Trust Me (An Islamic Love Story)

Chapter 43

I spent the night anxious, not being able to sleep longer than half an hour to check every now and then on Azar. I hovered over my line of sanity, but whenever I was about to cross it, my mind diverted to what Azar had told me. I always knew there was something that pained him. I had always noticed the flashes of agony in his eyes, but he was so quick to cover up that I almost thought I had imagined it.

Azar and I didn't discuss anything about yesterday's events. I didn't think it was right for me to prod him unless he wanted to talk more. I didn't want to look at him as if he is wounded. I didn't want him to feel embarrassed about it. It seemed easy to pretend, to fall back into the routine, but there was a boundary was missing, that was dissolved, and I was unable to build it back up.

Azar's project was to be approved or rejected on Sunday, and he spent most of the weekend working in his study corner. On the other side, I was busy making preparations for guests that were to come on both days of the weekend, and perhaps Azar left his work only when the guests arrived. I met a few of Baba's clients too, and the weekend went fairly well.

I could tell Azar was dreading Sunday, but I felt hesitant to assure him thinking he would disapprove of my interference. I also wanted Azar to proofread my CV once, but I didn't ask him as he looked very busy, and I didn't want to disturb him, so I submitted it online.

I am staring absent-mindedly at the clock, and so are Azar's parents as we wait for his arrival from the office to hear about his project.

"Should I call him?" Mama asks worriedly.

"No, I think it will put too much pressure on him," I disapprove, and Baba nods in agreement.

We hear the main door unlock, and I realize all three of us are holding our breath. Oh Allah, please let it be accepted, I pray silently. Azar enters the lounge, and when I see the look on his face, my face breaks into a huge smile. He hugs Mama as he exclaims, "It got approved! I can't believe it!"

"Oh, Alhamdulillah, Azar." She pats his back with tears of happiness in her eyes. "I knew it. I just knew it. I told you not to worry, didn't I?"

They pull away, and Baba pats Azar's shoulder as he says, "Well done, son."

The delight of hearing these words is clearly written on Azar's face. I have never seen him so happy. His eyes linger over me, and my smile falters slightly, but to my surprise, his widens. He looks back to Mama and asks, "What's for dinner? I'm starving!"

Baba and Azar head to the dining table while Mama and I go to the kitchen to bring Azar's favorite dishes. Baba, Mama, and I listen attentively to Azar's detailed description of the day, and Mama beams when Azar serves himself the second time.

Baba and Azar go to the mosque to pray Isha. As Mama and I clear up the table, Mama says delightfully, "Oh I am so glad. Azar was glowing with happiness. It has been a really long time since I saw him openly smile like that. Finally, my son is happy."

I smile as I agree, "Yeah, Ma Sha Allah."

"Thank you so much, Abeer," Mama startles me.

"For what, Mama?" I ask with an air of politeness.

"For marrying Azar," she replies, and my stomach drops. "He is very lucky."

"Nah, Mama, you are embarrassing me," I dismiss with a heavy heart. The divorce papers are lying on my side table, and here I am being praised for something that is going to be over soon. "In fact, I should thank you for accepting—" a coward woman "—me so welcomingly."

"Don't be silly, dear," Mama says affectionately. "I'm not blind. I've seen the way Azar looks at you. You make him happy. He may conceal it or may not even know it, but I am his mother. I know it."