Midnight Echoes (ONLY PREVIEW)

Chapter 22

"I'm overwhelmed. So help me."
~Qur'an 54:10

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"Sister." The gruff voice had said. It was hurried, but clear. It was so clear Azizah could not have mistaken it. There was no way on earth she'd miss that voice; she'd recognize it even if she was awoken from death. It had grown husky now, and deeper. But it was still the same, belonged only to him. And it'd referred to her as sister. Only one person on earth called her that!

"Nasir?!" Azizah called into the phone, clutching it tightly with both of her hands, as if afraid that it would fall of and crash, crash away with his voice. "Are you okay?! Where are you?!" She enquired panickly. She raced to the door and came back, sat on the sofa near Yusuf and instantly stood up again, as if she was repeatedly pierced with a pin.  

By now, Yusuf and Laylah had stood up as well; the former, dazed, and the latter, confused, scared.

"That's not important now," Nasir's voice came through, this time more hurried and a bit lazily. She heard a movement at the other end, like a grunt from someone in pain. But before she could say a word, he continued. "Listen, Aunty Laylah is with you right?"

Azizah glanced at where Laylah stood and nodded her head vigorously, as if Nasir could see her. "Yes yes she is but..." She answered, wondering why her brother was calling her five years- almost six years since he'd left home, only for him to be enquiring about Laylah.

And how did he know Laylah was with them? Did he even know where they were?

"She's in danger. And inevitably, you all..." Nasir spoke, bringing her out of her pool of thoughts. Azizah heard the grunt again. And right that moment, she did not know whether to cry in pain, or pass out of the confusion her brother had just flung her into.

"What are you saying, Nasir?" Her voice broke. "I don't understand. Ya Allah! I don't understand a thing." She appeared to be speaking more to herself now. She flopped on the sofa frustratingly, still clutching the phone to her ears, sobbing.

"It's Daud," his voice was grave. "He's sworn to get her back. And he's determined to be brutal."

"Uncle Daud? Why... do you..." But Azizah could not complete her sentence. There was a loud, thunderous sound at the background. Then the line went dead.

*~*~*

"Suraj? A timmini na?" Are you done? Hajiya Sa'a called impatiently from the driveway as she adjusted her thick, blue Pashimina veil over her headscarf, flung her handbag over her shoulder.

The door creeked open to reveal a bored-looking Suraj, with his phone, wallet, and sunshades held clumsily in hand. He looked somewhat disoriented, agitated.

"I don't know what you were still doing in there. I told you we have a long day ahead of us." She chidded, addressing Suraj who'd bent over to tie the laces of his shoes.

He stood up now, shoved his wallet and phone into his pants' pocket. Hung his spectacles on his shirt's neck. "Ma, I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Well, where are your car keys?"

He furrowed his brows. "I am driving?"

"What, you want me to pick a driver and roam around town with him from one store to another on a Saturday, while you, a grown up man, sits comfortably at the back?" Hajiya Sa'a shot her brows up, as if to question the sanity of her son. Suraj grunted like a child would, and went back to pick his car keys.

He just could not understand why his mother insisted he went with her for the shopping of the kayan usey-usey- the post-engagement clothes for the soon-to-be bride, which, accompanied with kolanuts, sweets, and salt, are taken to the bride's house by the groom's family. They usually consisted a couple of Ankara wrappers and laces, veils, shoes, handbags, cosmetics, and undies; and are given to the bride's family as a token, an appreciation from the groom's family for regarding them worthy of giving them their daughter's hand in marriage to their son. The kolanuts, salt, and sweets would be shared in small potions and distributed amongst relatives and friends alike, as a sign, an indication that a daughter had now been officially engaged to a certain man, and hence, deterring other men from further seeking her hand as well.