Muslimah in love

14. Change

There was no sisters circle this week. So, I was going home a little earlier than usual. Thank God for that. Today I felt beyond exhausted. We had gone on a school trip-to a theme park. All the screaming and adrenaline rush had added to my exhaustion. I was so not going to be cooking today. Sorry Zaid, no dinner for you, I thought as I  texted him to pick up his up his own dinner. For myself, I bought a nice foot-length turkey sub from Subway. I sat munching on the train home, I didn't care about the people staring at me. I was starving. I tried to look busy as I ate with one hand and scrolled down my phone in the other. There was something aloof about the British people. I mean, we all see each other, the same people, the same faces everyday. It was as if everyone zoned into robots when commuting to work, no one ever spoke to each other or smiled, however looked bleak and grim.  People read on their kindles, listened to music or just dis something on their phones. When I first moved, I smiled and said 'good mornings' etc. and all I got in return were looks saying' are you crazy' or I simply got ignored. I guess most people weren't morning people. Now, more than a year later, I had become one of them, I felt too tired to do anything and simply just enjoyed the calm, ride home unless there were people shouting into their phones. Picking up a call; That's one thing I never did on public transport.

So why didn't I use a car? I mean, I knew how to drive but women being bad drivers, I lived up to that stereotype. I felt panicky when I was in the driver's seat; particularly when buses and lorries surrounded me. I felt suffocated. Back, when I lived with my parents in the little town where the streets were bigger and less congested, I couldn't ever imagine using public transport, but how things changed. In London, you're much better off using public transport even though I hated it. Cars: you'll be waiting in the traffic jams that go on for miles and hours, along with having to pay the extra congestion charges.

 I opened the door and smell of beautiful food crept into my nostrils. Instantly I felt suspicious. The lights was on. I hardly came home this early and Zaid was always home after me. So, what was he doing home so early? Was his secret girl here, in my house, in my space? Who was cooking? Jealousy raged inside me. I only announced my intention for a divorce a few bloody days ago! I was ready to catch them red-handed, in the act.  I was ready to punch the daylights out of them both. I was ready to have a huge bitch-fit. I stopped and called myself down. I calmly crept towards the kitchen and stopped, aghast by the scene in front of me. My heart started racing and panic stormed in.

'What on earth are you doing?'

Zaid stopped, dead in his tracks. He looked up and surprise shot through his face, and then looked at his watch. ''Salaam Your early..

'So are you.' I pointed out. 'What are you doing?' I repeated.

'Its not as bad as it looks.'

 My beautiful kitchen looked like a hell hole.  I had left so perfectly neat, orderly and sparkling and now... Bits of food, bowls, measuring jugs, cutlery were spread anywhere and everywhere. and in the midst of it all was Zaid. A very cute-looking Zaid who had flour on his hair and some sort of paste on his forehead. How'd that manage to get there? I felt like kissing him, strangling him and laughing all at the same time. But I kept my face as straight as I could. 

'It looks pretty bad to me. Are you cooking?'

'Yes, I am and I'm pretty awesome at it too.'

' Where did you learn how to cook?' I asked leaning against the counter.

'Food tech.'

'And How many years ago was that?' I snorted and smiled at his adorable, and boyish expression.

'Hmmm, come to think of it. Pretty long time ago. But I had to cook at university and I was good.. Don't judge by...' he stopped and looked around, finally realising the mess he had caused,