THE NARCISSIST'S WIFE

Chapter Three: The Outcast

Assalam Alaikum Lovelies!

Finally, our Chapter Three is here! Alhamdulillah. 🤲🏻💕💕💕

I apologize for not being able to update last week as I promised and I doubt it, if weekly update will even be possible all the time 😞.

But the good news is that; be rest assured that I will always, always do my very best, insha Allah, to ensure that the updates are as regular as possible. 🙏🥰🥰

Thank you for all the calls and messages. 🤩🙌 I've been motivated! 😀💖💕💕💖

During the first few days of her job, Zahra made a little or no effort to know anyone around her, while most of the other new employees were eager to know everything and everyone in their departments, Zahra kept to herself, she focused on her job and hid in her cubicle like a snail in its shell. However, it didn't escape her notice that people at the company were like a close knit family.

It was said that the saddest part of betrayal was when it came from whom you least expected. Zahra pondered over how the closest person to one was the one who hurt them the most. The other side of the coin was how a complete stranger was the one who wiped off the tears.

As Zahra watched Irfan sleep beside her on the bed. She heaved a sigh; her feeling was a mixed one. As she watched his chest raise and sink steadily, she smiled and placed her hands on his forehead, muttering; the Mu'awwadhatayn, 'Bismikallahu namutu wa ahyaa- in your Name Allah, we die and we live.' and 'Allaahumma qina adhabaka yauma tab'ath ibadak.- O Allah, protect us from Your punishment on the day Your servant is resurrected.' for him and tucked him properly in bed.

He had been playing with Aysha all evening; perhaps that was why he slept early. He barely slept at 9pm on normal days. It would always take a stern scolding from his father to get him to bed, a scolding Zahra feared would someday end up in a smack or serious beating. She shuddered at the thought. It was one thing to endure the pain of his lashes but she wasn't sure she could bear seeing her son go through the same.

Soon, Irfan's phone began to ring. He jolted out of his sleep before Zahra could blink. It was only one person he spoke to with his phone and that was his father.

Zahra was against this idea of a five-year-old holding a big phone and having unlimited access to the internet but she was nothing for her reservations to be registered.

"Daddy!" He screamed as his father's face popped up on the screen.

Zahra moved slightly from the boy so that the he would not see her. She knew well the consequences of not doing that.

"Hey, young man. How are doing today?"

"I'm fine, I've been calling you all day. It's Friday and I wore my babban riga, but you didn't respond." The boy said with a sad face and Zahra smiled at that.

"I know, sorry about that. I've been busy with work."

"I miss you Daddy."

"I miss you more my young man. You know what? Insha Allah, the next time I travel abroad, I will take you with me. It's a promise." Zahra did not miss the excitement and amusement in her son's face.

It was not always that Zahra and Irfan lived away from him, but when they did live apart, he always asked after his mother when they spoke. At least he had the decency not to let him know the state of affairs.

It was not so often that they got a break from his cage, he had his insecurities guarded by not letting them out of his sight and control. Now he did not even care about that any more. As he would say, 'I don't give a damn about you or anything that has to do with you Fatima.' It was one of the rear times that he addressed her by her alternative name.

She could never forget how much she yearned for that break, that freedom. Who would have thought that she wouldn't like it when it came? Perhaps she was wrong. She would have liked it if it came in a different form.

Being the fool she was, hearing Sharif ask after her earlier had made momentary happiness surge within her. She had, once again, been tempted to speak with him. Hanging onto the sensation, she shamelessly gestured to the boy to hand over the phone.

"Here's Mummy. She wants to speak with you." He said automatically as he made to hand his phone to his mum.

"No, not now!" Sharif snapped, but at the boys confused look he gentled his voice, "I'll call her later, Insha Allah."

She knew that later would never come. She smiled at Irfan to hide her pain. She felt insisting tears sting the corner of her eyes.

Like the outcast that she was, she watched them talk about the list of things the boy wanted from London before making her way to the bathroom to perform ablution: perhaps Allah would ease her affairs.

There were days when she made her list too.

She returned minutes later from the bathroom and performed two raka'ats following a Sahih Hadith of Ibn 'Abbas reported in Ibn Majah that the Prophet (ﷺ) used to say, at times of distress:

"La ilaha illallahul-Halimul-Karim, Subhan-Allahi Rabbil-'Arshil-'Azim, Subhan-Allahi Rabbil-samawatis-sab'i wa Rabbil-'Arshil-Azim."

Meaning: "None has the right to be worshipped but Allah, the Forbearing, the Most Generous; glory is to Allah the Lord of the Mighty Throne; glory is to Allah, the Lord of the seven heavens and the Lord of the Magnificent Throne."

She asked Allah to make things better between her and her husband, to bless their son, to make the boy the coolness of their eyes and to save him from the effect of their mistakes in his life...

By the time she was done, Irfan was already sound asleep so, she went to bed feeling tranquil; surely, by the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest!

So, how was that? ☺️😍

I hope we were able to learn a thing or two... 🙏

Ma'assalamah! 💖💖💖