Accepting You

Chapter Fifty Three

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. "Don't. Cry." Asiya forced out the determined whisper through her teeth.

Not now. It couldn't be now. Fatimah was still standing on the platform parallel to her. Her hands were flapping from side to side, mimicking a happy movement that demanded reciprocation, no matter how bad Asiya felt.

Asiya had managed to play the role of the happy, pleasantly relieved peer up until now. She couldn't let her mask slip off now, not when the curtains were about to close.

As the train wheezed closer to the platform, Asiya raised her hand above her head. Her hand wasn't steady. It shook violently above her, and each spasm resulted in a sting pressing at the back of her eyes, but Fatimah was too far away to notice.

Fatimah got onto the train, flattened her cheeks against the glass door, and waved enthusiastically until the train pulled away.

Asiya turned around and began making her own way home. Her feet were moving with the same urgency from earlier but under a different motivation.

She didn't want to cry out here.

The train was the faster option home. The metal wheels could outrun the tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

But Asiya didn't want to be on a train when the dam keeping her emotions at bay broke, and her body collapsed in on itself. She didn't want to be surrounded by strangers. Although she was going home before the London rush hour flooded through the stations and spilt onto the streets, the school kids who dominated the stations at this time were equally as strange and probably more merciless.

All it would take was an accidental punch from a young, obnoxious elbow to puncture a leak in Asiya's fortress.

Asiya wanted to cry at home, but the way her eyelids were drooping from the pressure building up in her tear ducts that didn't seem likely. So, blending through strangers with bleeding eyes was the next best thing. She would practically be invisible amongst the crowd as she walked home.

Asiya drew in a jittery breath, pushing down everything she could and exhaled before she tapped out of the station.

Why was she even upset? The situation was being handled. Asiya trusted Kerry. She believed Kerry when she'd said she'd get something done. So why was she still upset?

Gouge was going to get his day in court. Unlucky for Asiya, they no longer drew or quartered people, but if she was right in her thinking, if the procedures meant to be followed were, an immediate dismissal from a prestigious company with no references was basically the same.

Asiya was getting justice. She was getting what she wanted. Gouge's head would no longer be parading around the office unless it was on a stick.

Was she upset because justice wasn't being served by her hand? Not exactly, and that wasn't exactly true.

So why are you crying, Asiya? Her brain was demanding an answer.

Because she felt inadequate. She hadn't been good enough. Her actions weren't good enough. They hadn't been the right ones.

What had she even been thinking, cannoning through the office like that? Did she really think a messy scribble of words would be better than a steady, clear hand?

That was the issue, she hadn't thought. Asiya had allowed herself to be pulled by her emotions like a dog on a leash, and now she was walking home with her tail in between her legs.

-

Asiya placed her key on the counter. She had floated through the city like a ghost, not registering her steps until her feet had stopped at her front door.