A Delightful Tragedy

05. Secret

U M È M A' S     P O V

"Why are you making such a big deal about it? I'm not leaving you." I scolded my brother, who was acting more sentimental than I'd expected, making me feel emotional too.

"Not yet, maybe," he muttered under his breath, looking away. "Someday, you will."

"If only you knew," I thought to myself, fighting back my own rising emotions.

"Stop being dramatic, Fahad," I said instead. "She has a husband to get back to. Now, shoo." Nada intervened, grabbing my hand and pulling me forward.

"Uh, Nada?" Fahad called out as if he'd forgotten something.

She turned, eyebrow raised. "What now?"

"Just, uh...come back soon."

"Oh-ho-ho!" I teased, unable to resist. "Isn't someone feeling clingy?"

Fahad fumbled for words. "I-I just meant that... Shariq's waiting for you. If you keep chatting with me, he'll get bored." His excuse was pitiful, but I couldn't really blame him. Nada had been busy all day, and any husband would miss their wife.

"Ha-ha, don't worry!" I laughed, teasing him. "I won't eat her up! She'll come back, safe and sound."

"That's not what I meant," he mumbled, his ears turning red.

"Alright, Ummi, let's go." Nada tugged my arm, urging me onward. "It'll be fine."

I bit my lip, uncertain. "Honestly? I'm not sure."

Nada squeezed my hand. "You'll be okay. He's your husband now." Her reassurance was meant to comfort me, but it only made my chest tighten. The reality of it felt more overwhelming than I was ready for.

We finally reached the room where Shariq was supposed to be waiting. The door was closed, and for a second, I hesitated, afraid of the unknown behind it. "I'll leave you here," Nada said, glancing down the hallway. "Your Romeo's probably impatient by now."

I groaned. "Nada, don't start!"

"Alright, alright!" she laughed, giving me a little push towards the door. "Oh, and listen—when you call me, bring Azra and Mira, too, okay? They're worried about you as well."

I nodded, taking a deep breath as she walked away, undoubtedly back to her husband. Standing in front of the door alone, I steeled myself. "Okay," I whispered, "just go in."

But the moment I tried to open the door, I tripped, colliding forehead-first with it. "Ow!" I muttered under my breath, cursing myself for the clumsiness. Just then, the door swung open.

"Uméma? Are you okay?" Shariq stood there, looking mildly concerned as I rubbed my forehead.

"Nothing that concerns you," I snapped, pushing past him into the room while he stood there, clearly confused.

"Uméma, I—"

"Don't you dare say my name with that filthy mouth of yours!" I cut him off, my voice rising as I pointed a finger in his face. I was so furious that I hardly knew what I was saying. Before he could respond, I stormed further inside, pulling him with me and slamming the door shut.

"Will you at least let me explain?" he asked, clearly exasperated.

"What explanation could you possibly have, Shariq?" I demanded, tossing my veil onto the bed in frustration. The scratchy fabric had been bothering me all day, and now, without it, I could finally breathe a little easier.

"Maybe if you actually listened, you'd understand," he replied, struggling to keep his voice calm.

"And what's there to understand?" I shot back, venom in my tone. "How do you explain being a complete traitor?"