Chapter Twenty-Five

Yahya's heart hammered in his ribcage as Mr. Ahamed stood up and took long strides back and forth in the corridor. Each passing minute only elevated Yahya's anxiety.

What if he had said something out of place was the constant thought burning in his soul.

"You do not have to remind me of the uncertainties of life and how many tribulations my children have been through." A silence descended on them again. "My Aashiq's demise is enough and it is something that makes me know how uncertain this life is."

"Even though you claim to know the pain we have gone through and are going through, you can never understand it."

Yahya kept quiet, his silence urging the old man to speak more. " Anjum is all I have left after my son. She is not just my daughter, rather she is my everything. My luxury falls in defeat in front of her because she is my treasure, Yahya."

" You are not asking for my daughter's hand but you are silently asking me to give up my treasure," Mr. Ahamed said, falling in his seat, " That is why it's becoming hard for me to believe your words and question your intentions. I am sorry."

Yahya moved in his seat to sit adjacent to Mr. Ahamed, he placed his hands over the old man's hands and clutched them tight. "No, don't be sorry. If I had been in your place, I would have done the same too. After all, we are talking about daughters," He said with eyes glistening, " They are not just treasures. They are the Rahma and Barakah of every household. No one has the right to look down at them. Daughters are the strength of their fathers. I know this because when Rafa got married, it pained me a lot. It took me days to accept the fact that the fairy charm of my house has gone to bestow its charm on another house."

"You see, my parents were always away. I played the role of a father and mother to her. I love her so much."

He didn't realize when his emotions started pouring from his eyes, he unwrapped his fingers from holding the old man and wiped his face. When he looked up, their eyes met. Glazed and full of understanding.

Yet Yahya could see a spark of doubt still lingering in those oceanic green eyes and he didn't have any more words to prove his love in front of him.

That's when his heart started to sink into an abyss of failure.

The dull aftertaste of the oat milk hit his palate as he took another sip of the apple crisp latte. The warm droplets that crowded his lips were a striking contrast to the cold early morning.

He better be here in five more minutes, or else this cold will settle in my bones.

His eyes watched throngs of passengers leading out of the terminal, fatigued and expectant of a warm bed to sleep in soon. It was only 7 am, and no one wanted to be awake this early on a Saturday. That was exactly why Mahad had taken the 7 am flight, it would beat the crowds, he had said. But it had also meant Abdur Rehman had left his beautiful wife in bed at 5:30 am and started towards LAX.

"Where are you, Mahad?" Abdur Rehman whispered to himself, looking for his best friend. He needed to drop Mahad home before returning in time for breakfast and the soccer match he had painstakingly scheduled with Mahi, Yahya and Ahmed.

A yawning Mahad finally appeared from the terminal, lazily surveying the area to find Abdur Rehman.

"Doctor saab," Abdur Rehman called out teasingly.

"There you are, mate," Mahad said, his mouth breaking into a grin. "Other than my wife, yours is the only face I would be willing to see this early in the day."

"I'm glad I'm that special for you." They chuckled in unison, doing a half hug. "How did the conference go?"

"Just like conferences are."

"I'm not going to ask you to elaborate on that."

"Thank you," Mahad laughed, falling in step with Abdur Rehman as they headed towards the parking lot.

Abdur Rehman's white car beeped open as they neared, a single white car in a sea of an overflowing parking structure.

"How's married life treating you?" Mahad asked, as if he hadn't only been gone for two days, but for two decades.

"Since when did we start talking about our marital lives?" His best friend teased, propping open the trunk. The friends could go on spending hours without even acknowledging that they weren't single teenagers anymore. Their friendship dynamic was shared interests and goofing off about their memories.

"Since you came to me sobbing about your crush."

Abdur Rehman groaned under the grin he was hiding.

"It's going well," he said, getting into the driver's seat.

"I'm happy for you," Mahad said with sincerity. "We all love a happy Abdur Rehman, because if he's not happy, none of us are allowed to be happy."

"Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"Take it as you may."

"Mahad..." Abdur Rehman fake growled.

"Abdur Rehman!" Tayabba's voice echoed through the staircase.

"Yes, Ma?" He called out, shrugging off the jacket he had worn all morning.

The sun had grown warm in the small duration in which he had dropped off Mahad and returned home.

"Can you drive me to the Farmer's Market?" She asked, standing at the foot of the staircase, tote bag in hand.

"Um." He knitted his brows, consulting his watch. It was 9:05, Rafa and he were scheduled to meet Mahi and the others at 11. "Ma, remember how I mentioned that Rafa and I have to go to the park? Our friends have planned a picnic." And you can always drive yourself in your own car.

"That's today?"

"How about I take you, but we'll be back quickly?" He negotiated, mentally calculating the drive back and forth. It was a stretch, because his mother liked taking her time.

His mother's jaw tightened, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she turned around and wordlessly left towards her own room. Rafa rushed out of their bedroom right then, home robe flying in the air, fuzzy slippers imprinting the carpeting.

"What do you want for breakfast?" she exclaimed, grasping his wrist. "We're getting late already."

"We have two hours to get there," Abdur Rehman assured, glad she had missed the conversation he just had with his mother.

"I promised Shabna I would bring the sandwiches."

"Sandwiches?" When did his wife start volunteering to cook?

"How about I help you?"

"Come!" She grabbed his wrist, dragging him down the stairs.

Working in unison, they boiled, mixed, chopped, fried, toasted and packed a variety of chicken, egg and veggies sandwiches. Rafa took out the bread, Abdur Rehman cut off the sides. She opened the spice drawers, he bumped them close. He diced the cabbage, and she made the sauce.

It was a beautiful spectacle of their chemistry, one that wasn't safe from an envious eye.

"Try this," she said, shoving a mixture in his mouth.

"Too much salt," he choked out, reaching for water.

She subdued the taste with mayonnaise before slathering it on the toast along with relish and mustard.

"Should we pack fruit too?" She asked out loud, already heading to the fridge without waiting for an answer.

Abdur Rehman wordlessly took out a small plastic box to store the blackberries, wondering to himself what had gotten into Rafa that morning. The last time he had seen her so fired up was...he couldn't even remember.

"Bananas? I think the kids might like them," she said out loud, grabbing the bunch.

Abdur Rehman chuckled to himself. Whatever the reason, he loved watching his wife be so full of energy.

Finishing the last of the preparations, he cleaned up the kitchen and loaded the car, while Rafa went to get ready.

The sun was rising quickly, and so were the temperatures. Rafa was glad she had opted on a cotton dress; it was breezy and the sunflower design perfectly complemented Abdur Rehman's army green soccer kit.

"Rafa!" She heard as soon as they neared the bleachers. "Over here!" She exchanged glances with her husband, saying a silent see you later before they split up; the boys on the field, their pretty wives coddling the children and laughing amongst themselves on the sidelines.

"Where's Yahya?" Abdur Rehman asked after the greeting formalities.

"He should be coming soon, he's never late," Ahmed said, looking around.

"Let's set up until then," Mahi suggested.

They relied on the younger boys to set up cones and goal posts around the field. The older ones lingered on the side, talking about politics and sports.

"Cricket is dynamic, once you get into it, there's no going back," Mahi laughed.

"I've never had the privilege to play. Baba used to watch it sometimes, but he passed away when I was young so we never got around to bonding over it," Abdur Rehman said, smiling sadly. Being deprived of a father early on had taken away many experiences from him.

"We'll teach you," Ahmed assured, slapping him on the back. "You and Yahya both."

"Speaking of Yahya, maybe we could start the game. Yahya can join us in the middle," Abdur Rehman suggested, glancing at his watch. He wanted to return home at an appropriate time, his mother was already sulking enough.

"Yeah, let's do it." Mahi exchanged glances with Ahmed, agreeing.

Saad was overjoyed to referee in place of Yahya, directing the adults with a valid excuse.

"Ahmed Uncle you can't do that! That's cheating!" Saad exclaimed, watching Ahmed tackle the ball from Mahi. Ahmed laughed out loud, paying no heed.

"That's not how you do it," Yahya said, appearing beside Saad.

"Yahya Uncle! When did you come?" He eyed the blond's haphazardly thrown on soccer uniform. It was like he had walked through a forest and climbed a mountain to reach the park.

"Just now." Yahya ran a hand through his light beard.

"Yahya!" The men said in unison, halting the game to approach him.

"You finally made it," Mahi said.

"I was starting to think you took a wrong turn and went off the continent," Ahmad joked in good nature.

"I...I had some prior commitments," he finally confessed, not elaborating what. His face was a mixture of emotions, his disheveled state leaving them guessing.

Where had he been? What commitment? Why did he look so unlike himself?

"Well, should we resume now that you're here?" Abdur Rehman wondered, directing the attention away from him.

"Saad, do you want to play with us so that we're even teams?" Mahi asked.

"Wait, I'll play."

Yahya's bold statement left all of them puzzled. Yahya was volunteering to play? Something must have happened indeed!

"Come on then," Mahi announced, taking the lead and breaking them out of their surprised states.

As the boys played, the ladies watched on in an equal state of surprise.

"Yahya's really good," Samra said, watching on.

"Lower your voice or else your possessive hubby will hear you," Shabna teased, acting witty in Fathima's absence. Usually Fathima or Rafa were the ones who teased and joked, but today Fathima and Ali had been busy with some chores and couldn't make it.

"I'm surprised he's playing," Rafa mused, staring at her brother in puzzlement. Something was up.

"That's not the only thing to be surprised about, I assure you," Shabna said, moving baby Khadijha from one hip to the other.

"What else are you surprised by?"

"Your sandwiches! Who knew you were such a chef!"

Rafa threw back her head and chuckled.

"Looks like your mother in law has been teaching you," Samra said.

"She's definitely been teaching me," Rafa replied, not elaborating on what.

Her companions didn't get a chance to ask her anything further, because the men were coming back to the bleachers for half time. They got into action to bring out the snacks and the drinks.

"How are you feeling?" Rafa asked her brother, offering him a clear plastic glass of flavored water. She looked at his leg, referring to any pain or discomfort.

"I'm fine," he assured, dismissing her worries. "Hey," he moved closer, his voice falling into a whisper, "can we meet after we're done here? I have to tell you and Abdur Rehman something."

"Something?" She asked quizzically.

"Later."

"Okay." She nodded at him suspiciously. She was definitely going to meet him later. She had to find out what was going on. 

We are back on track and this time, we both want to finish this book for sure.

I have two questions,
What happened to Rafa? 👀
What happened with Yahya? 🤔
Any guesses?