towards me after putting on the dupatta around her shoulders. It's Friday, and I know for a fact that she always wears Pakistani salwars on Fridays.

It suits her well...

"Yeah. Assalam Alaikum." I say sitting up, careful enough to not wake Ali.

"Wa Alaikum Assalam. Did I wake you up?"

"No." I always am awake when you do this, Hairah.

Nodding and giving me the calming smile, she turned again to the mirror. Her hair bounced as she did. "When did you start wearing hijab?" The question popped out of my mouth even before I could stop it. This question was egging on my head since I first saw her hair, her beautiful hair that tempted my fingers to run through it.

"Uh, since I was in 7th grade. Like when I was 12 years old. Ever since, I didn't remove it, at least not in front of non-mahrams." She beamed when she said it, proud of herself. Since 12 years old?

And no non-mahrams have seen her hair? That means apart from her natural mahrams, I'm the first one to see those beautiful strands? Am I the one to cherish that hair of hers? It feels good to know.

Ugh! Why am I so emotional today? What am I even thinking? Leave it. I realize that I have still not responded to Hairah. "Masha Allah."

"Well...it was hard to not show it off when my cousins told me they were jealous of my hair. But, I obeyed Allah and treasured it for my future hubby! That is you!" She chimed happily. No, Hairah, don't do it. I already feel bad for being a secondhand piece!

I just laughed it off.

"Can I ask you something?" Why do I feel like I'm not ready for whatever she is going to ask? Nevertheless, I nod.

"It's the twelfth day since our nikkah. I've observed you, Ibrahim. If you are happy this second then the next second, you are sad. Or that frown will appear on your face. What do you think, that it shifts your mood quickly?"

Twelve days. Twelve days had passed. And these days, Hairah had proved me wrong in every aspect. I tried my best to find anything in her that resembles Wafa. But I always find zero. These days proved to me that Hairah is different, not just from Wafa, but most of the women I heard about.

She jokes, laughs, and gets mad, but every time she makes sure that I'm in no way affected by any hurt. I'm observant. I know how much she gets me to talk with her, to make me feel comfortable. Only if I could tell her that I'm just afraid. That I'm a coward who is afraid of betrayal.