Stairway to Heaven

28. Near-miss

"In the moment, we might not be able to comprehend the beauty and hikmah behind His plans, but later we'll thank Allah for everything—Especially the things He saved us from—"

Hajra heard her Mother's soft and solemn voice over her head, while she sat curled up on the bed with her head resting on Humera's lap. As her mother continued to run her fingers though Hajra's hair, Hajra couldn't help but think about it all.

And despite everything that had surpassed, she was finding it impossible to be able to shed a single tear that night.

'Maybe I've run out of tears to cry, by now.' She thought, while snuggling in closer with her mother. Long moments of silence passed, before Hajra heard Humera speak again.

"When something is meant for you, Hajra—it will find you, even if you were to hide in the depths of the ocean. And if it's meant to go elsewhere, then it will slip right through your fingers, even if you were to forcefully make it yours. This is the Qadr of Allah." Humera uttered ever so softly, while continuing to caress the top of Hajra's head, but Hajra kept staring wide-eyed into pitch black nothingness. All her thoughts coming to a halt, as if there was nothing left in this world to be said or heard anymore.

Sometimes it gets so quiet around you, that you can almost feel the heavy silence seeping into your very soul.

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A FEW HOURS AGO

Standing infront of the mirror, she stared back at her tired and weary reflection. She had taken to the habit of avoiding looking at the mirror for too long, since a while back. Because at rare times, she'd noticed that if she kept looking at herself for too long, she could almost see him reflected in her image.

"I'll call Hajra--" Her trance was broken by her Mother's call, who must've been conversing with Hashim. He had come to pick her up for the engagement party.

She came out with Humera moments later and caught a shadow pass over Hashim's face as he took in her look.

"Let's go?" Hajra said after exchange of  greetings and small talk.

"You look pretty--" He began a while after they had sat down in his car. Hajra flinched at his voice and glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. Without realising it, she sat scooted as far away as possible; pressed against the window.

"--You could lose the dupatta for today, atleast." His voice had taken on an edge, which Hajra couldn't help but notice. Yet, she kept reminding herself that she knew Hashim. He was her fiancé and soon to be husband. But still, she wasn't able to quite erase the uneasiness tugging at her senses.

"I want you to see for yourself the kind of society you're going to be a part of now. It's best if you let go of that world you've grown up in; sooner than later--" Hajra almost chocked on her own spit after hearing those words leave his mouth. Hashim had spatted the word 'that world' as if the mere thought of it was smearing his existence with filth.

"It's hard enough for me to convince my parents that you're nothing like those belonging from your background. It's in your best interest if you start adjusting yourself to this lifestyle, now. If you want my parents to treat you with respect, then you have to become one of us. You need to let go of that middle class mentality, first and foremost—"

He was still going on, but Hajra could hear nothing except the ringing in her ears. Her face was heated up with a surge of embarrassment. Yet, with her head down and muscles of her neck clenched in restraint; she silently let him tell her all about the misfortune her low-born status had brought upon him.