𝐙𝐀𝐈𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐀𝐌 ~ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 ♡

38 - Reflections of Us

The days leading up to the final exams were a blur of late-night study sessions, coffee-fueled mornings, and frantic, whispered discussions in the university halls. The whole group-Maryam, Fatima, Amr, and Zaid-found themselves in the same frantic rhythm, the pressure mounting as the exams loomed closer. But even with all the stress and tension, there was an unspoken understanding between them, a bond that kept them going, even when the weight of their futures seemed too heavy to bear.

It was late in the afternoon, and the small study room at the university was filled with the familiar sound of pages turning and pens scratching on paper. Fatima was sitting cross-legged on one of the bean bags, her laptop open in front of her, headphones in, blasting music to block out the chaos around her. She was trying to prepare for her business exam, but her thoughts kept wandering, especially when the looming deadline of graduation was on her mind.

Amr, on the other hand, was pacing back and forth, his long fingers running through his hair in agitation. He had been stressing about his music theory exam for days, but somehow, the more he studied, the more he felt like he was missing something crucial. The nerves were getting to him, but his friends knew how to keep him calm. A few sarcastic remarks from Zaid usually did the trick.

Zaid sat in his usual corner of the study room, the dim glow of the desk lamp casting long shadows over his scattered papers. His mind was focused on the architecture project in front of him - the angles, the proportions, the math behind it all. He liked it that way. Precision, order, control. His eyes were bloodshot, but his focus was unwavering. As always, Zaid was the one who managed to stay calm amidst the chaos, even though the stress was clearly getting to him too.

Maryam's thoughts drifted back to the present as she stared blankly at her open notebook. The morning's conversation with Aziz echoed in her mind like a loop. She figured things were going to be alright, that's why she had called Aziz. He would know what to do. Aziz would never do something that made her go against her decisions.

She had always been independent, focused on her studies, her future, but now it felt like the whole world was trying to pull her into a path she didn't choose. She hadn't asked for any of this. She just wanted to finish her degree in peace.

There's a reason she didn't call her Baba. They haven't really spoke much for the past few years. They'd grown apart. He stayed shut up in his room, most of time and in the mornings, went to work with Aziz. Even when she visited Abu Dhabi a few months back, he only engaged in small talk with her as if she was nothing to him at all.

Fatima, who had been quietly noticing the silence , looked up from her own notes and gave Maryam a concerned glance. "You okay?" she asked softly, knowing something was off.

Maryam gave a tight smile. "Yeah, just tired. These exams, you know?" But Fatima wasn't fooled. She could sense the tension in Maryam's voice, the way her gaze flickered to the window, avoiding any real eye contact.

Amr, ever the playful one, chimed in with a lighthearted joke, trying to break the mood. "We all are," he said, but his eyes were kind when they met Maryam's.

Maryam shook her head slightly, clearing her throat as she forced herself to focus. "Sorry, I'll be fine," she muttered, picking up her pencil again, but it felt mechanical.

The rest of the study session continued in silence, each person retreating into their own world of books and formulas. But Maryam couldn't stop thinking about the Malliks. And then, Adam. His face lingered at the edge of her thoughts. She still wasn't sure how to feel about him, or what had happened between them at Zaid's birthday party. He'd barely spoken to her since, and yet, his presence now seemed unavoidable, with his mother pushing for something she didn't want.

As they packed up to leave the study room, that evening, Fatima touched her arm gently. "You don't have to make any decisions yet, okay? We're here for you, no matter what."

Maryam nodded, appreciating the quiet support. But as they walked out into the hallway, her phone buzzed. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the caller ID-Aziz. She walked fastly now, waving Fatima with a "I'll talk to you later."

She quickly excused herself in a nearby empty classroom. She pressed the green button on her phone and answered,

"Assalamu Alaikum, Aziz. Did you speak with Baba?"

The whole reason she'd called Aziz that morning was because he was the only one who still got the access to Baba. Well, more than her anyway. He would be able to make Baba understand. However, Aziz's voice doesn't sound promising.

"Wa alaikumussalaam, Maryam."

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a deep sigh. "I spoke to Baba again," Aziz said, his tone tight with frustration. "He's still not budging. The Malliks called again. This time, they want to set up a meeting right after your graduation."

Maryam closed her eyes, leaning back against the wall. "What did you say to him?"

"What could I say?" Aziz snapped. "He's convinced this is the best choice for you. He's already grieving, and... I don't know, maybe he thinks he's doing the right thing. But I told him-no, I yelled at him-that this isn't fair to you."

Her chest tightened. She could imagine her father, sitting in the same chair he always occupied in their home in Abu Dhabi, silent and unmoved by Aziz's protests.

"I tried, Maryam," Aziz had said, almost whispering. It wasn't because he didn't want to yell; he just didn't want to break down. "I tried telling Baba that this isn't what you want. But he's... stubborn. He thinks this is a good match for you. A prestigious family, secure future, yada yada."

Maryam clenched her jaw, willing herself not to cry. She wasn't one to show her emotions easily, but this was too much. "He doesn't even look at me, Aziz," she had replied, her voice cracking. "How can he decide my future when he's avoided us both for the last ten years?"

Aziz exhaled sharply on the other end. "Because it's easier for him that way, Maryam. You remind him too much of Mama. Of everything he lost."

"That's not an excuse."

I know," Aziz said, and she could feel the weight of his own burdens in his tone. "But it's been ten years. Ten years since we lost her. And I think Baba's convinced himself that doing this is a way to make peace. Like if he secures your future, he's somehow done right by Mama."

Maryam's grip on the phone tightened. "Aziz, I'm not ready for this. I have plans-work, career, independence. How can I trust his judgment when he can't even face his own children?"

Aziz had fallen silent then, but the static in the background spoke volumes.

"And what do you think, Aziz?" Maryam asked, her voice trembling.

"I think it's ridiculous," he said without hesitation. "You're not a pawn to be traded around. I don't care how good the Malliks' reputation is. You deserve to make your own choices."

Maryam felt a lump rise in her throat. She gripped the edge of the desk, her knuckles turning white.

"He said yes, didn't he?" she whispered.
Aziz was silent for a moment, and that silence told her everything.

"He said yes," he admitted finally. "He agreed to the meeting. Zainab Malik and her husband Omar Malik will come to Abu Dhabi with Adam after your graduation."