Strings Attached

~Chapter 15~

Two years. 

That's how long it took me to update this book.

I had dreams and plans for it... In fact, I still do. But I don't know if they'd ever come true. 

Allāh Grant me strength, Aameen! 

This chapter isn't the best, but it's all I have right now. I'm sorry 😔

______

Manchester, England.

(Hidayah Ali)

I haltingly walk towards my mother's room, dreading making any noise, lest she rebuffs me before I can even get in. The minute I reach her side, I take a part of her dupatta in my hand and tug on it to apprise her of my presence. She simply looks away in response.

Tears spring up my eyes and my throat constricts. A mere movement of her head has had my eyes stinging, then what would her words cause me to feel? Yet, I try again.

"Amma...! I..I'm sorry," I whisper as a lone tear falls on the end of her dupatta I've been tugging on, and is lost into the fabric. "Hum tumse baat nahi kar rahe hain (I'm not talking to you)," I distinctly hear her pronounce her verdict in a noncommittal tone. And I'm left standing at her bedside, broken, as she closes her eyes; wordlessly dismissing me.

The pain of her unforgiving and distant treatment towards me is raw and suffocating, but somehow, I feel like I've earned it. Even Raf thinks that way. And she looks at me with a mixture of pity and disgust in her eyes.

And dadi? She keeps repeating 'I warned you'... and that's just about all she says. Abba has refrained me from going out of the house, and is worried of Amir ever coming to know about it. That's why, he says, he'll marry me off as quickly as he can. Before the information reaches his ears, that is.

Samira feels sorry for me, but that's all she feels. She doesn't know what to believe, so she's careful in choosing her words.

Everyone at home curses the day they allowed me to leave the country. And I sit in my room, listening to them. I'm done defying people, especially my parents. I'm done being a rebel. And I'm done with knowing that I have a will of my own.

Because I don't. Not really, not anymore. From now on, I'm a tethered animal, one that does everyone's bidding, willingly... meekly.

And to tell you the truth, I'm not Hidayah Ali anymore. Because her essence was in her ability to think for herself. And I've lost that. What use was it even, except giving others pain? Look where it brought me to!

_____

When I open my eyes, it's hard to adjust them to the light. My room is flooded with light from the harsh sun rays filtering in through the window.

I rub my eyes open a bit wider and my gaze lands on the dainty legs of the stool straight in my line of sight. I find myself lying on the floor, and I remember guarding the door like a hawk last night, unless anyone (read: someone) forced their way in.

And I realize that I'm not back home. And that it was all just an unsettling dream. But before a breath of relief can escape my mouth at the thought, a certain part of last night hits me in the guts. Not all of it was a dream.

And I know that I'm tainted. With an almost kiss from a drunken guy's lips, on the side of my mouth and my right cheek. Just the thought triggers my stomach to churn and acidic bile to travel to my throat. And I run to the bathroom to throw up.