The Red Rose

5. Ink

And she who knows about everything is dead. But the dead don't speak.

The city was echoing with the sounds of merchants and sellers in the bazaar. From the windows of her chamber's, Alijah could see the vibrant market coming to life. It was a scene she had witnessed countless times before, yet each morning brought with it a sense of anticipation and wonder, as if the city itself held secrets waiting to be discovered.

She still remembers her mother's velvety voice that she heard in the mornings, coming to her chamber with a warm smile and waking her up. The kingdom felt empty without a queen, it felt sad. Alijah always thought that her mother couldn't get justice, that some people spoke for her but their voices were never heard. But after the last conversation with her father, Alijah thinks otherwise, maybe her mother was also at fault that's why she never got justice, because she was never in the place to get it. Maybe the people who stood against her had a point, a reason.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

She wishes that it's all lie. And to satisfy her unreasonable thought, she's finding clues that maybe will lead to the truth. She will only believe everything if she got proof. Without a solid reason she is never going to blame her mother. Just because someone said it.

After finishing the breakfast kept infront of her, Alijah washes her hand in the pot of water. Gathering her dress she exits her chamber, Rehman following her silently. He didn't speak anything analysing the princess's mood, as she was already battling her own thoughts.

Alijah intakes a long breath standing infront of her mother's chamber. A breath for courage to get inside and meet with the dead silence of an untouched room, that was once full with life and laughter of her mother. She asked Rehman to wait outside until she arrives.

Opening the door she looks at the bedsheets, curtains, tables and chairs, the large furnitures cleaned by the servants just for formality. And the other decorated pieces, books and wardrobe, still having layers of dust. She never entered this room after her mother's demise, it was hard to accept the truth. And until now she's just climbing on her father's strength and courage. Seeing his face and his ability to handle everything by himself gives her motivation.

She takes baby steps towards her bed, imagining her mother sitting there, probably reading a book. Because that's what she loved to do every time. Or sitting at the chair writing something in the old notepad, or standing in front of the large mirror, correcting the creases of her dress.

Alijah smiles sadly remembering her, and all those moments forbidden in her heart. But suddenly a thought in her brain clicks.

'What did ammi write about in those notepads.'

Alijah without wasting a second started hunting for the notepad, for clues, secrets, anything. She meticulously scours through the wardrobes, drawers and bookshelves. Her search came to a sudden halt when she found an old wooden box that was obscured securely under the layers of clothes in her wardrobe. She slowly took it out, closed the wardrobe and sat on her bed with it. She opens it with a feeling of guilt deep in her heart, for going through her dead mother's secret things. She silently apologizes and opens the box, her heart stammering inside her ribcage in the process.

And there it was, a small worn out and old notepad lying with an inkpot and a peacock's feather, with some pieces of jewelry and Alijah's anklets from her childhood. She smiled widely with tears in her eyes, touching the anklets lightly, nostalgia hits her hard but keeping the emotions aside she sobers up and finally goes for the notepad.

The first page had 'Zora' written beautifully in Arabic. Alijah traces the ink 'it should be at least one year old' she thinks, convincing herself. The next page mentioned "Salim is angry" Alijah furrowed her eyebrows looking at the sentence. No date nor any explanation. Just a phrase, that was filled with her mother's feelings. She turns the page.
"I don't want Kareem to be like his father" Alijah looks closely at the next line that was cut, not clear at all.
She reads the next page. "Alijah looked beautiful, she ...."  And this sentence was incomplete.
She continues reading "Ibdis advised me to go back to my father, for that's better for me, but who will look after my children than?" She read that again, "Ibdis" Alijah mutters to herself. "Who's Ibdis?"
She was about to keep the diary back, but a word stole her attention. She goes straight to that page. "Zeher said his son and Alijah would be a perfect match."
Her blood boiled at the name, Zeher. She glared at the ink, as if it would burn right in her hands.
She was about to turn the page but a sudden knock caught her attention. There was a guard standing at the door, she recognised him, he's mostly with Sultan.

"Amira, entry in this room is forbidden, I request you to leave." He says formally.

"It's my mother's room." She exclaims, the notepad under her knee as she sat just with the jewellery infront of her.

"I'm sorry, I'm just obeying the Sultan's orders." He says and forwards his hand to the exit, a sign for her to leave.
She tucks the notepad in her belt, covering it with her long wavy hair, without letting the guard notice her move. And kept the box on the table before leaving.

She thought the notepad will solve her tangled thoughts only to get them tangled further. She reaches her belt after entering her chamber and found nothing.

'The notepad. I lost it!'

She checks again and goes back to the way her footsteps were before, and found nothing again.

'Maybe It fell somewhere in Ammi's room'

Convincing herself that she'll find it later, she comes back to her chamber and tiredly drops herself on the bed. Revising everything she read in her mind.

Something was wrong. There's more to it.

'who's Ibdis?'

'why mother didn't want akhi to be like abbu?'

Questions were increasing but no answers, no solution. She has to find an end to it, she herself has to solve it.

She rises up from bed suddenly, eyes round out of shock? Or surprise? Or confusion?

'why ammi and abbu lived in different chambers? Shit.'

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Ibdis?

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