A walk on thorns

Chapter 66| Second In A Week!

Anisha's POV

It was nine PM, and the tension in the house was palpable. Aunt Saudah and Aunt Haseena had left in a storm, their parting words a declaration that they would not sleep in a house where they were so "disrespected." The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards. Everyone seemed lost in their private corners of misery, weighed down by a storm of emotions and unspoken grievances.

How could we not be "disrespectful"? How? Their rejection was a blow I hadn’t expected to sting so deeply. When I decided to come back home, I had braced myself for a battle of sorts, but never had I imagined the divide would be so raw, so unrelenting.

If this had been a story, I might have scoffed at the author for the melodrama, dismissing it as far-fetched. Who, in real life, wakes up one day and decides to systematically destroy another person’s life for no discernible reason? And yet, here I was, living it. If Mukhtar wanted to come for me, I thought it would be over those pictures,evidence of my imagined sins. But who could predict what schemes he and Nadeera were plotting next, especially after Sabrina had made sure Nadeera would never forget her fiery humiliation?

The first assault had already landed, a warning shot across the bow, the looming possibility of him freezing my account. He knew, as I did, that being turned away by my parents left me without a safety net. If he succeeded in cutting off my financial lifeline, he would have me at my most vulnerable.

Sabrina, ever the strategist, had anticipated this. “Transfer everything to my GT Bank account,” she had said earlier, her voice calm but firm. “We’ll leave just enough to avoid suspicion. The rest can wait until tomorrow.” We’d acted swiftly, moving what we could before hitting the transfer limit, and saving the rest for daylight. It was a small step, but it brought a flicker of reassurance in the midst of the chaos.

Lost in thought, we both stared blankly ahead, the weight of our plans and the uncertainty of tomorrow pressing down heavily. Then, a small sound broke through the stillness. Rubina stirred, her tiny body flinching as she drew a deep breath. The noise startled us both, yanking us back to the present.

For a moment, the room shifted, its oppressive weight replaced by the simplicity of her innocent movement. Sabrina leaned over and adjusted her blanket, her expression softening ever so slightly. But she was still uncomfortable.

Sabrina's POV

The way Rubina lay on the mattress was unsettling, her delicate chest rising and falling with a rhythm that didn’t feel right. I tried to convince myself it was just exhaustion, but a gnawing worry ate away at the edges of my thoughts. I glanced at Anisha, who was sitting nearby, her face still etched with the weariness of the earlier confrontation. I didn’t want to add to her burden, not when her spirit was already hanging by a thread.

Rubina suddenly drew a heaving breath, her tiny legs flinching as though something heavy pressed against her fragile chest. Anisha’s instincts kicked in instantly. She leaned over, her hands trembling as she felt Rubina’s neck and forehead.

“Sabrina, her temperature is insanely high. Touch her,” Anisha said, her voice taut with worry.

Subhanallah. The moment my fingers brushed Rubina’s skin, it felt like I had touched the scorching surface of molten iron. Panic flared in my chest.

“Anisha, this girl is burning up! She’s sick, really sick. We need to do something about it!” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but the edge of fear was unmistakable.

Anisha’s wide, tear-filled eyes met mine. “Naziya said her prescribed drugs were in her trolley,” she whispered, her voice quivering.

Without waiting for further instruction, I darted to the corner where the trolley was parked, my hands fumbling through its contents with desperate urgency. My thoughts raced faster than my hands, what if this was worse than a fever? What if this was something we couldn’t fix?