UNENDING

5- Lemon Shortcake

-ASIYA-

The scent of lemon zest and vanilla filled the kitchen as I carefully mixed the batter for the lemon shortcake. Each stir of the spoon was a meditative act, an attempt to soothe the anxiety that had settled in my chest like a heavy stone. Baking was my solace apart from reading; it helped that Al-Qasim loved sweet treats. I didn't offer him a plausible excuse last night, and the guilt of my unspoken truth weighed heavily on my mind. I knew he deserved an explanation, but I also knew the shortcake was my way of trying to make amends and bridge the silence gap with something sweet and tangible. 

As I poured the batter into the cake tin, smoothing the top with the back of a spoon, I heard footsteps behind me and took in the scent of Jamila's favourite perfume. My heart skipped a beat, and a familiar sense of dread washed over me. I turned to see my sister standing in the doorway, her face set in its usual mask of indifference. "I'm staying here for a few weeks," she announced flatly. "Mama and Daddy have gone on one of their trips, and I'm uncomfortable staying home alone."

My stomach twisted into a knot. The last thing I needed was my sister here, especially now. Her visits always brought a storm of chaos and fear into my life. I tried to muster a smile, but it felt like a grimace. "Of course," I replied, my voice trembling slightly. "You're always welcome here." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, much unlike the sweetness of the cake batter.

I continued to work on the shortcake, my hands moving automatically while my mind raced. I could feel her eyes on me, scrutinizing every movement. "You're making a cake?" she asked, her tone laced with something that sounded like mockery. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

Jamila had always known how to undermine me, to make me feel small and insignificant. Her presence was like a dark cloud hanging over my head, and I could already feel the tension building. The memories of past encounters with her flashed in my mind, each one more painful than the last. I wished I could turn her away, but the fear of her wrath was too great.

She moved to sit at the kitchen table, watching me with a hawk's gaze. "You seem nervous," she remarked, a cruel smile playing on her lips. I forced myself to meet her eyes. "Just tired," I said, hoping she would drop the subject. But of course, she didn't. "Tired from what?" The question stung, but I swallowed my retort.

I focused on the cake, determined to finish it despite the growing unease in the room. I whisked the cream for the filling, replaying the events of last night. This house was suffocating enough, but with her here, I felt even more trapped.

As the cake baked, filling the room with its warm, citrusy aroma, I tried to imagine a way through the next few weeks. I would have to be on guard constantly, walking on eggshells around my sister, trying to keep the peace in a house that already felt like a cage.

When the timer finally went off, I pulled the shortcake from the oven, its golden surface a small triumph on an otherwise bleak day. I could only hope that this gesture would bring a moment of peace. But as I glanced at Jamila, still seated at the table with that insidious smile, I knew my respite would be fleeting. The real battle was beginning, and I wasn't sure if I had the strength to endure it.

"I'll show you to your room while the cake cools," I say, walking towards the door. 

She hisses before standing. "Took you long enough. You ought to treat your guests better, especially when they have the information that will make your marriage come undone."

My heart drops, and I grip my dress. She snickers as she walks behind me towards the staircase. "Carry my box," she says, passing me and heading up like she owned the place. Wordlessly, I drag the heavy box behind me and haul it up.