A walk on thorns

Chapter 34| Life Goes On

Sabrina's POV

It has been a solid eight days since Mama and the Aunties made their abrupt and unwelcome appearance. The atmosphere in the house remains oppressive, if not even darker than before, and yet I, too, have changed. In these eight days, I have become someone entirely different, someone unrecognizable in the dynamics of this home.

When I told Anisha I was done with her and her endless marital chaos, I don’t think she believed me. It was clear she thought my words were a fleeting outburst, expecting me to eventually return to her with my usual litany of advice and sisterly support. But I didn’t. I refused to engage in anything that would lead to a conversation with her or even seeing her for too long. It wasn’t malice, it wasn’t hatred, but I couldn’t bring myself to be friendly either.

Our interactions dwindled to the barest exchanges, limited to curt greetings or monosyllabic "yes" and "no" responses when she pressed to speak to me. For the first two days, she seemed to revel in the aftermath of our hurtful encounter, as if she had won some hollow victory. But when she realized I was serious in my silence, her attitude shifted. She tried to initiate conversations, attempted to provoke reactions, but none of it worked. I knew she was frustrated, and I knew she was hurt, but reacting to her wouldn’t resolve anything. If conflict had the power to change things, it would have done so long before now.

What broke me the most, though, was ignoring Rubina. That little girl was my heart, my source of joy in this suffocating house. Yet, she was Anisha’s daughter, and I knew her mother would seize any opportunity to use her as a means to get to me. I couldn’t risk it. I lost count of the times Rubina knocked on my door, her small voice pleading with me to open it. Sometimes I just sat there, listening, tears streaming down my face. I loved her so much, and I pitied her even more. But everything was far too complicated.

The day before yesterday, Rubina sat outside my door for what felt like hours. Her small voice cracked as she compared me to Elsa, shutting her out like Anna in the movie she adored. “Every day I come here begging you to open the door, but you won’t,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m Anna, and you’re Elsa now.” The words broke me. I nearly opened the door, but the fear of what would follow held me back.

I confided in Abdul Majeed about it, sobbing into the phone about how much it hurt to cut Rubina off for the sake of peace in the house. He tried to console me, encouraging me not to shut her out entirely, but I knew better. As much as I hated the torment, I feared the consequences of any misstep.

The emotional torment finally came to an end yesterday. Anisha cornered me in the hallway on my way to school, desperation etched across her face. She begged me, pleaded to at least consider speaking to Rubina if I refused to talk to her. Her voice cracked as she spoke, and I nodded, relief surging through me. Deep down, I was ecstatic. I almost jumped with joy at her permission, though I kept my composure.

Later that day, I went to Rubina’s room and apologized. I explained everything in a way her young mind could understand, ensuring she wouldn’t hold her mother accountable. She forgave me with tears in her eyes and begged me never to do it again. That night, she stayed in my room, and we made up for lost time, laughing and talking until we both drifted off.

With school now in full swing, I have Abdul Majeed to thank for his unwavering support. He was there for every step, submitting forms, navigating bureaucratic red tape, and running between offices with me. His presence made everything smoother, as his influence and charisma seemed to command respect in every office we entered. While we couldn’t secure a hostel room yet due to space constraints, they assured us I’d have a spot by mid-semester or the second semester when some students graduated.

Abdul Majeed didn’t stop until he was certain everything was in place and my transition into school life was seamless. With his help, I’m fully prepared for lectures to begin next week.