Nineteen

BK 2 chapter 19

"Are you sure you are going?" mum asked me for the twentieth time today while I hummed in reply.

I checked myself in the mirror to see whether I was decent enough to go out. I put on my silver Abaya with my blackhead cape which was shoulder length. I went to the closet and put on a black matching wedge and bag.

"Won't you apply makeup?" mom asked, trailing behind me worriedly.

"No mom, I'm not putting," I replied to her.

"What is lip gloss or mascara?" she asked rhetorically.

"Mom" I groaned, "you know I don't do all that. I'm beautiful like this and how will I apply it when I'm not wearing a niqab?" I told her softly. "And I'm not going to the party" I looked everywhere but not her.

"What!" she shouted, making me cringed. "Then where are you going?" she glared at me.

"erm..." I trailed off nervously.

"mmmm what?" she asked.

"Well" I shrugged my shoulder nonchalantly, "I'm going to Yusuf's house" I fiddled with the hem of my sleeve.

"But I thought you were going there?".

"I want him to remember me, that's why I'm going this early in the morning to face him," I replied, taking my keys, passport, and atm card off the shelf.

"OK, best of luck dear. May you be successful" she prayed and I replied with "Ameen".

My phone rang in my bag, I unzipped the bag and received the call. "Assalamualaikum" I heard Yusuf's mom voice on the other line.

"Walaikum Salam Wa Rahmatullah wabarakatuh" I replied breathlessly because I was rushing through the stairs.

"Are you coming?".

"Yes ma, I'm on my way" I replied. We exchanged some words and I hung up not before saying our slim.

I arrived at his house - his father's house. I looked around, the house has not changed.

"Assalamualaikum" I greeted waiting by the door. If though I was practically their daughter in law, I couldn't enter their house anyhow because it wasn't mine. I would wait for permission before entering and I wasn't given the permission then I would turn my back and move home.

"Walaikum Salam warahmatullahi wabarakatuh, enter" I heard from the other side. I opened the door gently and took a step inside before I was engulfed in a crushing bear.

"Alhamdulillah, you are here. He's in his room. You've one hour before the wedding. May Allah let him remember before then" she said sadly, wiping the tears that were trailing down from her eyes duct. I took her hands in mine and kissed, telling her "I'm coming".

As I walked through the stairs, I felt my heart beating loudly. It was as if it wanted to be removed from my ribcage. I was scared and nervous. Would he remember me?.

When I got to his door, I cleaned my moist hands with the handkerchief with me. I was fretting at the door. I knocked softly, I was anxious. "Assalamualaikum" I squealed out.

"Walaikum Salam, enter".

I entered the room timidly, clutching my bag to my side as if it could relieve my anxiety.

I saw him at the window side buttoned up the sleeve of his cloth. I stared at him, taking in his features while I gulped nervously.

"Oh ma'am, it's you" he smiled at me, going in to take his cap.

"Yes," I replied weakly, "I want to see you before the wedding," I told him still, fiddling with the sleeve while twirling my leg nervously.

"OK ma'am, I'm hearing" he brought a chair for me to sit.

"OK" I inhaled shakily while his cologne calmed me down. I exhaled.

"I wanted to tell you a story" I smiled softly at him, "I'm sorry for taking your time but I wish for you to know before your wedding. When no one is telling".

"Which story?".

"It's the story of an eighteen-year-old girl" I began.

"Twelve years ago there was an eighteen years old girl who was forced to marry a man by her father" I sighed, "when her father told her she was getting married to a strange man; she was angry, sad and heartbroken. But what could she do?" I stopped, looking at him whether it was ringing a bell in his heart.

"She could run away" he shrugged his shoulder, "or tell him she wasn't interested" he furrowed his brows while I chuckled lightly.

"A week after, the wedding took place. Both of them met at the guy's house. Have I told you the guy was freaking rich? That was the first time they met, the girl was already attracted to the guy. Why wouldn't she because the guy was gorgeous. And the girl had vowed to make the guys live a living hell so that he could divorce her, little did the girl know that the guy was extremely head over heels for her" I laughed, remembering my eighteen years old self.

"Then what happened?" he asked excitedly.

"Then, the girl made him suffer, the girl taught him adhkar, the girl changed him. Then the guy ex came into their life and kidnapped her" I widened my eyes to exaggerate it.

"Ex!" I nodded in confirmation.

"The ex turbulent their life, when she saw there was no way for her, she kidnapped the girl. The ex called the guy and told him to divorce his wife and marry her as a ransom. That was when the guy knew it was his ex who kidnapped his wife".

"What did the guy do?" he asked impatiently.

"Well don't let me go deep into the story, the guy went to tell the girl but fortunately the ex was bombed and unfortunately the girl was kidnapped again".

"Again!" he asked while I nodded.

"The person who kidnapped the girl damaged her soul. He craved some nasty words on her body. He abused her for three months before she was saved but when the guy got there, her happiness had already been sucked away from her. It remained to get a body. The person who kidnapped her was her real father while the guy ex was her stepsister" I choked on my tears, I shivered when remembering all that I had passed through.

"Oh my" he exclaimed, "how can someone be cruel to his daughter?".

"Because she wasn't wanted, because she was a failure. Well after she was saved, she had PTSD".

"What's PTSD?" he asked.

"Posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a serious mental condition that some people develop after a shocking, terrifying, or dangerous event. These events are called traumas. ... But if you have PTSD, these thoughts and feelings don't fade away. They last for months and years, and may even get worse. Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a mental health condition that's triggered by a terrifying event — either experiencing it or witnessing it. Symptoms may include flashbacks, nightmares and severe anxiety, as well as uncontrollable thoughts about the event. Usually, PTSD doesn't just go away on its own. Without treatment, symptoms can last for months or years, or they may come and go in waves. Getting treatment and support can make all the difference. ... In some cases, medicines can help reduce symptoms of anxiety, panic, or depression. And usually, PTSD doesn't just go away on its own. Without treatment, symptoms can last for months or years, or they may come and go in waves. Getting treatment and support can make all the difference. ... In some cases, medicines can help reduce symptoms of anxiety, panic, or depression."I explained.

"Woah, that was dangerous. I hope she recovered? "

"Yes, she recovered with the help of her therapist and her husband. A year after the incident the girl was back in fit and she was pregnant. On the day she wanted to give birth, she instructed the guy to bring her mom. The girl wanted her mom and husband to be there when she would be labouring "as I said it, I glanced at Yusuf and saw him clutching his head. His breathing came out in short pants but I continued.

"On the guy's way to bring his wife's mother, he met with an accident. He..." I stopped, looking at Yusuf who had crouched on the floor, holding his head painfully.

I wanted him to remember.

Ya Allah!, let him remember.

Memories are a hard thing to forget because they surface when least expected and we are never prepared for it.

"The doctor told the girl that her husband met with an accident and had tasted to death. She was left with the baby. She cried, screamed, and wailed because she couldn't accept it. She nearly committed suicide because of her love"

"Stop" Yusuf's voice croaked out.

"Then after suffering for three years, she later married to her childhood crush but the childhood crush was suffering from an anger issue. Well, she lives through her second husband's abuse. Five years later, fortunately, she met her first husband but unfortunately, the husband did not remember her, telling her that he was her Yusuf, he was Zubair '' I sobbed, I moved closer to him to touch him but he pushed me away.

"Don't touch me!" he eyes glistening with tears, "my head" he cried. "Mom!" he shouted for his mother.

Yusuf's mother came to him worriedly, he held his mother's hand vulnerable. "Mom, my head. My medicine" the clutched his head.

"Go to the shelf there my wife, his medicine is there," she told me and I went to the shelf as I took the medicine, the medicine slipped from my mind and fell. The pills scattered on the fall.

I rushed to his mother's side, "the medicine has.." I sobbed on my shaky hands.

He held his head, breathing heavily. His eyes were opening and closing as if he was fighting consciousness. I and his mother tried to make him stand, as he stood up he fell down with a loud thud.

.

.

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He fainted.

~**~