Days rolled and raced into weeks and months. It'd been nine weeks, roughly two months since the demise of Hafsat, the birth of Aayan and the marriage of Ummulkhayr. Everything changed in Muslim's household, it changed to be so quiet with almost only Aayan's cries to fill the ponderous and tensed silence, unlike before, when chatters would be heard flowing through the corridors. It might not be much, however, at least not as silent as now, there was thick tension in the silence making it not as light and peaceful as before when the silence would feel nice with a cute couple cuddled up on the bed, each having their own thoughts in the appealing quietude.
Jasmine had her own reasons to go all cold and distant. She had lost her best friend and she was trying to get used to Ummulkhayr being in the house as her husband's wife, trying to get used to ‘sharing’ her husband. Being a mother was also no fun but she loved it nonetheless and wouldn't mind being one for the rest of her life—or well, it fluctuated, she'd sometimes cried in regret and then later regret regretting being a mother.
She didn't bother that her co-wife lived with her, it seriously made no difference—to her—whatsoever. She wouldn't have time to give a good look at them, talk less of being triggered or even having a conversation with them. She only talked with them when necessary. All thanks to the way Muslim had the house renovated. It was still under the same roof, they however had their respective sides, making their chances of bumping into one another fierce limited.
She knew Ummulkhayr was definitely worried about something. Sometimes her face got puffy and red and her voice sounded so low and raspy when she would evidently want to have a chat with her. She prayed Allah ease and rectify her affairs but see if she cared..
Whatever it was that might be troubling Ummulkhayr and ‘her husband’ she wasn't going to ask albeit the fact that she prayed and hoped for the peace of everyone under that roof and beyond.
"Good morning." Ummulkhayr's broken smile came. She tried to hide her pain behind her radiant smile, oblivious to the point that Jasmine was also a victim, making her pain obvious to her.
"Morning." Ummulkhayr returned kneading the dough on her kitchen island, internally wondering what brought Ummulkhayr to her own kitchen.
"Would mind giving me some flour here?" She stretched out a little container. Jasmine took it and fetched from the bowl she kept aside.
"I made use of the last ounce of flour left for me and I forgot to leave some to dust the surface." She explained in her really light and breathy voice.
"Here." Jasmine handed her the container and d futilely tucked the strands of hair that fell off her scarf with her back palm.
"Let me help you with that." Ummulkhayr offered and went to adjust Jasmine's messy bun before she could protest then tied her scarf securely around her head.
Jasmine smiled warmly, "thanks."
"Thanks for this as well." She lifted up her bowl that contained flour.
"Oh it's nothing." Jasmine waved dismissively.
After a little while of silence, Ummulkhayr spoke, "are you also making croissant?" Jasmine had her dough in a bowl and was covering it with one of the kitchen towels.
"No. I'm making doughnuts." She walked to the sink to wash her hands. She knew, her co-wife wanted to start up and conversation, she decided to go with the flow for once. "Are you making croissants?"
"Yes."
"You like croissant, don't you?" Ummulkhayr turned to smile at her from the sink.
"I do, a lot. It's one of the things I can do best." She beamed, making use of Jasmine's sudden change of mood.
