A walk on thorns

Chapter 38| A Day Out

Anisha's POV

As soon as the convoy disappeared from sight, I shakily dialed Jalila's number. My fingers trembled with every press, and when she picked up on the first ring, her familiar voice felt both a relief and a provocation.

"Mrs. M.A. Wazeeri, tell me it's good news, or I swear I'll run naked in the street!" she joked, her tone lighthearted as usual.

"Can you be serious for once, Jalila?" I snapped, my voice sharp, cutting through her humor like a blade.

Her laughter vanished instantly. "Are you crying, Anisha? What's wrong? Hope everything is okay?" she asked, her words laced with urgency, the concern in her voice barely masking the undercurrent of fear.

"Okay? Jalila, did you even listen to yourself? How can everything possibly be okay?" My voice cracked, and the tears I'd been holding back broke free in a torrent. My chest heaved with the effort to contain my anguish, but it was futile.

"Anisha, calm down. Talk to me-explain it properly. You're scaring me," she urged, her words tumbling over one another, desperate to reach me.

"Jalila," I began, my voice trembling, "Hajiya came over this morning, and as always, we argued. It got heated, one thing led to another, and..." I paused, struggling to breathe past the lump in my chest. "And Mukhtar dragged me by the hair, Jalila! My charm-knot fell out... all of it!"

The loud gasp that escaped her felt like a physical blow. It reverberated through the phone, amplifying my own despair instead of alleviating it.

"Innalillahi wa'inna ilaihi raji'un! Wallahi, Anisha, you're the unluckiest girl alive!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Haba! Why does nothing ever go smoothly in your life?!"

Her words hit me like a slap across the face. I tightened my grip on the phone, my frustration boiling over. "Before you say it, Jalila, let me remind you of all the times people said I was the luckiest girl alive! And now, you're telling me the complete opposite? That's how you people lie, as if you're descendants of Musailamah Al-Khazzab!" I spat, my voice rising with every word, the heat of my anger scorching.

"What did you just say?" she asked, her voice cold and cutting, each syllable laced with disbelief and venom. "Anisha, if I called you the most ungrateful person I've ever known, I wouldn't be wrong! Do you know how much I've struggled for you? And now that things are falling apart, all you can do is blame me?"

"Because you always find a way to blame me, too, Jalila!" I retorted, my voice cracking as the emotion spilled out unchecked. "What was the meaning of what you just said? I've had enough!"

"You've had enough?" she fired back, her voice rising to match mine. "Your exhaustion doesn't give you the right to insult me, Anisha! And now you're aligning me with a prominent liar? That's an unforgivable low, even from you!"

Her words cut deep, and I faltered. The silence that followed was suffocating. "Fine, Jalila. Have it your way," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. "But just tell me what to do..." My words trailed off as a strange sound crackled through the phone. It was faint but distinct enough to catch my attention. My heart sank. "Jalila?" I called out, dread seeping into my voice. "Oh lord, Jalila, what's going on?"

"How am I supposed to know, Anisha?" she snapped, her tone bitter and unrelenting. "I'm sorry, but it seems like things run smoothly for everyone else, just not for you."

Her words landed like daggers, piercing through the fragile thread of composure I clung to. "Jalila, where are you?" I demanded coldly, my voice low and threatening.