Too Little, Too Late

31

When the clock hands moved from 5:59PM to 6:00PM, Ayra smiled humourlessly. Feeling disappointed but not surprised, she pushed herself off the loveseat in the family lounge and looked away from the paintings on the wall; paintings that reminded her of just how much of a pathological liar her husband was.

She went straight to her room and picked up the jersey veil she'd left lying on the armrest of her loveseat. Her hands moved naturally, from years of doing the same routine over and over, and she draped the veil over her cap-covered head, throwing the longer end over her left shoulder and leaving the shorter end to fall forward, over her chest.

She then looked down at her outfit and thought about how differently she would have felt had everything not become the way it was. It was the first time in a long time that she was dressed exactly like Ibrahim; a thick sand brown long-sleeved turtleneck as the weather was colder, cream coloured wide legged trousers, and a matching cream coat that she was yet to wear. Her veil was black to match the boots she'd already dropped down in the foyer, right beside the small box she'd packed for the indefinite time she'd planned to stay at Haven Estate.

If things weren't as they were, she would have been happy – ecstatic even – that they were going to be matching. However, in that moment, all she felt was the same coldness that had been eating at her heart – what was left of it – little by little. There was no happiness and if it weren't for the fact that she needed the comfort the outfit provided as her period had arrived earlier than planned, she would have dumped it for something else.

She made a stop in the walk-in wardrobe simply to check her reflection. Just like every other time the house was empty, her defences were down and the woman who stared back at her was the Ayra she was still coming to terms with; the Ayra who was now starting to stand on her own although she did so wobbly, the Ayra that had more of rage on the days she didn't feel numb as she wondered just how much audacity Ibrahim and the Hexad squad had, the Ayra who still felt hurt when she thought about little things that used to matter, the Ayra that still had a part that thrived on fear concerning what she was yet to uncover, the Ayra that the masjid community now loved...All of it was in the woman who stared back at her through the mirror.

Exhaling, she turned away and spritzed a new perfume she'd gotten before she switched off the lights and left the walk-in before leaving the room as a whole. She went to Ibrahim's room, knowing better than to spend more than a minute in there. If she did, her rage would return and the last time it'd hit her with an intensity that threw out all sense of reasoning, she'd renovated the house just so she could derive deliciously petty happiness from destroying everything Bella did. The apartment's new interior was nowhere near the dream home she'd wanted but knowing that it affected them all, especially Ibrahim made her very, very happy.

The fact that his room was still everything Bella wanted annoyed her a lot but she had better things to do. She was going to ruin his room, that much was certain, but until she found it in herself to do so, she was going to have to push down the rage that came each time she stepped into his space.

The keys to the Telluride were on the top of the table in his sitting area and Ayra easily picked it up, leaving as soon as she'd done so. She'd originally planned to get a Ryde but seeing how he'd decided to stay out for hours after leaving with the squad without his usual lies or texts, she decided it wouldn't hurt to take the car. She deserved it.

She switched off each light as she walked, heading down with no rush. The painting in the living room held her attention for a near minute and she put it at the back of her mind to get the handymen to move it a little further apart so the space between both canvasses became wider. She needed it to disturb Ibrahim even more as that was the least thing he could think about after all the lies he'd told and the lies he was still telling.