The Many Layers Of Isabel

Chapter 6 - Reliving It

The blazing sun had no mercy for anyone that afternoon. It was the kind of weather that melted your ice cream soon after receiving it, the kind of temperature that made your forehead trickle with sweat in plain view, the kind of heat that gathered hundreds of people onto the beach. Marwa sat on a wooden rocking chair she had been sent from Italy few years ago. Sipping on cold apple juice, she watched her sisters play tennis in their very own tennis court. She smiled at her sisters’ motivation and competitive nature. Nawal, the older of her 2 younger sisters resembled Marwa the most. She was a mature girl who was slightly stubborn but she had a way of being everyone’s friend. She was always smiling from cheek to cheek. Fatima, on the other hand, was the rebellious one. The one who was excellent at manipulating people for her benefit and probably could get away with murder if she had to but she was honest which was something Marwa always loved about her.  

It had been nine months since she left London and ever since then she had spent every single day in her mansion in Dubai under close observation. She couldn’t leave the premise whenever she wanted to or even wander around their big gardens without asking permission from her mother or worse father. She had been living a prisoner’s life for long months and every single day, her mind was occupied. She thought about London and its freedom. She thought about her friends in university who probably have jobs now or going after their Master’s. She even thought about the grey skies and the occasional thunder that came her way. But nothing compared to how much she thought of him. His green eyes, his ash-blonde hair, his defined cheekbones, his hearty laugh, the way he would always bite his lip when he thought. Nine months it had been since they last exchanged words and never had she stopped thinking of him. Her mind was dominated by him and what hurt the most was that she didn’t even know how he felt. She tried to get into contact with him very early on but there was no reply. No emails, no texts, no phone calls, nothing. She worried a lot. Did he hate her for abandoning him like that? She had told him they would be together. The plan was that he would come to Dubai one month after she left London and they would announce their engagement. Her parents would understand, she prayed, and they would happily go back to London to start a married life together. Maybe even come back to Dubai if they fancied it. None of that happened so far. Marwa was left with her constant thoughts while she was “under arrest” in her own home.

But she couldn’t let her parents know of their engagement alone. She needed Rafael by her side when they broke the news. She just didn’t have that courage. If that wasn’t depressing enough, things went way out of hand. The day she sat in her room, exactly one month after she left London waiting for her phone to beep the three minutes alarm she set was the most horrendous day she had ever experienced. Even worse were the consequences that followed. When her phone decided to beep after what seemed like an era, she couldn’t lift the pillow which was resting on her head, shutting her out from her fate. Allah, help me please she thought as she carefully lifted the pillow from her face. She shut her eyes tight as she lifted the stick. She opened one eye and then the other, looking up at her white ceiling. Then she looked down and saw the double lines and then the shock hit her like a fast travelling truck.

She was numb after that. She couldn’t eat properly, sleep properly, and talk properly. All she could think of was a being inside of her. Her baby. Their baby. She didn’t know what to do. If she told her parents, she would be dead. She knew that. How could she stay in this house with a growing belly? Abortion wasn’t an option. Nothing could make her kill her child. She felt so vulnerable, so lonely. She thought of telling her sisters but dismissed that thought because she couldn’t bear anyone knowing this. After burdening herself with so much, she snapped. She couldn’t take it anymore. She confided in her mother one night, somehow believing she would protect her. She told her everything. She told her about London, Rafael, her love for him, how they want to marry each other. She also told her how he hadn’t gotten into contact with her for months and that she feared for him but was also angered by his silence. Then she told her about her pregnancy. How she wishes she didn’t. Her mother nodded with every sentence she spoke but when she found out about the pregnancy, it was as if all the life was sucked out of her. And the rest was history. She was under house arrest until she gives birth then banished from their family home because she had trampled all over their “pride and honour”. She had apparently stabbed them all in the heart, twisted the knife then pushed it in further.

With only a few days away from her due date now, her mother and the maids would check on her every day. She could see from her maid’s eyes that she felt awful for her but it was her mother’s eyes that terrified her. Her mother was a strong woman. She never let anyone see her moments of weakness or fear. She was always Marwa’s idol, the person she looked up to and the person she wanted to be. But this situation was hard for her mother. She could see the pain in her eyes, the disappointment and the fear. They both knew what was to come for Marwa wasn’t going to be easy but they wouldn’t talk. They would never speak.

When she finally gave birth after an excruciating seventeen-hour long labour, she held her baby in her arms, looking down at her beautiful eyes. They were definitely her father’s eyes. She stared back with her beautiful almond shaped green filling Marwa’s body with a warm sensation. She didn’t ever want to let her out of her embrace. She watched her constantly, in fear of ever losing a precious minute. She was the closest thing she had of Rafael and it felt so good to know that. She called her Ayesha and she loved her like she had never loved someone before. She knew it wouldn’t be long until she and Ayesha would be kicked out of their home and she worried about how she would raise her daughter comfortably. She was grateful to Allah that when she moves out, her daughter would be right beside her and that was enough for her. Her baby could have been taken away from her. Her father could have ordered the social to grab her child from her arms and she would be left all alone with a broken heart once again, a broken heart that could never be healed. After a few days, she left. She hadn’t seen her father since before she gave birth and he hadn’t come to see the baby either. Her mother gave Ayesha a kiss when she left, shedding a silent tear as Marwa held Ayesha in her infant carrier in one hand and dragged her essentials in a suitcase in the other. She bid her farewells to her sisters who cried and cried, begging her to stay. But they all knew that was a wish that never would come true. Outside was a car waiting for her. She had to walk a few minutes because no car was allowed inside their premises. Rashid stood there, with his arms crossed looking gloomy. He said nothing to her when he helped her get Ayesha in the car or when he took her suitcase from her and stuffed it in the boot. He still didn’t say anything when he drove for 15 minutes and Marwa was teary eyed, every so often glanced back at Ayesha who was peacefully asleep.

“What were you thinking?” Rashid asked, looking at her straight in the face for the first time. He tried his best to hide it but she saw worry in his eyes. She stayed silent, not really knowing how to answer his perfectly acceptable question.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. She honestly didn’t know how everything ended up this way. One minute she was in London, enjoying life with Rafael and the next she has a baby and banished from her home.

She and her baby lived with Rashid for a while, until she felt too dependent on him therefore decided to rent her own apartment. Money wasn’t really an issue because she had plenty of it in her name. She built her own little life in Abu Dhabi with Ayesha until she couldn’t take the silence from Rafael. How was she meant to “move on” if she had no idea where things are with him? There had still not been any contact between them and she was clueless where to begin. The hardest thing was yet to come. She walked to Sara, her second cousin’s house that day with a one year old Ayesha in her arms. She had been crying all night and the evidence of that was still clear in her eyes and face. Sara hugged her and comforted her by offering some tea but she couldn’t stomach anything. All she could think about was how much she would miss her baby. She was finally angry and sad enough to retract her steps back to London. She was going to do something that Rafael should have done a long time ago. And then she would return with Ayesha’s father. And if not, she would at least know, however much that would hurt.