Trust Me (An Islamic Love Story)

Chapter 32

"He didn't come to see how you were doing. He came to see you."

Azar's words induce complete disgust in me, and I try my best to control my anger. I don't want to be weak in front of him anymore.

I look away from him, afraid of something I don't even know. Azar attempts to take the soup bowl from me, but I stop him. "I can help myself." I don't need you. I bite back the words.

"Why are you not looking at me?" He asks, startling me.

I look up at that. "Is it bothering you, Azar Hussain?" I mock, and my voice sounds bitter. It is his turn to be surprised.

"Ahmed shouldn't have done that," Azar admits, almost defensive and apologetic.

"You are saying as if it matters to you," I snap back. I am angry at him. I hate him, and I hate his brother.

Abeer, calm down, a voice in the back of my head says. Hatred is never the solution. You still don't know the full picture.

"Abeer, do you expect me to console you?" Azar asks so genuinely that to say I am shocked is an underestimation.

"No, never," I object.

"You look very conflicted," he speaks calmly, making me even more furious. "What are you conflicted about?"

"Why should I tell you?" I ask, trying to be calm too, but failing. "Will it help? No. In fact, you are my biggest conflict right now."

Azar looks amused for a moment. "Is it because you realized I am a Muslim too?"

His words make me feel guilty, and my anger melts. "Why did you help me, defend me?"

Azar becomes still. "I see," he says, his eyes dancing. "You have begun thinking I help you because I actually care about you." He chuckles and shakes his head in dismay. "The answer to your question is simple. For you to suffer, you have to stay alive."

I wish his words didn't prick so badly.

"Just because I am obliged to help you, doesn't mean, I want to," he continues as he stands up. "I'd say sorry for bursting your dream bubble, but then I am not really sorry."

"Is it for your family again? You want to show Ahmed that we are happy together?" I guess.

"Bingo," he says in a bored voice. "Can you finish your soup now? Mama and Baba will be coming soon, and I don't want to know that you passed out."

Azar exits the room without saying anything else.

I let out a shaky breath.

And then I break down.

No matter how hard I try, the tears spill all my heart's secrets.

"Oh Allah..." I say, my chest tightening. "Oh Allah..."

I don't know how I'll be able to face Ahmed again or even Maliha. Does she know? She can't. If she does, I'll break. I won't be able to handle it.

That's what most men do right? They intrude on your space. They don't respect your decision. They do just what they want to do. First him, then Azar, and now Ahmed...

Maybe if I wasn't a woman, all of them would have left me in peace.

Oh Allah... I clutch the sheets, letting out a sob. What should I do now? Guide me. I need your help, oh Lord. I desperately need You.

"Indeed, [O Muhammad], you do not guide whom you like, but Allah guides whom He wills. And He is most knowing of the [rightly] guided." (28:56)