DARK HORSE: REDEMPTION

Dark Horse : 16

Tasnim tossed and turned in bed, sleep has evaded her as her mind raced with worrisome thoughts and scenarios. It had been hours since Khalil left the house, and he still hadn't returned. Anwar had followed him, but lost track, and his calls went straight to voicemail. Now, at 3 a.m., and Khalil is still missing.

Tasnim seethed with a mixture of rage and devastation. How could Khalil conceal his true nature from her? He knew her dislike for smoking, yet he still deceived her, hiding his bad habit behind a charming facade. She had always thought him too good to be true, and now she realized her instincts were right.

His seemingly perfect attitude, and pretentious affection had all been an act. He had manipulated her, exploiting her trust with his pseudo-sincerity, pretending to be different from other men. Alas, Khalil was everything she feared - and worse.

The mysterious tattoo on his forearm only deepened her unease. Where had he gotten them? The inkwork seemed unusual. Two triangles, connected by swirling lines, and cryptic foreign words written beneath them, which radiated an aura of foreboding.

Tasnim sighed, shedding the covers as she rose from bed. She padded into the ensuite, emerging seconds later to prepare for prayer. She sprayed the mat facing the qibla, then wrapped herself in her jilbab. Settling onto the mat, she began her nawafil, losing herself in prayer. Her sujjud stretched on, her hands aching as she supplicated. Just as she lifted her forehead, the door creaked open.

Tasnim continued her prayer, despite the sound of footsteps echoing against the hard floor. But her composure wasn't due to bravery, rather it was the familiar scent of Khalil's perfume that wafted in, calming her racing heart. If not for that scent, panic would have seized her.

After completing her prayer, Tasnim said her salam, then began another rak'ah, seeking solace in the familiar pattern.

Finally, she rose from the mat. She felt Khalil's gaze upon her, like a gentle caress or a weighted scrutiny—she couldn't quite tell.

Tasnim folded the jilbab and mat, setting them aside. She then walked to the opposite side of the bed.

" Tasnim, " he called out, his voice low and husky.

She heard him, but chose to ignore it, instead focusing on dusting the bed before settling onto it. The silence between them was thick with tension.

" I'm sorry " Khalil apologized, his words barely above a whisper.

Tasnim kept her eyes closed, her silence a stubborn wall. Khalil gazed at her back, her tense shoulders showing her inner turmoil. He sighed, sounding defeated as he rose from his seat. He retreated to the ensuite to ready himself for bed.

***

Khalil and Anwar settled onto the lounge, the TV humming in the background. But neither paid attention to the screen. Khalil's face was buried in his palm, his mind racing with jumbled thoughts. Anwar sat beside him, silently offering comfort and support without speaking.

"Your wife is upset with you, and mine is upset with me because of it," Anwar said, shaking his head. "Is this life balanced?."

Khalil chuckled, a low, humorless sound.

"I don't know, man."

Anwar leaned in, curiosity etched on his face. "What happened between you two, anyway?."

Khalil's eyes narrowed slightly, in surprise. He assumed Anwar was aware of the heated argument between him and Tasnim. But Anwar's words hinted otherwise.

"Didn't Tasnim tell you?" Khalil asked, his tone laced with curiosity and a hint of unease.

Was Tasnim's silence a choice, or had she genuinely decided not to share the information with them? Khalil thought .