echoes of defiance (Rewriting)

chapter 15

Just then, Abba’s voice broke through the tense air like a lifeline. "What is happening here?" His tone was sharp, and I could see the anger in his eyes—a side of him I had never seen before. My heart dropped at the sight, and without hesitation, I rushed to him, hoping for a way out.

"Abba, Daddy said to take Zain. Please, talk to him, please," I begged, the words tumbling from my mouth, my grip on his sleeve tightening in desperation. My chest felt heavy as I tried to keep my emotions in check, but the fear of losing Zain gnawed at me.

Abba sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "Farhana, I’ve been trying to keep things together. Why didn’t you just listen to your father? Even if it was just for a moment? Even if it meant pretending?" His voice was calm but laced with disappointment. "Your Amma and Usman have told me everything. I will try to speak to your father, have him listen to the boy. But please, stop defying him. Don’t make him angrier than he already is."

The disappointment in Abba’s eyes pierced through me. Tears welled up in mine as I clung to that faint hope that Zain wouldn't be taken away. "Abba, his father isn’t here. We’re all he has. Please, you have to help him," I whispered, my voice trembling.

Abba’s expression darkened. "Zaki gida ko se ranki ya baci ne?" he snapped, his voice now tight with impatience. His sharp words felt like a scolding I couldn’t escape, and I bit my lip, nodding as I slowly turned away. My feet felt heavy as I walked towards Amma’s room, each step burdened with dread. Five long, torturous minutes passed before I heard Abba call for me from the living room.

I hurried back, my heart pounding in my chest. As I stepped into the room, my gaze immediately landed on Zain. He stood there, silent, his face unreadable, but I could feel the weight of his tension. His shoulders were stiff, his hands clenched into fists by his side.

Abba gestured for me to sit down. He looked at Zain, his expression firm but patient. "Zain, speak now. Or you will not get the chance to speak to her again. We need to hear everything."

Zain’s eyes flickered to mine for a brief moment, but there was something distant about him. He drew in a slow breath and began to speak, his voice steady but carrying an invisible burden.

"My name is Nahyan bin Safwan bin Nayhan Al Qasimi of Qatar," Zain said quietly, his words measured but powerful. "My father is the only male heir of my grandfather, the eldest among his twenty-one children. My mother was Sheikhah Mahra bint Rashid of Morocco."

The weight of his words seemed to freeze the room. The silence that followed was so thick, I could almost hear my own heartbeat. The revelation felt like a bomb had just been dropped. My mind struggled to grasp what Zain—no, Nahyan—had just said.

"I don’t know why my father was exiled," he continued, his tone now more subdued, tinged with an almost painful uncertainty. "That’s something he’s never told me. That’s why I haven’t mentioned anything until now. I believe he will explain everything when he returns."

For a moment, there was only silence. The kind of silence that felt suffocating. My eyes darted between Zain and Abba, the air too still, too charged with the weight of Zain’s confession.

Abba’s reaction mirrored my own shock. His eyes widened in disbelief, and for the first time, I found myself genuinely curious about the significance of Zain’s—or rather, Nahyan’s—name. The revelation had shaken something loose inside me, a gnawing need to understand more about who he really was.

Abba cleared his throat, finally breaking the silence. His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. "I will speak to Abubakar about this," he said, as if talking to himself as much as to us. "In sha Allah, he will listen to the two of you." He offered a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "For now, I ask that you only communicate through the phone... Layla and Majnun."

The reference to the star-crossed lovers made my heart flutter slightly, but it did little to ease the tension. Still, I managed a small, shaky smile in return.

"You may go now," Abba added softly, his voice returning to its usual gentle tone. "Allah ya muku albarka, ya tabbatar da alheri." May Allah bless you both and grant you goodness.

I nodded and stood, my legs feeling weak beneath me. As soon as I reached my room, I sank onto the bed, my hands trembling as I grabbed my phone. I needed to know more—I had to understand the gravity of what Zain had just revealed. Quickly, I typed the names he had mentioned into the search bar.

The screen filled with results, and my breath caught in my throat as I scanned through them. My mind reeled with the information before me.

"Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un," I whispered, staring at the screen in disbelief. I searched the second name, and when the results appeared, my heart raced even faster. The phone slipped from my fingers, landing on the bed with a soft thud.

I stared down at the phone, my chest tightening as reality hit me like a tidal wave.

"What have I gotten myself into?" I muttered, barely able to process the enormity of Zain’s—or rather, Nahyan’s—true identity. Everything I thought I knew had been turned upside down. The boy I had fallen for was so much more than I had imagined. His life, his heritage, his secrets—they were all far more complicated than I could have ever anticipated.

And yet, despite the fear and the uncertainty swirling inside me, there was something else—something stronger that kept me tethered to him.