Too Little, Too Late

40

Wanting to get away from everything as her act was starting to crumble, Ayra descended the stairs of the mansion and hurried out through the main doors. The front of the house was empty as every single person was at the rear gardens and Ayra was so focused on getting to the fountain that she didn't realise someone was walking in her direction, admiring the mansion with a smile on her face.

Both women collided into each other and the glass of wine the other woman held fell to the ground, cracking on the side that took the impact while the red liquid spilled. Both women jumped back, avoiding getting the liquid on their dresses and Ayra's apology rushed past her lips.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I should have –"

The female Fahad raised a hand. "You should be sorry." Once she was sure her dress was not soiled in any spot, she let her hand drop and raised her head. "You should have paid more attention to where you were going."

Ayra's throat dried and she was thrown back to the previous year when the Fahad women came over to her parents' house without any prior notice to discuss hers and Ibrahim's wedding. The woman who stood in front of her in that moment had the same face – just a younger version – of the same woman who'd said "Is this the family Ibrahim's marrying into, Fareeda? Because we can honestly do better".

"Are you just going to stand there, gawking?"

Ayra snapped out of her head and managed a small smile. "I should have paid more attention to where I was going. I'm sorry."

The other female said nothing and made a show of dusting her dress's hem. She stopped halfway and with slightly furrowed brows, she looked at Ayra again. When the realisation dawned, she raised a brow and her lips curled up in a smile that raised the hairs on the back of Ayra's neck.

"Well, if it isn't my cousin's wife." Her smile stretched. "Ayra, right?"

Ayra nodded once. "Right. I apologise, I don't recognise you."

The other woman flipped a wrist in dismissal. "Of course you won't. I've never met you. Never saw the need to do so when I didn't approve of Ibrahim marrying you. I still don't approve by the way but the deed's been done so..."

Ayra wasn't sure there was more she could take; not when she had cracks everywhere and wounds that weren't even getting the chance to heal before they were torn open again.

"But for introduction's sake, I am Maryam Fahad, the daughter of Kenan and Sabeeha Fahad. You should have met my mother." Maryam folded her arms, still smiling in the way that didn't sit well with Ayra. "She let us know just how well the first meeting with your family went. Like her, I think Ibrahim, Aunt Fareeda, and Uncle Salim could have done better than you. But then again, maybe that's what they get for constantly rejecting a woman like Bella. Serves them right and it sucks to be you, Ayra. It really sucks."

Ayra told herself to turn around and keep walking but her body felt like lead; as though it wasn't hers and she was living out someone else's story. No one in the Fahad family – no matter how they judged and looked down on her – had told her they didn't like her as Ibrahim's wife to her face but here Maryam was, doing exactly that. It hurt Ayra, even more than the reminder of her being second to Bella had done.

"I know that must seem harsh to say," Maryam continued. "But I've never been one to mince my words. Neither have my mother and father. You already have one experience with my mother so..." She then sighed. "How's marriage treating you, Ayra? Surely by now you should know that you're Ibrahim's trophy wife, right? Ibrahim, in his right mind, won't marry someone like you but desperate times do call for desperate measures. When I heard about the crazy plan they'd come up with, I was all for it. I'm sure you know about it now so you don't have to pretend around me or around most people here. You're nothing but a woman to be shown to the public as Mrs Ibrahim Fahad but between you and me, we know who the real Mrs Ibrahim Fahad is."