Him & His Muslimah

52

Zaib/Zoya

A pool of dismay and desolation covered the walls of their home. Senselessly, she fell to the floor, her knees finally giving in, and she curled up against the wooden door, the door from where he'd left her behind. As if her brain stopped functioning, she couldn't comprehend what had happened.

Her chest was clawing, and an unsettling ball of anxiety swirled her throat. It was getting hard to breathe, so she tugged the hijab off of her and inhaled deeply.

She felt so cold that even the heater felt useless. She stared at nothingness for a while and then longingly looked towards the door from where Zaib had walked out. It made her heart clench.

She pushed herself off the floor, dashing to her purse left forgotten on the table. She yanked out the contents on the floor, and then with a rumble, her phone crashed onto the floor.

She picked it up with shaking hands, but the phone was dead; she realised her phone had run out of battery, so she quickly lunged towards the landline phone.

Despite messing up the numbers several times due to her quivering fingers, she finally got the digits right and numbly waited as the rings fell through. The first six rings prolonged, and she stubbornly dialled again.

She almost fell into prostration as he finally picked up. "Za—" her voice broke into a sob, interrupting her. She quickly gulped down the heavy sobs because she knew this was the only time he was willing to listen.

"Please come back. Please. I'll explain everything to you. I'm so sorry," the sobbing and dryness of Zoya's throat combined made her voice hoarse, unpleasant. Her eyes were now achingly red and swollen.

"Zaib, I didn't—I never wanted to hurt you. I'm begging, please. Come home and let me apologise."

The silence, on the other end, killed her. She couldn't even hear anyone breathing. She almost cried, thinking Zaib had already shut the call, but then his voice emerged. 

"I've called you a cab; they'll be there in a minute. Leave to your mom's place." His voice was unbearably monotonous as if he was speaking to some formal colleague, someone he didn't recognise. Zoya felt herself flinch at the sense of unfamiliarity but knew she deserved it.

"Zaib no, please come home—"

"I'm not coming back for a while. I want time to think." The sentences were concise and dull; she couldn't even register it being her husband's voice.

"Time to think about what?" She muttered. "We need to talk- Zaib, don't do this!" She gasped, her heart pacing painfully fast.

Yes, it was unerring that she was always messing up; yes, he deserved someone so much better, but there was no way she could let him go, ever. Despite all her flaws and cowardly choices, they belonged to each other, and that's all that mattered.

"Later." She heard him rasp. "We can talk later." And then the call deadened.

He was the only one she didn't want to hurt. She thought she was doing the right thing, being a good wife while juggling her assignment deadlines and the new job for her family's survival. Instead, the big pile of responsibilities she was working hard to fulfil went unnoticed, and it all collapsed in a blink because of that one lie.

How stupid she felt at that moment; she had never felt this defeated in her life. She did everything to make everyone happy; in the end, she lost someone who she wanted to please the most.

She hurt him so bad that he refused to come home to her and see her. It made her want to double over and hurl until she was breathless. His look of utter disdain flashed back into her memory, and she collapsed to the ground, curling into herself.