After the storm

3. Messy (Inaya)

The ride back home was incredibly peaceful and serene. Aria had to leave due to a work emergency, and as she departed, a tranquil silence enveloped the car. William played a mesmerizing poem recitation on the radio, and the soothing, mellow voice of the reciter filled the atmosphere with a sense of calm. I always found poems to be more soothing than songs; instruments never quite resonated with me. William drove with careful attention, periodically checking in on me to ensure I was feeling okay. It seemed like the night could have been the most peaceful one in weeks until an unexpected phone call shattered the tranquillity. The caller ID displayed an unknown number, and I hesitated to answer, but after the third ring, I reluctantly picked up. For reasons I couldn't quite explain, I felt compelled to put the call on speakerphone rather than holding the phone to my ear.

"Hello, is this Inaya Ahmad?" a very haughty voice spoke. It was a voice I knew from before. This voice belonged to none other than Jenny. We had enough past interactions to recognize each other's voices. William too knew this voice. He stopped the car carefully at the roadside, where it was safe to stop.

" As-Salamu Alaykum. Yes, it's Inaya speaking," I answered, my voice steady despite the storm raging within me.

"It's Jenny. Why haven’t you divorced Abraham? Do you think you can have him back after all this? Let me make it crystal clear, Abraham will never return to you. Not while I'm alive," Jenny's words slashed through the air like a dagger.

I remained silent, refusing to dignify her with a response. Engaging with a home wrecker would only tarnish my dignity.

"Is that all, or do you have more venom to spew?" I retorted, my voice laced with ice.

"How dare you act so superior? You're just a used-up-"

Before Jenny could unleash her full arsenal of insults, I abruptly ended the call, unwilling to subject myself to her poison any longer. Despite my resolve, a flicker of curiosity danced within me, but I quashed it ruthlessly. I took a deep, shuddering breath, steeling myself against the onslaught of emotions threatening to engulf me.

Just as I began to compose myself, another call pierced the air. This time, it was no unknown number; it was my husband—or rather, the man I once called my husband—Abraham. William, sensing my turmoil, silently exited the car, granting me the privacy I needed to confront Abraham.

With trembling hands, I accepted the call before it could slip away unanswered, bracing myself for the tempest that awaited.

"As-Salamu Alaykum," I greeted him like I always do.

"Wa ʿalaykumu s-salam. How are you?"

I almost snickered at his question. How did he think I was after what he did to me? The audacity to ask how I am!

"Cut the crap. We're not in a situation to exchange pleasantries. Why did you call? Did you suddenly remember you have a wife, whom you suddenly said you would divorce?" My emotions slipped up. With him, I couldn’t pretend. I hadn’t mastered that yet.

"I know I did you wrong. But Jenny, she's with a child. You should be nice to her. She called you to apologize, but you lashed out at her! She’s crying nonstop. Please don’t be like this to her. Moreover, I'm your sinner. Take it out on me."

His words made me laugh. I laughed with tears in my eyes. This is the man I loved, the man I trusted. Two years of marriage, and he believes another girl over me. This little he knows me. My blood boiled with rage.

"I won’t talk to either of you. Wait for my lawyer to call. He’ll be the one you talk to."

"Inaya, listen, I—"

I brutally cut the call. I wiped the tears on my cheeks, but more and more rolled down. I couldn’t control them. I felt William’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t look at him. I was too messy to look at anyone right now.

I don’t know how long I cried, but finally, I calmed down, tired from all the tears. William was still standing outside. It was a December night, cold and chilling. I suddenly worried he might get cold. I called him on his phone as a gesture to say he could come back to the car now. He obliged. In two long strides, he was back in the car. He took a minute before starting it. It was silent again, but this time without the poems or the peace.

"If you want to talk about it, I’m all ears," William said in his usual deep voice. I didn’t want to talk. Nothing comes from talking about it, but my heart slipped before my brain could stop it.

"Talk about it? What’s there to talk about? How do I feel like my whole world just crumbled because the man I devoted myself to for two years couldn’t keep his promise? How does he think his new girl’s tears matter more than the vows we took? The vows he shattered without a second thought? It’s not worth talking about, William. There’s nothing to say that will make this pain go away."

I stopped, the dried tears dampening again. It was way too painful that it almost made me breathless.

"You know, I've always held a deep respect for others and their choices. I can forgive those who hurt me, whether it’s physical or emotional pain. But there's one thing I've despised since I was very young—cheating. It’s a betrayal that’s left me scarred. Despite my religion permitting men to marry more than one woman, I could never accept it because of my personal experience.

I made this clear to Abraham before we got married. I didn't force him; he willingly promised he would never take a second wife. We even included this promise in our marriage certificate. He signed it willingly back then.

But he broke that promise, committing the worst act of betrayal I could imagine. He knew how deeply it would affect me, how it would rip apart my trust and sense of security. Yet, he did it anyway. Because of him, I feel utterly humiliated and devastated. This betrayal cuts deep into my soul.

I know Allah knows best, but this pain is unbearable. It has shattered me. I can only hope that Allah grants me the patience to endure these hellish feelings."

My words hung in the air, the rawness of my emotions filling the silent car.
William didn’t say anything either. It was the normal reaction. There was nothing he could say to soothe my pain, and maybe he knew it too. He just drove, offering his presence as a silent comfort. I closed my eyes, leaning back in the seat, trying to find some semblance of calm in the chaotic storm inside me

"You kept faith in Allah for this long. He won’t disappoint you. Maybe in the future, you’ll get all the love you deserve. Maybe Allah wrote someone better for you," he said, his voice steady and comforting, as he pulled up the car in front of my house.

I was wrong. He could say something that soothed my heart. In this hopeless time, none but Allah could help me.

His words lingered in the air, a beacon of hope amidst my despair. I took a deep breath, letting the warmth of his optimism wash over me. Maybe, just maybe, there was a future where this pain would be a distant memory, replaced by the love and peace I deserved. William’s words were a reminder that, even in my darkest moments, my faith could guide me to brighter days.