Muslimah in love

5. 6 months anniversary

DON'T FORGET TO VOTE AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! JAZAKALLAH/THANK YOU!!!

I came back home from work early today, cleaned the house and got the cooking going. I wanted to have a special dinner tonight celebrating out 6 months together. Work was crazier than ever now especially with the exam season looming over me but I couldn't miss out on this.  and wore a gorgeous romantic long red dress. I applied crimson lipstick and put my hair into a neat bun. The food was done; classic herb stuffed mushrooms for the starter; a French risotto for the main course and I had bought special large fresh brownies because one thing I couldn't do was bake.  Everything was in place. I lit the candles and the waiting began.

Where was Zaid, he was supposed to be home by now. Again. It was now  becoming a regular thing at our home; the late nights, the failure to pick up my calls and the fact that he'd come home and literally slump into bed, hardly talking to me. Even his kisses weren't like before, now they seemed half-hearted and unbothered. What was going on? But I tried my best and still smiled. I ignored his moodiness and silence and filled it with my own voice instead. I was married to a man who I hardly knew anymore. A stranger. A man who hardly spoke to me and was stuck in his work world instead of the women he was spending his life with, sharing a bed with. It couldn't be another women. It couldn't. I've thoght of that possibility a dozen times but after phoning into his office, he was always there. Anyway, it was completely haraam especially now that he was married. In Islamic countries, a married man/women's adultery was punishable by death. So I knew he wasn't going to risk that. I hoped and prayed anyway.

As soon as heard the front door I got up. Zaid came in, looking rumpled.

’Ah, what's the special occasion?’ Zaid asked looking surprised.

’Our six months anniversary. I thought we’d have a nice dinner-together. I even bought you a girt, don't worry about mine.’ I walked over and handed him a small box. It was half a heart key ring and I had the other half.

'Uh, this is nice.'

'Now you have half my heart.' I smiled at him and waited for a reaction. Awkwardness filled the air.

'Right, I've got stuffed mushrooms for the starter, all freshly cooked by me.'

’Uh, I’ve already-’

’Eaten.' I felt my shoulders slump. I was tired and sick of this behaviour. 'Right. have you blocked my number on your phone or something? Do you ever check the messages I send you anymore?’ Zaid remained silent. God, I felt so disappointment. My life was now one disappointment after another. Novels didn't prepare you for things like this. He was supposed to apologize and kiss my worries away. But no, my blasted husband sat down and blankly looked at me without any regret. This wasn't how the Prophet (P.B.U.H) had treated his wives. His love and affection was clear. Yet, my gorgeous husband was now acting the polar opposite. He wasn't like this in the first three months. What had changed, I didn't know but it was ever since the night I got stood up.

’I'll take that as a no. It only takes a few second to check. All this time wasted. Don't bother apologizing. Sorry means nothing anymore.’ I sighed.

I walked to the kitchen and took out the tray.

’If you're this upset over food then I'll eat it.’ He said coming in. I felt so patronized. I slammed the tray down.

’No. You don't have to. I'm just going to give it to our neighbour who will be much happier to eat it than you. ’

’Hold on, you're upset I didn't eat it and now I want to, you don't want me to eat it.’

’You dont get it do you? its not about eating the food.  Its about eating it together. Do you not like my cooking?’ I looked at him and folding my arms.

’Of course I do.’

’Then why don't you eat at home instead of outside all the tim-’

’Oh can you just shut up.  All you do is nag at me. Nag, nag and nag some more. Why do you think I avoid you like a plague. I get it, your a teacher but you don't have to treat me like one of your students..’

I looked at him astonished and hurt by his angry words.

’That is not true. I try hard to make you happy, but you're never at home anyway. I don't nag. I just ask you whether you have eaten, why your home so late, why you don't pick up or phone me. Is that what you call nagging? Me, trying to care for my husband. Have you gone off me? Do you want me to stop? ’

’No.’ A simple word but what did it mean. Zaid ran a hand through his hair.

’No to what?’

’Im going to bed.’

’Zaid, we need to talk and sort this-’

’I just came back from work. I am fucking tired. Leave me alone!’

I stared at him horrified. What was happening? We were so happy and three months later it was turning into a  complete disaster. I turned around unable to look at him.  My own parents had never shouted at me like that. I fought my tears as I slowly packed the French risotto away. A pain started in my stomach.

The dress all wasted. It felt too tight and I couldn't breathe. I  felt sick, so sick. I needed to vomit. I ran to the bathroom and puked my guts out. I couldn't stand vomit. I suffered from Emetophobia. I felt closed in and the smell made me feel even more sick. I slumped down, weakened by all the vomiting.

'What's wrong?' Zaid appeared at the doorway. Looking concerned and worried.

'My stomach hurts.' I looked a mess and I felt so embarrassed and I closed my eyes, trying to make the nausea disappear.

'You better not be pregnant.' The harsh words condensed into me. I opened my eyes, not believing the cold words that I heard.

'What did you say?'

Zaid gulped. 'You heard.' 

'You bastard.'

I crawled and quickly slammed the door as hard as I could. Sobs broke out of me. Tears thundered down my cheeks. I had never felt so lost and broken like I felt now. I couldn't live with this man. I needed to get out. I missed my family. Zaid was supposed to be my family but clearly he didn't want me to be a part of his. Oh Allah, please help me.