4 03

"How much more do I have to go through?"

✨1✨

On a normal day, Yahya would probably be eating the supper his wife had prepared for him on that cool Saturday night. Sleeves of his jalabiya rolled to his elbow, he would munch on his supper, not caring much about the kids muttering away around him. But by circumstance, the day presented before them wasn't and none expected normal events. Yahya arrived from the mosque about thirty minutes later, holding the usual tight smile on his lips until he saw his wife fidgeting nervously.

"What's the problem?" He asked with a raised eyebrow, planting himself before his wife with his son cladded on his right arm. The two year old half sat on his dad's arm, scanning the sitting room for the familiar face of his mother. His naturally carved brows and catlike eyes, traits he had inherited from his father, squeezed into a grimace and he let out a strangled cry. "Mummy!" He tried wiggling his way out of his father's hold without much progress, sighing in defeat, he looked towards his dad's tight face. "Daddy, I want to go to Mummy." He cried. He noticed the crease on his dad's forehead that formed from the deep thought he was in, smoothening it, he gained Yahya's attention.

"What?" The father asked, concern edging over his squinted eyes, something he always did whenever in frustration. "Umm." He replied, pointing to his mom's unmoving figure. He dropped him on the marble tiles, not retrieving his hands until he was sure Yuhsha wasn't going to fall down. Yuhsha bounced happily to his mom's front, hugging her legs in his arms with a quiet laugh. "How are you?" Zainab chuckled. She picked him up in a swift movement, sitting him down on her lap. Yuhsha waved off her question with a yawn, his tiny hands flying to cover his mouth like he's been taught.

"I think he's hungry, Ayah go and feed him." Zainab ordered. Though Yuhsha was hungry, the act was also done in a bid to have her excuse them because of the conversation she knew they had to have. Ayah picked Yuhsha off Zainab's lap, hanging him on her waist. Zainab gave Ayah a meaningful glance, mouthing 'Note'. Ayah hurriedly nodded in understanding, dropping the note on her mom's outstretched palm. "Yuhsha bobo!" She laughed, climbing up the stairs with Yuhsha giggling uncontrollably.

Yahya intertwined his fingers before his face, resting the tips of his index on his nose. His thumbs rested underneath his chin, elbows popped on his knees helping to hold up his face. He stared right ahead, breathing steady, his legs tapped against the tiles in impatience. Already reading his mood, Zainab knew he needed her to start talking.

"We found a note Barakah had left Ayah the day she... Ran away." Yahya's ears perked up at the new piece of information but he didn't react, he waited for her to continue. "The letter had lots of things in it... It's preferable you read it yourself." She sighed, allowing her head fall against her neck. Not bothering to sniff, she allowed the tears burning against her lids roll down her cheeks.

Yahya didn't have to look at his wife to know she was crying, the occasional sniffs and her shaking figure that he could see through his peripheral vision was enough proof. He let out a tired sigh, stretching out his palms to her. "The note." Zainab picked up the note from beside her, placing it on his palm with her face still casted downwards. Yahya retrieved his hand, opening the letter carefully. He let out an inaudible hiss on sighting the handwriting, proceeding to read the contents.

He kept a straight face all through the while, not taking a break until he was sure he was done reading it. He dropped it carelessly by his side, too tired to make anything out of it. He just needed to eat and sleep, not thinking of the contents of some letter his prodigal daughter had written. He relaxed further into the chair, stretching his arms with a yawn. "Barakah wrote this?" He asked. Though the answer to his question was obvious, he couldn't keep from asking.

His lower abdomen tightened when his wife nodded. The nod was an expected one, but it still caught him off guard. Barakah had already ran away the last year and the family was moving on fairly, the note only had to open up their old wounds, probably adding two pinches of salt into it. "What do you think we should do?" Yahya asked thoughtfully, glancing his wife's way. The question seemed to fuel Zainab's tears as she bursted into fresh ones. The dried steaks getting moisturized. "Come here." He cooed, drawing her in for a passionate hug.

He wrapped his arms around her shaking figure, hugging her tightly. He pecked the top of her head, his lips lingered for a moment. He gently placed his chin on her head, rocking her back and forth with no words said. Yahya zoned out in his thoughts, his mind was on an overdrive. Was this how he'd lose his daughter... His first daughter? He remembered being proud of her, she used to be so obedient and collected, what had happened over the years? He had always thought he was raising her the right way, giving her all the love and attention she deserved and wanted, where had he gotten it wrong?

Though he knew his daughter was long gone, the turning point had been passed, and there was no coming back, but he still couldn't find it in himself to hate her. He wanted to hate her so much so, disowning her wouldn't be an issue to think about. But he didn't. There was a tiny little hope he still held on to; 'If she's really my daughter and loves me and her mother as much as we do her, she'll definitely come back to us...' But when? When would this little hope die or would it perhaps work out? Would she really come back? Tell them she was sorry and promise to never leave home like that again? As much as he doubted the possibility of such happenings he still wanted to believe in her. I didn't give up on her at the worst of times.

Zainab poking a finger into his sides brought him back to reality. "Uh?" He looked around in a daze, his gaze softening when they landed on his wife. Noticing the strange look she threw at him, he raised his brows in question.

"What were you thinking about?" She asked.

"Everything... What's there to not think about?"

Zainab nodded her head in approval. "Are you hungry?" She asked, noting a change of topic would be best for them. "I am... please." He smiled teasingly, relaxing deeper into his chair. Zainab felt heat rush up her cheeks at the obvious flirtation, scrambling into the kitchen to avoid been seen. Yahya let out a loud laugh, partly mocking and partly humorous.

✨2✨

It wasn't until seven minutes past nine that the door to the sitting room opened, revealing Salamah's tired face behind it. Ayah who was seated on one of the couches, busy on her phone raised up her head to see who it was. "Why are you coming back this late." She glanced up to the clock by her right, pointing at it to buttress her point. Salamah hissed as a reply, glaring at her sister. "You can't even ask what I was doing." She scoffed.

"I just did."

"Whatever. We went on some stupid excursion." The look on Salamah's face was enough to tell Ayah that the excursion was no good one. "I hate to know how it went like." She laughed.

"They took is to some stupid ditch, telling us the importance of recycling... How do they even relate with each other!" She sighed, slumping down on the chair after pulling off her hijab. She rolled it in a rough heap and dumped it in her lap. "Sorry." Ayah laughed louder, not able to stop herself from sounding like she was mocking Salamah.

"What's there to eat?" Salamah asked, choosing to ignore Ayah's clear mockery. "Forget about food for now, your sister has done it again." Ayah informed, her expression turning hard. "My sister? Or yours? You are the one who likes her not me, I've told you she isn't mine right from day one." Salamah scoffed, her tone conveying grave seriousness.

"Whatever. You know I told you she was supposed to tell me somethings last year?-" Salamah nodded. "She wrote a note, storing away in the bedside table. It's been there all through the year and we had no clue, Yasmin found it this night." Ayah clapped, adding more enthusiasm to the topic.

Salamah, who Ayah knew well to be a jist loving person, let loose her talent. She shifted to the edge of the chair, turning her whole body to face Ayah. "Drop your phone and tell me the contents." She said impatiently. "Tell? I'm not doing that, read for yourself."

She fished out the note from beside her, handing it over to Salamah who's hands were already outstretched. Salamah read the letter within minutes, not giving much reactions. She dropped the paper on the space beside her, squeezing her mouth in disapproval.

"Sister Barakah is a bitch I promise you."

Ayah let out a loud laugh at the compliment, nearly encountering a hiccup in the midst. "You don't have to pronounce it." She reprimanded, a ghost of a smile present on her lips. "How can I not? Sometimes I wonder how I'm sisters with an ill thinking bitch." She continued, her face clear of all trace of humor.

"That's too harsh."

"It's not, it's just me speaking the truth." She said irritably.

Ayah was just about to reply her when Yahya walked into the parlour, cutting their conversation. He was dressed in his deep blue coloured pajamas, a shirt and trouser. Blue stars were sprinkled around the shirt, stopping by the collar.

"Salamah you are back." He acknowledged, taking a seat on the opposite side of the room. His hands on the arms of the chair grabbed hold of the remote, flicking through channels until they landed in the one he was satisfied with. "As salam alaykum sir," she greeted. "I came in few minutes ago."

"Wa alaykum salam, How was the excursion? Your principal called." He inquired, his eyes not leaving the television. Salamah scoffed inaudibly on reminder of the wasteful excursion but she replied anyway. "It was fine sir." She lied. Ayah who had gone back to typing her phone let out a giggle at this, her hands flying to cover her mouth.

Ayah's giggle caught Yahya's attention. On instinct, he guessed she was laughing at a reply someone had given to her comment. His fatherly instinct pushed in, urging him to check what she was laughing at.

"Let me have your phone." He ordered.

Ayah, already cladded in a knee's length pink coloured night gown with a minnie mouse bow drawn at the centre, walked over to him dropped her phone carefully into his outstretched arms, watching him retrieve it right after. He immediately put on the phone, noting the password panel the phone brought out.

"Type in your password." He muttered. Ayah punched in her password thoughtfully, watching him push her hands off her phone the moment it was unlocked. He immediately dived for her WhatsApp, tapping on the first male contact he sighted. He strolled to the top of their conversation, making himself comfortable on the couch before he started reading.

Ayah took a sit on the opposite side of the room, Salamah beside her. Salamah squeezed her hands reassuring, drawing Ayah's gaze. "You don't have anything on there do you?" Salamah whispered, watching Yahya from the corner of her eyes. "I don't. I really don't like that he's checking my chats, I bet it has to with sister Barakah running away." Ayah scoffed, making sure to not catch Yahya's attention. "We are safe then." The relief was evident in Salamah's face as she sighed inaudibly. "Yeah, I guess so too. Let's just prove him wrong okay?" Salamah added, eying Yahya's concentrated figure.

His eyes never left the screen, it moved from word to word and his hands scrolled through the phone. Ayah watched him begrudgingly, while thinking of possibly incriminating stuffs on her phone.

As Muslim girls, being too close to an opposite sex who wasn't a close relative - Mahram - was a huge taboo. Yahya as their father, also didn't condole his children doing that. He hated it when any of his girls laugh incautiously with guys, often punishing them at home to ensure such acts weren't repeated. A strong reason as to why he was really angry at Barakah. Ayah noticed Yahya's eyes squint at some point, an indication that he had seen what he didn't like. "Ayah, come here." Yahya ordered. Counting her fingers along with her breath, Ayah stood up to the most awaited call. "Sir?" She planted herself beside him, bopping her heel fidgeting-ly.

"Who is Sa'ad?" He asked, pointing at the header of her WhatsApp. Ayah looked into her phone, her eyes immediately scanning the name. His chat page was opened, what Yahya had been reading the whole while. "He's my course mate." She shrugged. "Why do you guys chat this much?" He raised his eyebrow, staring at her face as she struggled for answers.

"We usually read together during free times, along with Yasmin." Her fingers climbed over each other in a nervous manner. "That still doesn't justify anything. How many times have I told you to reduce the way you relate with boys? You even go as far as chatting till twelve am, what kind of relationship do you have with him?" Yahya's tone rose while he talked to Ayah, his temper taking the best of him.

Ayah took two cautious steps back, not wanting to be a victim of Yahya's uprising anger. "It's not like that, we just happened to be online at the same time." She hurriedly defended. She had known the consequences of her actions that day, but Sa'ad had just happened to be online that night. She was also having insomnia and decided to log in, one question had led to the other till they had a full blown conversation on school life at large. "Who is he to you?" Yahya suddenly asked, taking Ayah by surprise. "You... You don't possibly think he's my boyfri-" "-Answer the damn question." Yahya glared. "He's just a friend." She scoffed.

"What's the problem?" Zainab asked, walking into the parlour from her room that she had previously been in. "Then what warrants for the late night chats? He's not even the only one you're been chatting with at late nights." Yahya raised his voice, ignoring Zainab's presence. He moved out of Sa'ad's page, scrolling down her contact list. "1,2... 7! All boys! I can hardly see a female contact here. Do you not have female friends?" He shook his head in disappointment, dropping her phone on the chair and stood up to face her.

"You want to be like your sister?" He asked, earning a quick shake of head from Ayah. "That's just it! you've also been following guys all about, giving out your number like it's a free gift. How many of them have seen you without hijab?" He asked, disappointment flooding out of his speech. Ayah wasn't happy with the accusations she was receiving, she knew she had too much guys on her list, but she wasn't doing anything with them. They were all just acquaintances and very few, friends. "Abu, it's not like that. I just happen to have lots of male friends, I swear. There's nothing going on between I and any of them." She swore, raising both her hands in surrender.

"You see what your daughter is doing?" He asked Zainab, pointing at Ayah's fidgeting self. "What's wrong?" Zainab asked, still oblivious to the matter on ground. Yahya proceeded to explain everything to Zainab, not leaving out any detail. He picked up Ayah's phone, unlocking it with the password he had seen Ayah type into it. "Here, check it yourself." He gave her the phone, tapping on Sa'ad's page. Zainab read the chat for a while, dropping the phone down with a sigh.

"I've told you girls times without number, don't give guys too much of your attention. Guys are not to be trusted, giving them this much attention leads to unfathomable things." Zainab said, her gaze trained on Ayah. "Salamah hope you are also listening?" Salamah nodded in response. "Like this now Ayah. The attention you gave this guy is too much, minimize such chats and avoid late night chats at all costs." She reprimanded.

"You'll have to talk to them more about that. The next time I see something like this, or anything similar I'm seizing your phone, Understood?" Yahya threatened. "Yes sir." Ayah said, finding it hard to stop the smile that was pushing it's way onto her lips. "Imagine! Twelve am. Don't do that again okay." He raised a warning finger to Ayah. Though he smiled at the end of his statement, Ayah knew he was deadly serious.

✨3✨

"You don't mean it!" Yasmin chuckled.

It was Monday morning, the next week day after Ayah was reprimanded by her parents. The cool morning sun shone into their classroom through the windows. Colleagues scattered around the classroom, in groups of twos, threes and fours, chattering animatedly. Laughter echoed around the building, the smiling faces of happy teenagers beautifying the class.

Ayah sat across Yasmin, each on her own seat. They faced each other, matching chuckles coming from their conversation. Ayah wore a pair of black jean, her simple round necked black top accompanying the trouser. A blue knee's length hijab draped down her shoulder, covering her cloth from the outside world.

"I'm serious! If not for mom who handled it well, I would be dead meat now. For reals, no joke." Ayah added with a grimace. "Shit, you are really in for it. Sister Barakah's elope definitely has everything to do with this." Yasmin nodded thoughtfully.

"My thoughts exactly." Ayah replied, giving a thumbs up for emphasis. "I'm really sorry though, it's never easy... Having your parents check your phone, it's as annoying as I can pinpoint." Yasmin said. "I know right! I hate it so much." Ayah grumbled.

"Everybody does sis." She giggled, patting Ayah's cheek.

"Morning class!" An overly enthusiastic lecturer greeted, bouncing into the class with his teeth wide open. "I hate it when he's happy." Yasmin shivered, nudging Ayah by the side. "We are doomed." She added, turning to face their lecturer.

"We are starting our test today." He announced. The students bursted into mumbles of 'nos' and yes', each speaking for themselves. "No arguments, I'm not going back on my word." He wrote the word 'Test' on the board. Turning his full attention to the class, he waited till they all put away their properties.

"So let me help you rephrase..." Ayah started, giggling at the lecturer's expression, She looked at Yasmin who was already laughing before continuing. "... We are dead."