Hasan Ilmas loved his wife. But, he loved her in all the wrong ways. He made too many mistakes; hurt her too much.
This is the story of all the wrong things he did. Should Adinah forgive him because he did them out of love?
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Adinah is in a marri...
I was so silent when I opened the door that he didn't even realise that I had entered.
I just stood there for some seconds taking the feeling in, trying to understand what exactly it was. It was intense, yet unclear. It wasn't nice, but I knew it wasn't unpleasant either.
Soon he acknowledged my presence and turned around. I salaamed him, but didn't move from my position near the closed door.
"Adinah! Walekum Assalaam! I was just going to call you to know where you are."
I smiled. If I spoke, I'd have started crying, and I didn't want to talk about what happened downstairs with aunty Husna. I had limited time with him.
His face now showed he'd realised something wasn't right. "Did something happen?"
He looked worried, and I panicked, searching in my head for a reason I could give him.
"I want my gift," I ended up saying, and then internally cringed at my lameness.
He started laughing. "Of course you do. I'm a horrible husband, aren't I?"
"If it turns out to be a disappointing gift after all of this unnecessary mess, yes. Totally."
"I hope it doesn't," he said, reaching to his pocket again.
I watched mutely, thankful I didn't have to tell him what happened downstairs, as he went on to present yet another white envelope.
"Hasan," I said, annoyed, "I swear by Allah if that's another note asking me to go to Hafsa or something I do not possess the Sabr to read it and go searching through this house - "
"Shh! It's your gift. I did tell you your search ends when you see me, didn't I?" I was instantly relieved.
"But," he said, and I nearly groaned. "Before I give it to you, I need you to answer something."
"Okay," I sighed. "Go ahead, ask."
"How fast do you think you can pack for three days and four nights?"
My mouth opened and I stood there staring at his grinning face, unable to utter a word.
"Seriously?"
He giggled, and then handed me a note. I had a feeling I wouldn't hate this one like the others.
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"I'd appreciate it if you express your gratitude in the car or something, though, we're sort of late."
Late? I looked at the wallclock. There were about seven minutes to twelve. His flight was of twelve forty.
"I can't pack that quickly!" I cried, panicked. It was the only thing I could think of.
"Oh, four days, for Allah's sake, Adinah! Just four. I can pack four sets of clothes within two minutes. And so can you!"
