FATIMA (YOU series #2)

Chapter 15

Poor little girl, still waiting for her happy ending.

- Unknown.

Fatima

I stare at him as he drives. His jaw clenched, and his hands etched firmly onto the wheel.

"You could have at least been civil," I say, breaking the ice.

His eyes are still trained on the road.

I huff, "I am to blame for my actions, not my friends."

"You are," he replies.

Really nigga? I roll my eyes at his bluntness.

"Couldn't you at least sugarcoat it?" I say.

"I can't," he answers.

"Then why did you have to be so mean?" I asked.

He finally spared me a glance, "you are to blame for your bad decisions, and your friend plays a major role in egging you on. But I don't care about your friend, and I'm not obligated to be cordial with her."

I fold my arms over my chest, "you're being uncool right now."

"That's okay with me," he responds.

I gape at him. Is this really the game he's playing right now? "Regardless of your thoughts on her, I'm going to enjoy my time with her this weekend."

"You should since it'll be the last you'll see of her," he replies.

I whip my head in his direction, "You can't control who I see."

He's losing all the points he had earned this past week. He must be high on acid if he thinks he can dictate my life.

"I don't want to, but it must be done if you are to be reformed completely," he says.

I looked for amusement on his face while he spoke such bull, but there was none. This wasn't some sick joke. These were his true feelings. "Reformed? I'm not an addict."

He parked the car as we pulled into the house. Finally giving me his full attention, he turned to face me. "I never said you were. Right now, it's a bad habit you need to quit, and that's my goal."

"Your goal? Don't you dare use those stupid terminologies on me. Am I some project to you? Are you going to document this? You are no different from that monster." I yell.

His face falls as he registers my words. I didn't know if I had chosen my words poorly or if they had just come out—the latter. I hadn't even stopped to pick my words. But that was a lie. He was nothing like that man.

He turns back around, "if you're done, you may get out now."

His tone was harsh. It was clear the conversation had ended on his part. There was no more room for me to speak, so I silently alighted.

Four hours in, and I was already sick of this. My jaw hurt from all the smiling, and my feet were killing me. Ailah and Hudayya had snuck me away for a break, but Aunty Amina found me quickly. I had met too many people than I had memory space for.

I had yet to see or hear from Ibrahim. He wasn't expected to be her as the event was meant for women only. I contemplated texting him and apologising but ultimately decided not to. It had been determined at the court of Fatima that I was indeed not to blame.

"We look forward to seeing more of you at Family events," the woman I had been speaking to tells me. I hadn't caught a word she had said and had even forgotten she was standing before me.

"InshaAllah," I respond, and she walks off.

Juju appears beside me, "finally, I thought she would never leave."

"I didn't even catch a word of the conversation," I admitted.

"I know. I saw that far-away look in your eyes. What's the issue?" she asks, and I narrate the earlier event.

He shakes her head in disapproval "comparing him to your dad was a dick move. Especially when he knows what he knows."

I slump my head on her shoulder, "I'm a dick, Juju."

"A big one," she responds, and we laugh.

"But how can I no longer have you in my life? I won't survive it," I say, clutching onto her.

She pats my back softly, "you've survived worse. And we can still FaceTime."

I hum.

"Cheer up, Tiims. Once he sees that you're doing good and maintaining sobriety, he'll loosen up. Just be patient," she adds.

I gape at her, "not you defending someone that's mean to you."

"Not you being a dick to your husband," she retorts.

"He's not my husband," I state.

"Yet," she replies, pinching my cheeks.

I swat her hands away, "my make-up."

At around seven, the music and dancing stop. Some people head inside to offer Maghrib, while some leave. I escorted Juju and Safina to the car down the street. There were so many cars that people were restricted from parking inside. Only immediate family were able to drive in.

I walk back down the street and into the house. I go to Ailah's room and offer Maghrib before going to the living room to wait for Mama.

"Hello, Amarya. It's nice to see you again, looking stunning as always," Jafar says as he and Ibrahim's other friends arrive in the living room.

He walks in last, a mundane look on his face. I maintain eye contact, but his expression stays unchanged, his eyes burning holes into mine.

"Wow, she's so captivated with her groom that she doesn't even accept a compliment," Akram says.

I break our stare and look back at them, "I'm sorry. It's nice to see you guys again."

"Don't apologise for wanting to stare at him. We can even give you the room if you'd like," Jafar replies.

I grab my bag and shoes, "That won't be necessary. I'm leaving anyways. Bye, everyone." I don't wait for a response and rush out.

The car must be parked on the street somewhere. I slip on my shoes and run for the gate, nearly tripping every two steps.

It took me ten whole minutes to find the car. Once I was situated, I shot mama a text to let her know I was already in the car.

Ibrahim

Jafar clutched his stomach, nearly falling over as he laughed at Fatima. Everyone had been dying of laughter.

"Why is she running like that?" Bukar inquires.

Hud loudly chuckles, "She's wearing heels, bro."

I couldn't help the smile that crept onto my face. This shit was hilarious.

"Akram, what's the meaning of this?" Ammi asks, coming over to the window.

Akram was kneeling with tears streaming down his face as he gasped for air.

She peeks out the window, "what are you guys laughing at this hard?"

Jafar attempts to exclaim, but he only bursts into fits of laughter, and we all join. She didn't know it yet, but this had earned her a one-way ticket to forgiveness town. All the anger I felt from her unscrupulous comment earlier had faded.

I knew she hadn't meant it. Instead, she said it in the heat of the moment.

I hadn't told her how breathtaking she looked today. I hadn't complimented her plump lips or how her clothes hugged her perfectly. All that was left now was regret.