His Hafizah and her Hafiz

Frantic

Hawa POV:

The sun sank lower churning the evening darker by the minute. Crickets chirped in the darkness while dim lamp posts flickered on in the streets brightening the small kingdom. I gazed down through the living room window into the busy illuminated avenue, buildings and holo billboards flashed multicoloured lights while vehicles whooshed through the streets to reach their assigned destinations. From time to time, the sirens wailed while other times chatters and loud immoral music blasted from the passersby mingling with the noises in the congested streets.

With one last look through the dark window, I began tugging the red curtains close. After one forceful tug, my eyes caught a sudden figure hurtling though the sidewalks. Her silhouette covered with a hoodie and her lower regions skirted with an abaya. She ran hurriedly quivering with panic and dread as she continued glancing back and forth fearfully as if something will pop out any minute and pursue her.

I squinted my eyes to observe her closely, she seemed way too familiar... wasn't she Safoora?

My heart began beating wildly in my chest as I studied her figure closely. 

Safoora?

Yes, she was indeed her. Her body movements said it all.

For once, I knew where she was headed. Grabbing my scarf, I quickly dashed down the stairs to open the door in a hurry. Why was she running around like a lunatic after dusk?

"Safoora," I called, opening the door wider and covering my face with the end of my scarf.

She huffed to catch her breath for a second before her emerald iris caught with mine, her orbs flashing with pain and terror. Without wasting a second, she dashed towards me and threw herself at me, encircling her arms around my figure tightly. 

Squirming under her firm grasp, I closed the door with the remnant of my strength and hugged her back fondly. Safoora began sobbing vigorously as her body began quaking harshly with grief. I held her tightly with apprehension, waiting for her to slowly calm down. What had happened that had left her broken completely to pieces? Was Abu Hurairah behind this all?

I was definitely going to wage war with Abu Hurairah, if he was the masterplanner behind this all. He did not have the rights to make his wife cry!

Safoora's sobs broke into hiccups as she quickly dived to wipe her eyes. "Are you okay?" I whispered soothingly at last, holding her shoulders and looking at her eyes painstakingly.   

She nodded slowly, taking her niqab off. "Yeah--"

"No, you're not." I narrowed my eyes, demanding for an honest answer. "Why were you running around the streets? You're suppose to be home. Tell me... did Hurairah make you run laps during this chilly night?"

"Trust me everything's fine," She grinned sadly.

I raised my eyebrows, "You really think I'll buy that?"

She sighed after a long moment giving me a reassuring smile, "Just missed Aunty, that's all."

"Are you sure?"

She furrowed her eyes, "What do you mean? She's my aunt, I can cry for her if I want to, okay!"

"Okay," I answered unsurely, not entirely convinced with her answer. I simply decided to let the topic slide for now since she was still traumatized by horror, her mind completely elsewhere as she continued to stare at the ground in front of her like a statue.

"Let's go up!" I told her softly, leading her to the main base of our house. "Make yourself at home."

"I'm staying for the night." She replied bluntly, "Did Huzaifah come home?"