Under That Scarf (Editing)

Chapter Seventeen

How many envelopes could there possibly be? Honestly why does this happen to me... Is this life? Gah I miss my honeymoon. I miss Harun. I should text him and ask him what time he'll be back. Jamila and Harun landed in New York this morning, it's six o'clock in the evening and the newly wed couple are finally feeling reality settle in. Harun was asked to rush to the hospital if he could, at first he was hesitant because he didn't want to leave his wife but she reassured him she had other things to do. She's lying on the bed with a heap of files and papers around her. A daunting sight indeed.

Now here she is sorting out mail, filling in reports and peeling open these envelopes that contain invitations' to different schools for motivational talks. I'd love to but how on earth will I fit this in my schedule? I have to figure something out. In the mix of all these professional white envelopes there is a pink one. Jamila's eyes are drawn to this and her eyebrows compose a 'V' shape. The envelope is much smaller than the rest and it has a red heart shaped sticker on it. Her arm reaches out for it and examines it in a skeptical way.

At that very moment her phone begins to ring; Jamila drops the envelope startled. She answers the call without looking at the caller ID.

'Hello?'

'Hi, is this Ms. Jamila?' The strange man inquires.

'Yes, speaking?' Jamila bites her lip in uncertainty. Who is he and how does he have my number?

'This is Bilal, Ms. Rumana gave me this number so that I could speak to you regarding my sessions.' Everything begins to fall into place, this is the guy Ru was talking about! Why did she give him my number?! That's so unprofessional and wrong. It goes against privacy policy or something along those lines. I'm going to kill her for this!

'Right.' Jamila adjusts her blouse, grabs a pencil and a notepad, and leans against the headboard of her bed. 'As far as timing is concerned, I'm free on Monday and Wednesday from three to four pm and then Friday from five to six pm. What do you say?' That's right, short and sweet. Be firm Jam.

'Great! That's... Honestly I'm so grateful.' Bilal chuckles and Jamila finds herself smiling involuntarily as well. 'So can we start tomorrow?'

'Yes sure.'

'Thank you so much Doc, you have no idea what this means to me.' Doc? Alright bugs.

'Glad I could help.'

'Could I ask you one question?' Jamila checks the time and it's almost six thirty.

'How 'bout we leave it for tomorrow Bilal.'

'Alright, see you then.' Jamila says goodbye and hangs up. The thought of helping someone mentally really has an effect on someone. To be able to eliminate their weaknesses and give them something to look forward to in life. It's rewarding and Jamila wouldn't have it any other way. She arranges the room and dumps all her files and papers on the table beside the bed, she's completely forgotten about the pink envelope in the process. I'm actually looking forward to going to work! Ha, I can't wait to tell Harun. Oh my God, where is that man? Has he forgotten me?

Jamila decides to pray Maghrib before she calls her husband and question his whereabouts. As she stands before her Master, all worries and doubts dissipate into nothing. She lifts the Quran from Harun's wooden bookshelf and turns to Surah Mutaffifeen, Chapter 83 in the Noble Scripture. The meaning floods her heart with both fear and motivation to be more righteous. Sijeen... Oh Allah don't keep us amongst the inhabitants of the blaze. An overwhelming sense of guilt resides in her mind at the thought of Bilal. Her client, she suddenly feels this nagging sensation about counseling him. I don't know if I want to do it anymore, I mean yes marriage changes a lot of things but then again the devil is everywhere. Is this a good idea? Gosh I'm so confused. Placing the Quran in its original place, she heads downstairs to mingle with her in laws.