Him & His Muslimah

50

Zoya

Today Zoya had a shorter day shift and was planning to return home early, spend time with Zaib, make him dinner and relax for the rest of the evening. They had not been the closest lately; however, his gesture in visiting her workplace with food had touched her heart. He was making an effort to stay close to her amongst the chaotic schedules; she wanted nothing more than to return that.

Her shift was a later in the morning so by the time her alarm yanked her out of her slumber, Zaib had already left. She was disappointed that she hadn't gotten to see him but felt incredibly excited about the evening she had planned. She changed into her hospital scrubs and consumed a quick breakfast of a croissant and a cup of strawberry yoghurt.

Before leaving, her gaze landed upon the little, pink sticky note hanging from the fridge's surface. She perked up, dashing towards the kitchen and stared at the cursive writing.

'I know you want to see me every morning and trust me I do too, but it was a really important meeting. I can't wait for our date today. PS: I stole a morning kiss.

You can return it when I'm back

- Z '

She traced the words with her fingers, smiling like a lovesick fool. She imagined him briskly searching for the pack of sticky notes and grabbing one from her desk to write this affectionate message for her. He unknowingly did romantic things for her, which made her heart overflow with love for him.

She wanted to do something in return of his doting so Zoya had worked on a little gift for him: a scrapbook, in which she highlighted some things she loved about him and had compiled them with series of some of their stunning pictures. She had started it during free hours at university when she'd be waiting in the short interval between the first and the next lecture.

She would gift it tonight and also confess. She had finally decided to tell Zaib the truth. God, she ached when she thought of him hurting. She didn't want to inflict more harm by carrying on lies with regularity.

She could only hope Zaib would understand and forgive her.

As she headed to the bus stop, her phone vibrated in her pocket, halting her steps. The ID read 'Mom'. She wondered what her mother-in-law would want on a regular Wednesday morning; she answered the call immediately.

"Zoya please, it's urgent! I need your help, it's Zain," choked sobs escaped the speaker and Zoya felt her heart sink upon hearing the desperation in her tone. This could not be good. It was something bad.

"I'm on my way," she found herself muttering. Her heart thudded against her ribcage, almost causing her to double over in anxiety. There wasn't enough time to ask for explanations or wait for the bus; she signalled over the first taxi she saw and hopped in.

The ride was longer than it needed to be. The entire journey, Zoya's heart was in her throat, breathing uneven. Upon reaching Zaib's house, she dashed to the door and noticed it was unlocked and slightly ajar. She dreadfully stepped inside and a very disarranged living room came into view. Vases shattered- torn pages from books dispersed across the floor. Her eyes were wide as saucers as she noticed drops of blood, drying into a reddish-brown. Chills travelled down her spine as goosebumps rose on her arm— what had happened here?

A blood-curdling scream reverberated through the house, the source of the sound coming from upstairs. With adrenaline pumping through her veins, Zoya dashed upstairs into the master bedroom—the closest room. There, slumped on the floor was Zain, passed-out and bleeding from his hand-her bedraggled mother-in-law weeping as she held him close to her frame, her eyes soulless. Zoya's breakfast threatened to lurch up- she felt sick.