Scarred For Life

Chapter 40

*

The curtains were drawn shut, as they always were. Somehow, though, a few inches remained between them so that a sliver of light crept into the room and onto the carpet. Slowly, meticulously, it crawled up the side of the bed as the sun rose higher into the sky until the light touched Afrah's sleeping face.

Her eyelashes fluttered, a soft sound rumbling in her throat as she drew her eyelids open.

She didn't sit up for another five minutes, allowing herself to fully ensure that she was awake before moving. The early morning fatigue still weighed heavily on her shoulders.

Eventually though, she did sit up. Her yawn was silent, and her limbs stretched lazily as she slid off the bed and twisted. A few valuable minutes spent in the bathroom later, she emerged with her face wet and teeth gleaming, her eyes fixed on the same bed she had just vacated from.

It was a Saturday after all.

The early morning rituals were not to be missed, and they included the mostly mundane task of scrolling through the multiple social networking apps on her phone. Somewhere in her subconscious, she reminded herself that she ought to reply the hundreds of messages which she had abandoned over the weeks.

Barely half an hour later, a soft knock came on the door. She didn't have to ask who it was. Her mother had a distinct way of knocking; light and feathery, almost as if she were afraid of disturbing the inhabitants of the room.

"Assalamu alaikum," she peeked into the room.

"Wa alaikum as salam," Afrah replied. "Good morning, mother."

"I rather expected you to be asleep," her mother said as she pushed the door open. "It's only a few minutes to ten."

"I went to bed early last night," she replied.

"And have you prayed Fajr yet?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Afrah replied, recalling the message Adnan had sent a few hours ago. Her smile was demure, her eyes glowing as she read the words again in her mind.

"What's so amusing?"

"Nothing!" she said quickly, realizing she must have looked like a dunce, sitting there and smiling at nothing.

"Do you happen to have any plans for today?" her mother asked as she sat on the edge of the bed.

Afrah pursed her lips. "Not particularly."

"Is Adnan coming again?"

"No," she replied, choosing to ignore the way her mother punctuated the last word.

She supposed it was to be expected. It had been three weeks now since his first visit, but only a day since his last. Over the last three weeks, he had developed the habit of calling at the house every other day. To anyone else, it certainly would look suspicious. But to her, it meant nothing bad or - God forbid - scandalous.

They sat on the porch whenever he came, in the same position as always. Adnan would talk to her about anything and everything. He told her about his work, and - although sometimes absentmindedly - she actually listened. He told her about his stay in Cyprus, and the people there. He told her about his plans to buy another car, a shockingly red Mercedes Benz with over 550 horsepower, a 7-speed automatic gearbox and a 4.7 litre, twin-turbo v8 engine. Afrah didn't know what any of that meant, but she smiled and told him he should, if he wanted to.

Mostly though, she watched him. Not the astounding beauty with which she had come to associate him. That was just something she had come to accept, the same way she accepted that Amir was tall and her father was rather round at the midsection. Granted, there were several moments where she would suddenly become aware of it, and she would stumble or stutter over her words, but she was becoming used to that now.