Bookworms | ✔

sixty-six

When his phone rang the next day, Nicholas could only roll his eyes as he answered the call. "Yes, Mom?" 

"Nicholas," she acknowledged curtly. "I suppose you know the reason for my call."

"Do I?" 

"Come now, son. That article requires some immediate action against your wife. If she were any other person, your father would have sued by now."

His brows furrowed as he continued to stir his coffee. "For what? You want to sue a journalist for an opinion? I hope you realize that the Supreme Court already ruled on what is considered libel and what isn't." 

Nicholas knew his parents' fury raged like the howling winds of a haunted night, like the bristling of a twisted treeline. The horizons glared down at them with sharp, scrutinizing stares, his family's business falling under the public eye along with many other major enterprises. 

There were talks about whether private businesses should be regulated by the government or if the country turned a blind eye towards corruption. Students organized in protests, talking about the abuse of power in any form and the detrimental effects of corruption in an American society. All this was sparked by one girl's article, one woman's voice, one Muslim's passion for change. 

Dina ignited the flames, and she was willing to get scorned for it. 

"How dare you?" his mother shrieked into the phone, her heartbreak evident in the shrilling drop of her voice. "After everything we have done for you as your parents, you decide to rebel. I tolerated your marriage, but this has gone too far, Nicholas. Your wife is scheming against us, and you allow her."

He sipped his coffee, testing the steaming liquid in his mouth. More sugar, he thought with a grimace at the bitterness of his liquid. Ironic how the bitter taste lasted like the coldness of his heart towards those who "raised" him. 

Nicholas weighed his options silently. Although her words dug under his skin, he knew his anger could not win the battle, not when his mother was determined to crush his spirits by attacking Dina. She was his Achilles' Heel, the one that could destroy him if her safety was ever endangered.

However, Nicholas understood the game of business all too well. He lived and breathed it under his parents' wings, and at that time he was terrified of the players and their sinister joys. No longer would he fear anyone else. That was the past, and this life now was his present. 

Allah, help me stay strong, Help me be the man that Dina will be proud of. Let me protect her from the backlash. Ameen.

"Well?" his mother pressed impatiently. "Will you take care of this problem or not?"

"My wife isn't a problem."

"She certainly caused some."

"And whose fault is that?" he remarked, taking another long sip of his drink. "Maybe you need to reevaluate your business before you attack my wife."

He heard her gasps of exasperation. "Are you that wrapped around her finger? She should learn to speak and write cautiously now instead of blabbering like a child about things she doesn't understand. Honestly, who does she think she is-"

"Enough," he said, voice stern. "Mom, give it a rest already. She's your daughter-in-law whether you like it or not. You don't like her for personal reasons not because of who she is."

"I hate her."

"You don't even know her!" he exclaimed, forcefully putting the mug on the counter. His fingers threaded through his blonde mass of hair, untamed and wild like the anger that whisked around his chest. "Dina does not need to be controlled. She is free to do what she wishes because that is the right that Allah gave her. If she writes an article you disapprove of, oh well, get over it."

She bitterly laughed. "Oh, Nicholas," his mother said is a poisonously sweet voice. "Do you have no idea how women plot to gain an upper hand in this world? You come from a wealthy family, and she's targeting us. Seems a bit suspicious, doesn't it?" 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "The only thing suspicious here is you," he muttered under his breath.

"Nicholas," she said pointedly. "Try to understand where I'm coming from."

"I've tried to understand you my entire life, and look where we are now. Maybe it's time to understand me and the life I've created for myself with an incredible woman that I have the pleasure of calling my wife."

"I will never accept her after this," she fiercely argued. "She is not a daughter-in-law of the Muller family, not while I'm alive."

Nicholas didn't know how to respond to the venom that laced her voice, the sheer fury that seeped off her tongue. There was so much hatred towards Dina that he couldn't comprehend any of it.

If only his parents heard her laughter, seen her smiles, watched her hard work blossom into the beauty that only her presence could bring. His heart only swelled with pride at the thought of Dina, yet his parents could only see a vile shadow in her wake.

Nicholas sighed deeply, his arm rubbing his shoulder in comfort. "You won't even give her a chance, Mom? Not even for your only son?" he asked in a broken whisper. 

"No."

"I pray that Allah guides you one day," he said, hanging up. 

The phone was clutched between his fingers tightly as he leaned against the counter, his thoughts elsewhere. Sure there was a minor victory in that conversation where he was able to speak to his mother without the past darkening his vision, yet now a new problem rose among the ashes. 

A small, shaking breath caught his attention, dread pooling within his abdomen. Nicholas glanced up, witnessing his precious Dina hiding in the hall towards their bedroom, her glassy eyes twisting a knife into his heart. 

She heard everything. 

----

Man, my neck is killing me. We went to a wedding last night, and my debate coach roasted the groom, so the rest of us debaters were laughing, and he stared at my friend and I and goes, "Don't worry. I got a whole lot prepared for you." 

I was like O.o R.I.P. my soul.

Isn't Nicholas adorable? Btw, thank you for the sweet comments on the last chapter. Summer's been rough in terms of work. I don't say it enough, but thank you for being patient with me.

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