A Match Made In Jannah

Chapter 50

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This chapter is dedicated to Husna and Firdous, both of whom are the only reasons I am sitting here, typing a chapter, while I have an Afrikaans exam tomorrow.

HUSNA'S POV

Maariah and I both turned our heads towards him in utter shock. He was known to overreact, but never to the point where he made rash decisions.

"You heard me," he growled. "Get. Out."

Danyaal intervened. "Abba, please. She made a mistake but Allah is most forgiving and you should be too."

Her father shook his head and repeated those words solemnly. Then, in a fit of rage, he began pulling out items from her closet and dumping it into a backpack that she had left on the floor. Underwear, bras, a few abayas and scarves, and some tops with tights were flung into the already bulging bag. He handed her another bag, and filled that with cosmetics. "Take whatever else you want," he commanded. "Take everything. You're not coming back here. Today you have proved that you are not my blood."

Suddenly, my mind, my body and my tongue unfroze and I spoke confidently. "Where is she going to go to?" I asked.

"I don't know, and I don't care," he replied, then flung the bags out of the room.

Maariah's mother, in the meantime, had ascended the stairs and her eyes filled with tears. "Bibi, not now," my uncle said.

"Where am I going to go, daddy? Please daddy please," Maariah pleaded. She repeated her pleas over and over again, calling her father daddy, just in case her vulnerable words and tone would make him soften up. "I have a baby with me. Don't do this, Daddy. Husna, say something. Tell them to let me stay. Punish me, hit me and hurt me but don't do this to my baby."

"Okay Maariah. You asked me to intervene right? You want me to say something?" I smiled at her. "Oh don't look so worried darling. All I'm saying is that if you were willing to dig your grave, don't cry when you have to lie in it. Did you hear your father then? Leave. I said leave. He said leave. Get. Out," my eyes narrowed as I spoke.

"You're chucking me out of my own house? Please. If you don't want to have a little sympathy for my child, at least my brother will. Danyaal?" she laughed humourlessly.

Before Danyaal had a chance to speak, his father placed a hand on his mouth and roared, "My words are final. No one dare challenge me. Do as I say Maariah."

"Darling no, please. She's your daughter. Your only daughter. Have some mercy. Have some mercy," Aunty Bibi wailed. She ran over to Maariah and clutched her sobbing daughter in her arms.

"No means no. Maariah, leave before I physically kick you out."

"You'll never understand a mother's love. This is my daughter. I raised her with my own hands. She came from me. She's a part of me. Don't take a piece of me away," she said as she caressed Maariah's cheek.

Her father, now fed up by the continuing argument, simply picked up the bags and stormed down the stairs. We all trailed behind him. He dumped the bags just outside the doorstep, and then turned to Maariah. "LEAVE. You are a disgrace to the family name. You took away our izzat. You are no longer my daughter. You hear that, Bibi? She is no longer your daughter either. Danyaal, if you try and call her or help her, there will be serious consequences my boy. She isn't your sister anymore either. Husna, I'm so sorry that I didn't do this sooner." Then, he pulled Maariah by the ears and shoved her outside, where she landed on the gravel with a thud. Her tear-streaked face looked up at me pleadingly, and I turned away. I had always been vulnerable to a person crying, and now was not the time.

Her father slammed the door and bolted it from inside. "I want you gone in the next ten minutes," he said, loud enough for her to hear. "Danyaal, since you happen to be such a devoted brother, the numbers you phone and message will now be sent to my phone. I want you to never contact her. Oh, and you'll use my car from now on too. I need to track your whereabouts."

We heard Maariah slowly make her way out of the driveway and onto the road. It was only then that I allowed myself to remove the mask of bravery I had put on. I buried my head into Danyaal's chest and sobbed. Not pretty, girly sobs, but big, snotty gulps that sounded as if I were drowning. In actual fact, I was. I was sinking deeper and deeper into an ocean of unhappiness and I didn't have any way out.

I listened to Maariah leave. Each step seemed forced, and the sound of her shoes on the stones mimicked that of my heart.

The sound of my fragile heart as it shattered into a million, tiny fragments.