Scarred For Life

Chapter 69

*
Twenty two years prior, on a quiet and somewhat uneventful day, Adnan had barged into the house with a vengeance in his eyes. Their mother had been sitting on the veranda with an old notebook propped up on her laps, and she looked up sharply when he entered.

"Umma, I'm going to break Nafisa's stupid head open," he'd said, his bottom lip trembling.

"What's wrong?" she'd asked, setting the book aside to tend to her little boy who was on the verge of tears.

"She went to the neighbors and told Farouk that I still wet my bed every night," he'd said, trying and failing to stem the tears. His mother had reached out then, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling him in for a hug.

"Don't worry," she'd said. "Nafisa just enjoys telling lies. How could you ever wet your bed at your age? You're a big and strong man. She's clearly delusional."

Adnan had cried into her neck, sniffing and gulping for air. Somehow, nestled in the arms of his mother, he felt better instantly. At ease. It was almost as if the ridicule from earlier had never happened. He was still mad at Nafisa, but he trusted his mother when she told him not to worry.

All was well.

Now, several years afterwards, he remembered that day as he arrived at his father's house. This time however, he hadn't come here with a silly complaint about Nafisa or anyone else. This time, he come with a righteous anger. It wasn't for himself that he barged into the house so ferociously that he nearly kicked the door down. It was for the woman he loved; the woman whose life had been destroyed by the vicious man who called himself his father.

"Where is he?" Adnan asked, refusing to meet his mother's confused gaze.

She'd been watching a cooking show, the remote dangling in her hands while she muttered to herself. She'd looked up instantly the moment the door flew open, the remote clattering to the floor then.

"Adnan?" Confusion etched all across her face, she stood up slowly. "What's going on? When did you return?"

"Where is he, Umma?" Adnan asked, trying to keep his voice in check. Here was another woman whom his father had tormented his entire life. She was a victim, same as his wife. The realization seared another pang of hatred in his heart.

"Adnan, what is the meaning of this?" she asked. "What are you talking about? Who exactly are you talking about?"

He stormed off, heading straight down the hallway. If he remained in the room for much longer, she might reach out and hug him again, and his anger would dissipate just like before.

And that was the last thing he wanted.

Yusuf was poring over a newspaper when Adnan kicked the door open. He didn't even flinch, stoic as he always was. His eyes darted towards the intrusion however, and one eyebrow shot up.

"Have you lost your mind?" he asked calmly, spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose. Adnan didn't wait to hear another word from him. In a split second, he dug his fingers underneath the table between them, flinging it aside in one swoop. Yusuf's laptop clattered to the floor, as did a dozen other files as well as his favorite mug.

"How could you?" Adnan said bitterly, teeth clenched and eyes ablaze. "How could you be so cruel and vile? How heartless are you?"

Yusuf's gaze shifted to the upturned table, the newspaper still held tightly in his hand. He was still unbearably calm, and the sight of him so relaxed made Adnan want to punch him right in the face. He had no right to be so calm when he was raging inwardly.

His mother arrived at the doorway then, gasping as her eyes fell on the mess in front of her.

"Adnan, what has gotten into you?" she asked, one hand covering her mouth in shock.