The headache clasped my head again and I didn't feel like getting off the bed in the morning. Our group of closest friends were going horse riding today, after breakfast and what the rest had planned I didn't know and neither wanted to know.
When Ramsha came back from the washroom and found me still in the bed, she pulled the duvet off me and putting both her hands on her hips regarded me with a glare.
"Don't you dare freaking tell me you don't want to go, Mashal."
With a grey button down and khaki, and boots, it was hard to miss that she was going for anything other than horse riding. Brown curls up in a ponytail that swung lightly behind her neck as she spoke, I felt a rush of fondness for her and smiled instinctively. "No, I don't." I spoke slowly.
"Come on, Mashal, tell me you're joking?" She said and came to sit beside me on the bed.
"I'm not, Ramsha." I sighed and felt a searing pang of pain resonating inside my skull. "I really don't feel like it. I'll be in the room."
She didn't say anything for an entire moment and only regarded me with a mingled expression of deep concern and worry. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"
"I don't-"
She cut me short. "I know there's something going on with you, I'm not stupid Mashal, nobody is. Bilal knows you're not okay, I know you're not okay. But we can't understand what could be so wrong that you can't even share with us."
Now she was making me feel guilty.
"But we don't want you to let us in if you don't want to, but we also really desperately want to help you out of this. Tell me what can I do?"
Her tone, the warmth in her voice and her gaze brought tears to my eyes, but I had to swallow them in. I couldn't cry and ruin her trip. Shaking my head kept against the pillow, and trying my best to not sound broken, I said, "I'm sorry, Ramsha. I really am, but-I just don't feel like sharing it with you yet. I feel like sharing it with anybody would somehow, I don't know, make it more humongous to bear than it already is."
She scooted closer. "Is it," for some reason she hesitated, "is it too bad that-that you can't let it go and enjoy your time here. I mean it won't be coming back."
"It's really hard, but I am trying."
A faint smile came up on her lips, and she gave a nod. Covering my hand with hers, she opened her mouth to say something but stopped and looked at me with eyes wide. Quickly she brought her hand up to my forehead and I realised she was checking my temperature. "Oh my God, Mashal you're burning!"
Oh. I thought I felt like it. "I'll be fine."
"Do you have a tablet?" She demanded, taking her hand away.
"Yes, I do."
"When do you plan on taking it?"
"After eating something." I provided.
"Good. Now go wet your limbs, stay in the bed, and do not cover yourself with duvet no matter how cold you feel, got it?"
I laughed morosely. "Got it. I know, I'm as much of a doctor as you are."
"You're more of a patient right now. Though I hope you know how to take care of yourself."
"Yes, I do. And now you can go."
"Okay." She exhaled and nodded.
"Really go, I'll be fine."
She sighed and stood up. "Bye."
I smiled and watched her get out of the room. After an entire minute after she had left, I realised Noshaba hadn't because I could hear the sound of water from the washroom. All dressed and ready, cladded in jeans and a kurti, hair down and pushed back from the front with a cloth band, she came out and upon finding me lying in the bed asked if I wasn't coming along.
"Everything good?"
"Yeah, just a fever." I said airily.
With a nod and telling me to take care, she left as well.
I stared at the closed door, and then when the weight from the revelations of last night settled back on my heart, I turned sides and closed my eyes, listening to the heavy beating inside my chest.
---
At some point, I got up and washed my face, then dragged myself to the kitchen, my head spinning. Avoiding the huddled people in there at my best, I quietly grabbed a sandwich and a pack of milo from the refrigerator and went to the microwave. As the sandwich heated, Maria found me standing in the kitchen corner and came over. I groaned in sheer annoyance and when she approached me, I didn't try to act nice.
"Leave me alone, Maria. I don't want to talk."
She looked taken aback but I didn't care and turned as a beep arose from the microwave. Once I took the sandwich out, she had already gone. With a sigh of relief, I came back to the room.
I felt like I was continuously revolving around in an endless spiral of everything awry. At moments I felt numb as if my mind couldn't fathom the enormity and the graveness of the situation, and then the waves of anguish would crash on my heart, like the tides at full moon, overwhelming me to the point where breath would knock out of me. I didn't want to believe he was dead, that there was no chance at all that I could see him again. Why did regret have to exist in this already sad world?
As I chewed on the sandwich, my mouth working, a lone tear rolled down my cheek. And then I heard the door open and hastily made to wipe it away.
Bilal walked in and his eyes found mine.
"Were you crying?" He asked, his tone demanding as he came to my bed.
I shook my head.
"Don't lie. Your eyes are red." He sat down in front of me.
"Must be the fever." I mumbled, keeping my voice as low as possible, afraid he might notice the slight waver in it.
"Did you take the tablet yet?" He leaned in and peered into my eyes, but I dropped my gaze.
"Was about to." I replied, inserting a straw into the milo pack.
He didn't say anything for a moment, and silence descended between us where he watched me take a sip.
Bringing the pack down, I said, "You didn't go with the others?"
"No, I lingered with the fifth-years," he shrugged and added, "played snooker."
I gave a nod. I wanted him to take his eyes off me, for I was afraid if he looked any longer I might lose my calm.
"If you want to go home, I'd take you back. Just say it."
I couldn't hold it any longer and gasped a sob in an effort to keep it in. Bilal instantly jumped closer and brought his arms around me.
"Hey, hey it's okay."
Putting my head on his shoulder, I clung to his shirt and sobbed. "Everything has messed up, Bilal."
"It's going to be alright, Mahsal. Everything eventually does." Moving his hand down my hair, he said softly.
I pulled away from him and wiped the tears with the heels of my hands, shaking my head. "No it won't, it can't Bilal, it can't." My mind rolled into a sudden tirade of emotions. I didn't know if I should tell him, but my mouth worked on its own accord and before I could have reached a decision, I blurted out, "You know who kidnapped me?"
His eyebrows furrowed. "Who?"
"Adil. My Uncle's son. My cousin."
He looked flabbergasted. "What?!"
I then told him everything, with surprisingly no regret, and found myself a little relieved once it was all out. I thought it'd feel worse if I shared it with anybody else, but I was clearly wrong. We shouldn't try to make ourselves believe we're stronger than we can be. It's like pushing your own head into the waterhead so you couldn't breathe. Telling him made me realize that while what happened was not okay in the least bit, to bring things back on track there was a lot that could be done.
"I'm sorry for what happened. If you want to go to his grave I'd take you." He squeezed my hand.
A tear rolled down to my chin. I nodded and found him bringing his fingers to brush it away. I was spectacularly moved by what Bilal had been doing for me for the past few months all of a sudden. But my life was tumbling down and there was so much dark in it right now I didn't want to look towards the light and burn my eyes.
"You can't change anything, you know that right?"
I gave a nod.
"You don't have to have regret for what happened. You can still go and meet him, he might be able to listen. And if you want to compensate for what your father did, you can do what Adil said, and also prove him wrong."
I lowered my gaze, suddenly embarrassed of the crimes of my father against his own brother. Looking at the milo juice box, I slowly moved my head in agreement.
"If you want me to say something to Adil-"
I knew what he was going to say so I interrupted him in the sentence and shook my head. "No, it's fine. He wouldn't hurt me." I added after a small pause, not having the slightest idea why I said it. It was true though, I knew that.
"Plus, this is basically his place, I couldn't exactly tell him to fuck off." Bilal chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to lighten the mood with really ill timed humour, in my opinion.
Every muscle in my body stood on alert at that. "What?"
So not only did I have a father who had apparently ruined his family but I was also strutting about his farmhouse, throwing allegations of corruption and threat at him as if I owned the place.
"Well, not really. It's his mother's younger brother's. But I heard he comes here a lot." Bilal explained.
An 'oh' was all I could manage.
"Stay away from him?" He peered into my eyes. He posed it more as a question than an order.
"Yes."
"Want to come with me?" A few bangs of his hair were hovering above his eye as he said that, and as I looked at him, I felt the urge to move them away.
"No, I'm fine here."
"Do you want me to stay?"
I did. But I also wanted to sort things out. I shook my head. I thought I saw a flicker of hurt flash in his eyes, as he pressed my hand against his and them stretched up a smile. "I won't leave until you take the tablet."
I tried to curl my lips upwards for his sake, but they only lifted barely and I thought it looked more like a grimace. I quickly finished the milo, while Bilal poured some water into the glass from the jug on the side table and offered to me when I was done with the milk, with the tablet resting on the palm of his other hand.
I took both things from him, tossed the tablet into my mouth and immediately took a sip of water over it, swallowing it in.
"Good." He commented with a tone of appreciation as if I just did something that made him really proud.
***
A/n: A filler chapter to show how Mashal felt at the news of her Uncle's death.