Chapter Fourteen: Drenched in Misery

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Asslaam alaikum wa rahmatullah my dear readers. I do hope that you enjoy this chapter; it's probably the saddest one so far. It was quite emotional for me when I wrote and while I edited it. 😞😞

The day Naz visited was a day to be forever remembered. It made such a huge difference in her life that she couldn't forget in a hurry - even if she wanted to.

She had been sitting in the living room when her husband's loud chatter with his friend echoed through the thick walls of the building. It was obvious that they were ascending the stairs.
Zahra had been informed, prior to their arrival, of their coming. She knew exactly who he was with. It was Naz, his closest friend.

As always, she hurried to her room, sat on the musalla, folded her legs and clasped her arms over them like a dutiful student at jangirde (Tahfeez) waiting for her turn to recite the Glorious Qur'an.

Whenever a male visitor came around, she went into the room. It was the custom, one she respected.

But not today. The noise suddenly became too unbearable for her. She was a quiet person, and so was Sharif. It had always been the two of them, alone in their quiet home. They were always so quiet that she doubted that their neighbours knew they existed. That was them, the way they lived.

A few moments after they arrived, her husband entered the room to give her a bear hug, then left to join his guest.

They chatted as their cutleries clinked on their plates. At one point, she heard Naz compliment her cooking, and she could feel the heat of Sharif's pleasure even from her room. There was no doubt that he felt more pleasure than she did.
When they finished their meal, Naz asked if he was allowed to greet the madam of the house.
Of course, Sharif said yes, which was quite rare. But it was Naz; it was always a 'yes' with Naz.

As was another of their custom, she greeted his friend from behind the curtains.

Sharif came in shortly to inform her that he would be dropping off Naz as quickly as he could. He wouldn't stay long, he said. But Zahra soon learned that not all promises come true. 'Quickly' turned out to be hours after agonizing hours of waiting. It was an event that heralded the coming of many of its kind. For the first time, Sharif returned home at 11pm.

***

Zahra resumed school the following week. The process was quick and smooth: nothing like she had expected. She met marvelous people, people who were willing to assist her with anything she wanted.

Zahra was grateful that she began schooling: it took her mind off disturbing thoughts.

In the coming weeks, she began to have anxiety attacks. It would start at exactly 9pm. She wouldn't be able to concentrate no matter how hard she tried. She would stare blankly at the pages of her books, seeing nothing. Uneasiness would assail and overwhelm her until she gave up her fruitless effort of reading at 10pm and stood at the balcony, counting the passing vehicles on their Havana street while constantly reciting:
'Yaa Hayyu yaa Qayyoomu birahmatika 'astagheethu 'aslih lee sha'nee kullahu wa laa takilnee 'ilaa nafsee tarfata aynin (O Ever Living, O Self-Subsisting and Supporter of all, by Your mercy I seek assistance, rectify for me all of my affairs and do not leave me to myself, even for the blink of an eye)'
and
'Yaa Hayyu yaa Qayyoomu birahmatika 'astagheethu 'aslih lee sha'nee kullahu wa laa tanzi' minni saalih ma 'aidaitanee (O Ever Living, O Self-Subsisting and Supporter of all, by Your mercy I seek assistance, rectify for me all of my affairs for me and do not take away the good things that You have given me.)'

When she would get tired, she would sit, pray, pace, read the Qur'an or stare at her phone until pm slowly turned am, then she would sob uncontrollably, her heart wrenching to shreds.
She soon became so accustomed to the lone late sound that his car made when it pulled into their lot, for the veering of the engine sounded as impatient as Sharif. Each squeal sounded urgent with a vibration that was usually intense and longer than necessary. That type of squeal that made the neighbours hiss.

But not to Zahra. This very provoking sound was the sweet music that got her heart racing with anticipation, the same sound that on other occasions left her feeling restless with goosebumps washing over her skin.

But on the nights when patience was too expensive to be bought, she would dial Sharif's number. On those hard lonely nights, his phone would either be switched off or busy. And if it were to go through, he would complain about how busy he was and couldn't go home early. On some unlucky nights, he would snap at her then end the call.

As his lateness endured and became the new normal, so did her instinct. Precious memories slowly faded away until she could no longer make out the sound of his car. It was like a person with dementia, slowing losing grip with what was and what wasn't.

The reality was this: he knew that she knew where he was going, who he was going to see and what he was going to do.

And Naz?

He also knew that she knew where he was taking her husband, who he was taking him to see and what he was taking him to do, and that she was deliberately enduring in silence and pain, for how did one speak of such filthy reality when acceptance was yet to be established?

Every single time, when she would go to the balcony and watch them drive away, she would feel as though she were suffocating in a room where all sources of oxygen were blocked. But she felt so small, like a pin in a desert. What could she probably do to such big and powerful men who could crush her in an instant if they so willed?

As time grew wings, whenever she would hear of Naz, she would begin to feel the emergence of an emotion she later realized was hatred. How much she hated him! She hated him more than she would probably ever hate Sharif.

But did she change towards her husband? No. She learned fast how to mask her feelings, how to become a shadow of herself as she gave him a customary glass of water with a wane smile.
One night, he said, "You are a student who needs to wake up earlier than me, so please stop waiting for me. Just go to bed once its 9pm."
Who knew that better than her? How could a man like him ever understand that she didn't want to wait on him but she just couldn't stop the worry or summon the sleep?

Yet after every hardship is ease: Allah decreed their trip around that time. As gullible as she was, she missed him with every breath she took, and was so grateful for the opportunity to regain their lost moments. To her, it was a mercy without limit. It was time to make up for all they had lost and to pray for a more successful marriage and children.

But even as they packed, Sharif did not forget to get the pills despite her prayers that he would.

Yes, pills. He made her take them every morning, while he monitored her.

Their jobs were defined: he handed her the pills and a glass of water, and her duty was one - to swallow the pills obediently, and when she did, he would sigh in relief and say, "That's my girl!".

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