Chapter 9

Anger curled hot and unstoppable in her gut, like a blazing inferno that wanted to burn her from the inside out. She stormed towards the bathroom and blew open the door. Few minutes later, she came out and took her hijab before leaving her room to the living room. He raised his head from his phone and rested his eyes on her. She briskly looked away from him as she folded her arms on her chest, tapping one foot on the soft carpet. He exhaled sharply and place upright. Ahmad looked tough, he looked like he didn't care whatsoever she did. He looked like he could endure her hurtful words or the fact that she was still chasing another man. Deep down in him, he knew he couldn't but he has to. He has to be strong, at least for the sake of ummah. After they have prayed, he asked Allah for the good of that which has come to them, and seek refuge in Him from evil. Ahmad turned around and faced her. He stared at her face for an uncomfortable amount of time. She ducked her head when she figured out he wasn't going to stop staring and she was petrified to get up and leave. Instantaneously, he gently placed his palm on her forehead. Ahmad recited a Du'a for her, asking Allah for the goodness within her and the goodness that He has made her inclined towards, and he takes refuge with Allah from the evil within her and evil that Allah has made her inclined towards. He took his hand off her forehead and got to his feet. Without a back glance, Ahmad ambled towards his room and left her there staring at his retreating back. Hidayah scoffed and looked away. She rise to her feet, mumbling. She walked in sad silence, back to her room. Their life went on with no progress concerning their relationship. It has to be one problem to another. It had come to a point where coming home was his great nightmare. Not only because of Hidayah's waywardness, but because of the way she had turned the house. She never tidies up or cook. He was more infuriated about how the house looked untidied. He looked around the indecent living room, the dining looked way worse than the living room. His vision went fuzzy and he tensed his muscles. Barging into her room, he walked further into the room until he was standing before her. 'Haven't I told you to clean up this house before I come back?" Ahmad desperately tried to sound calm but he couldn't calm his nerves. He had never felt so certain of anything else in his life. He had endured her crap for too long. Nonchalantly, Hidayah raised her head up from the book she was reading. It's been more than 3 months and she still hasn't gotten a new phone. 'And haven't I told you to never expect any wife duties from me? Or are you deaf or dumb?" She rolled her eyes afterwards, averting her gaze from him. His eyes pleading gazed upon hers, trying to search for a reason, reason why she was trying him like garbage. He jerked his head back triumphantly. He couldn't believe what Hidayah had said to him as he fell into utter silence. His mouth opened, his body didn't move. The colour drained from his face as he stared at her in disbelief. 'Did you... did you just say that to me?" He finally found his voice. 'You know what? Don't bother..." Ahmad sauntered out of the room. Her laugh was contagious and sounded more like an evil cackle than an expression of amusement. 'You haven't seen anything." Her laughter could be heard throughout the house. It made him so infuriated that he had to leave the house. ** He dropped the take away in front of her and walked out of the room without uttering a word to her. She looked at the paper bag and smirked. Despite the fact that she has been treating him like trash, Ahmad always made sure he bought food for her whenever he was coming back from work. Now it had reached to a point where he has to call her sister, Nafisa to come help her clean the house. Whenever Nafisa was coming, he made sure ummah doesn't know the tangible purpose behind Nafisa's visit to their house. Getting her worried was the last thing Ahmad wanted. Hidayah dropped the book she was reading and scooted closer to the paper bag. She brought out the first take away, it penned in her favourite pasta inside of it. With a sly smile, she opened the takeaway and grabbed the fork inside. The sight and aroma of the food was a gentle massage to her soul. She shoved a forkful of food into her mouth, eyes closed. Shoving one hand into his pocket, his eyes focused on her as she enjoyed her lunched. He cleared his throat, almost making Hidayah to choke on the food she was about to swallow. He shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly when she shot him a dead look. 'What are you doing in my room? Don't you know how to knock?" Her temper and voice started to rise. 'I'm traveling tomorrow morning." He dropped a bunch of money by her side drawer. 'If you need anything, you can send one of the securities to get it for you." He stated, expecting things to be done as he wanted it to be. She folded her arms, her mouth opened but words couldn't find their way out.... 'So... so what are you trying to say; that you expect me to stay locked up on this house till you feel like coming back from wherever you're going? I don't have the right to go visit my family? Is that what you're trying to imply here?" A long sigh escaped his lips and shook his head deliberately. He continued speaking, 'and uh... Nafisa will be here tomorrow. She'll be staying here with you before I come back, and I will be calling through her phone everyday to check up you." Hidayah had longed taken her eyes off him. For so many reasons, she was gratified to hear that. Without expecting any responds from her, Ahmad ambled out of the room. She looked at the door and glared at it before she hissed and turned away. She packed up the leftovers and took it to the kitchen. Looking around the house, she felt revolted and penitential to leave her house looking like that. What if she had visitors coming over? Hidayah abruptly snapped herself back to reality. She shouldn't be worried about the house being untidy or embarrassed about having visitors. Her top worry was the best way to handle Capt. Ahmad Muhammad Mahmud! She mumbled under her breath as she walked back to her room. The next morning, she woke up to the sound of the doorbell. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes, then got up to answer. Her grin was already forming before she opened the door. As she anticipated, Nafisa stood by the doorstep, her suitcase standing beside her. Hidayah squealed and pulled her in and caught her off guard. 'Hey... I missed you too but you're hugging me too... tight." Hidayah chuckled softly as she freed Nafisa from her tight embrace. 'Come in please." Hidayah ushered her in. 'Whoa, Yaya, you still don't clean the house? Just look at your living room, no human being with right sense will actually..." 'Oh please, if he wants to see his house looking spotless, he should do it himself or hire a maid or whatever, I don't care." Hidayah had a habit of cutting in before you get the chance to finish your sentence. Nafisa mentally brushed off Hidayah's comment and moved on. She followed Hidayah upstairs to her room. Nafisa still insisted. 'Yaya." She called out to her. Hidayah looked at her from her closet. 'What is the reason behind all of this mess?" She asked, referring to the untidy living room. 'What mess?" Hidayah continued browsing through her closet. She knew what Nafisa was talking about, and they have talked about it several times, she still couldn't wrap it in her head that she'd actually do any wife duties because of him. The only thing she does is clean her own room and cook for herself. 'The whole house is a mess but your room. That's so unlike you. I know how you hate untidy places, I know how you love cooking, and I know how creative you can be, what happened to that?" Hidayah averted her gaze to her sister when she finished talking. 'By Allah, ya Hidayah this man is just being patient with you. Just imagine, it's been almost four months but..." 'Oh please save me the crap, Nafisa." She cuts her off. 'Who told you that I will ever take him as my husband? Who told you that I will ever for in love with this man? When I already have someone waiting for me? Haha, never! And If he wants someone that'll cook for him and take care of the house then he should hire a maid or even better; divorce me and marry another woman." Hidayah hissed and stormed out of the room. Nafisa stared at the door, disenchanted. This was not how she imagined things to be. She knew it wasn't going to be easy to convince Hidayah just with a blink of an eye but she could never have imagined her to say such down casting words. Later in the evening, Nafisa cleaned the kitchen after she was done cooking dinner. Hidayah sauntered in and grunted almost immediately. 'What?" Nafisa gave her a questioning look. 'Aren't you tired? You've been cleaning all day. You should get some rest, we can do this tomorrow morning." Hidayah opened the food warmer and beamed. 'You cooked?" She walked to where the plates were and took one of it. She served herself a plateful of goodies and settled down on one of the long stools in the kitchen. 'Of course I did. Since you won't cook for you husband...." 'Please, Nafisa just... not now. I need not to lose my appetite." Nafisa shrugged her shoulders. 'It's just facts. And he's just being patient with you cause he's obviously in love with you." Hidayah's entire body jerked to a stand still unexpectedly. Her breathing had become light and her mouth gaped. 'I could tell by the way he looks at you, he knows you are stubborn. But I could tell by the way he's being so patient and careful with you. I know for one thing he won't give up." Nafisa dried her hand with a dry towel before she calmly strolled out of the kitchen. Hidayah stared down at her food like it had suddenly changed taste. Her heart pounded and her mind churned. For several moment she sat there unmoving. Her limbs went numb with absolute shock. There was a bitter taste in the back of her mouth that she couldn't get rid of. If what Nafisa mentioned was true, then her chances of getting a divorce was low but a chance of hurting him had just increased. She rose to her feet with a growing sense of doom. There must be another way out of this dark cave.