Chapter 19

Muhsin knew all what she was doing wasn't because she actually wanted to or she did it for the sake of Allah. He knew all she did was to impress him. Even though she didn't and she knew he doesn't love her, she was more than lucky her desires were coming true when his mother spoke to him about her. The buzzer of his phone went off like a snake rattle. He scooped it up from the centre table and spoke into it. "Good afternoon daddy," he muttered. Amira slightly gazed at him when she heard the name he called.  "No daddy, I'm not busy," he responded. Their eyes met and she glared at him while he looked away. "Okay daddy, I will be on my way right now." He ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He rise to his feet same time she did. "Where are you going?" She asked moving closer to him. "What do you mean by where am I going? Daddy sent his driver on an errand and he asked me to go to Kuje and pick up Dalia, she's starting her registration in two day." "Well I am going with you, you can't leave me here," she concluded before stepping out off the living room. "You should get going. Have patience, okay? Just ignore her." He thanked his mother and bade her goodbye before heading out. And as his mother asked, he didn't pay attention to amira's rants. He was furious deep within and he felt the urge to smack her face but he restrained himself. They arrived in Kuje after thirty minutes. He parked the car in front of the house and stepped out without uttering a single word to her. She folded her arms on her chest as she fumed with anger. She looked at them from the car as he waited for the boy he sent in to announce his arrival. He later went into the house. Her heart skipped a bit. Why would he enter? She stepped out of the car and walked over to the door while contemplating wether to enter or not. She looked at the environment and hissed, disgusted. So this is where the girl lives and mommy was disturbing her about the dirty thing? A jungle, no a garbage place. She chuckled dryly and went back into the car. A while later, he came out together with Dalia. Burning rage hissed through her body like deathly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of unwanted violence. Dalia opened the back door when she caught sight of amira in the front seat. She greeted her same time he was stepping into the car. Dalia sinked in het seat when amira ignored her. He started the car and they left the village. Few minutes into the journey, amira broke the silence. "I hope we're taking her home with us to clean the house because it's been two weeks since she last cleaned the house." He glanced at her and gazed away as he chuckled, devastated. "I'm taking her home and I don't want any arguments amira." He declared but it was like he added more fuel to her fire. "But the house is dirty, she needs to clean it today!" "Is she some kind of your maid? You should respect this girl more than you respect those your useless friends that only teach you how to roam around the city. This girl cleans your entire house and for once have you ever thanked her? And you have the audacity to speak like that as if you were the one that gave birth to her." Her eyes widened for a second before narrowing in anger. She had no words to fight back. Every word stung only fuelling the fire that burned inside her. Every violate phrase was like gasoline to it, her fists began to clench and her jaw rooted. She was more angry at Dalia than she was with her husband because she caused all the insults rained on her, she mused to herself. And as he said, they dropped her off at home and went back to their house. The moment he dropped amira off, he left the house again. White knuckles from clenching her fist too hard, and gritted teeth from the effort to remain silent, her hunched from exuded an animosity that was like acid- burning, slicing, potent. Her face was red with suppressed rage, and when she saw him leave again, the anger rises twice as much as it was. Later that night she was still in the living room waiting for him. She needed to release her anger on something or someone, and he was the perfect person. An hour later, she heard his car pullover. She peeped from the window and nodded her head, infuriated. The moment he stepped into the house and met her in the living room, arms akimbo, he sighed as he rubbed the space between his eyes. He walked into the living room passed her, she blocked his path, "we need to talk," she demanded. "What, amira?" He asked calmly. He knew definitely things were about to get bad. "What the hell was the meaning of what you did? How on earth would you speak to me that way in front of that rag?" She dared to ask. He shoved his hands in his pocket as he chuckled angrily, maybe that would reduce the anger boiling within him. "I did not question you for what you did to my own mother, I did not question you for indirectly calling that girl a slave. But you have the audacity to come block my path and say nonsense to me like I'm your kid." There was no heat in his voice, as if his heart beat was steady, or he wasn't angry. "I... I.... What do you mean? I'm the bad person? You insulted me so many times in front of that girl. What have I done to you to get that kind of embarrassment in front of that rag...."