Imperious

Chapter 11

Take not life, which God has made sacred, except by way of justice and law; thus He does command you, that you may learn wisdom. (Quran 5:32).

Mehrisa calmly combed back her wet hair having just had a morning shower.

She glanced at Nafeesa who was still asleep, curled up tightly in the centre of the bed. Her failure at yesterday's court proceeding set her in a trance of mourning. After returning, she had bound herself to her bedroom, refusing to eat or interact with anyone. It was the first time in which guilt had struck her and she was not able to overcome the powerful sensation it brought.

Mrs Kulachi had done her best to comfort her and Parissa was consistent with words of motivation but Nafeesa opted to sleep instead and Mehrisa decided to lay by her, massaging the tensions out of her head.

It was only now that she had woke upon realising it was half eight and that they may be reprimanded for waking up so late since breakfast was in the process of being served.

She turned on her blow-dryer and ran it through her brown tresses, hoping that the incessant noise would wake her sultry sister.

Nafeesa rose steadily, slamming her pillow against the wall. Her eyes travelled towards the clock stationed on their desk. 8.40. She furrowed her brown in confusion. No one had come to wake them. Not even Parissa or their mother.

"Mehru!"

Mehrisa switched the hair dryer off and began to rap its cord around the body, "Salaam ."

Nafeesa slid off the bed and limped towards her, pins and needles had numbed her feet, "Mehru, no one woke us up."

The door was unlocked very suddenly.

Mehrisa rose.

Mrs Kulachi stood in the doorway, still in her bed clothes. Her eyes, her best feature, were reddened around the rims, her eyelids puffy. She ran a finger over her quivering lips as if wiping away a crumb.

Mehrisa glanced at Nafeesa and then back towards her grandmother.

Nafeesa pressed Mehrisa's palm softly and continued to stare at Mrs Kulachi. Their grandmother was the child of a film director, she could hold up facades with ease. But this morning was different. Her head was lowered, her body limp as if having lost life. She looked across the bedroom and then at them again before opening her mouth very slightly.

"Mehrisa... Nafeesa..."

Mehrisa furrowed her brow. It was the first time in which Mrs Kulachi had pronounced her entire name. Nobody usually did. It was either 'Chhoti' or 'Mehru'.

"Nano, is everything okay?" said Nafeesa, "You seem-"

"You've woken up late."

"I know, sorry-"

"It's breakfast time," she announced, "Get down before your Daadi tells you off."

Mehrisa advanced towards her for an embrace but by the time she could reach out, Mrs Kulachi was out of the door and into the hallway.

"Something is wrong."

Mehrisa felt her chest tighten. There could only be one thing wrong.

Zubeda was rooted to her prayer mat.

Marwah stood over her, holding a glass of water, half full. The other half had been spilt over the floor.

Nafeesa and Mehrisa flooded into the bedroom, slamming the door against the wall with such force that Parissa dropped the cushion she had hidden her face into and Marwah managed to spill the rest of the water she had had in the tin glass.