Fiction: Resisting Taqdeer Chapter Fifty Six

Jazakallah to Haalah for letting me sit on top of her head for this chapter ❤

Chapter Fifty Six

Wrinkled arms curled possessively over my daughter’s small frame, engulfing her. My stomach twisted at the awful sight and I fought the hands restraining me. I had to get to Azmiah! I couldn’t let her be consumed by those monsters. I had to get to her!

Rayyan stepped in front of me, hiding the sight of Azmiah being carried away by the very people I’d spent a year running from. “There’s nothing we can do, Azraa,” he told me sadly. “You weren’t a good mother. If you had been, no one would’ve been able to take her away. You should’ve been better.”

My mother walked forward, her beautiful face lined with stress. “We should have taken her for ourselves,” she lamented. “We should have realized that you couldn’t be trusted with such a huge responsibility. And now she’s gone forever. You know why this is happening, don’t you Azraa?”

“Because they’re evil!” I shrieked. “They’re evil, you know they are, I told you!” My voice cracked. “I told you!” I rasped out again. “Why won’t you listen to me?”

Mom shook her head pityingly. “You still don’t understand, do you? Why won’t you take some responsibility, darling?” She cupped my face in her hands. “This is your fault,” she said kindly. “You took her son, didn’t you? You made him kill himself. Why wouldn’t she take your daughter?”

“No! No, it’s not my fault! IT’S NOT MY FAULT!”

I woke up drenched in sweat and sobbing. In her cot next to me, Azmiah howled, no doubt disturbed by her mother’s sudden, inexplicable breakdown.

I tried to calm myself, knowing that she wouldn’t stop until I had but I couldn’t. Even looking at her sweet face made the terror of my nightmare coming rushing back anew.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and scooped up Azmiah, patting her back and beginning to pace.

I shuddered uncontrollably. The dreams kept getting worse, as did the panic I felt in my chest whenever Azmiah was out of my sight. We needed to do something more. Security could be bought off, they could be distracted or killed or… anything!

I needed to be sure that no one would take Azmiah. I needed to be so sure that I wasn’t afraid to take her right to her grandparents’ doorstep. But how?

I couldn’t go to the police, I had no proof. I couldn’t hire any more security without being entirely ridiculous.

Think!

There must be something. Some way to get rid of them. Something.

I paced, racking my brain until long after Azmiah had dropped back off to sleep and my legs were aching.

There was one way to be sure neither of Mirzaq’s parents would ever want anything to do with my little girl again but to put it into motion, they’d have to come back into our lives again of their own volition.

Which they would, I knew. His father may not have cared for a little girl but I knew Shamima’s vindictiveness well. She’d take Azmiah to hurt me the way she thought I’d hurt her.

And I had hurt her. I had to admit it. That I had a hand in Mirzaq’s death, I couldn’t deny. I’d driven him crazy. I’d been no good for him. We never should have gotten married, really.

Even so, I wouldn’t let her punish me. Not by using Azmiah as a tool.

–

Something was going to happen today. I didn’t know how I knew it but I did. I went through the motions of getting both myself and Azmiah ready for the day and, with a twinge of guilt, jumped at Hajra’s offer to babysit Azmiah for a few minutes.

“I’ll be back for her soon, I promise. I just want to sit and think for a while.” I brushed her fluffy hair back.

Hajra chuckled. “Take your time. It’s no trouble to play with this little sweetheart.” She tickled Azmiah’s tummy, making her squeal.

I hesitated, suddenly second guessing myself. “If you’re sure…”

Hajra gave me a patient look. “Yes, Azraa. Go on, take a break.”

I headed out to the garden, making a beeline for my favourite bench. It’d been placed between two overgrown bushes and smelled dizzyingly good. I tucked my feet up underneath me and took a moment to just breathe in the scented air.

Then, quite by accident, a fragment of a prayer floated through my mind.

Allaahumma laa sahla ‘illa maa ja’altahu sahlan wa ‘Anta taj’alul-hazna ‘ithaa shi’ta sahlan

I recited it out loud slowly, trying to recall the exact meaning.

O Allah, there is no ease other than what You make easy. If You please You ease sorrow.

I blinked and repeated it.

Allaahumma laa sahla ‘illa maa ja’altahu sahlan wa ‘Anta taj’alul-hazna ‘ithaa shi’ta sahlan

I’d been praying more lately, mostly because either Rayyan or Zaakir would “gently” remind me until I sighed and did it. But that was rote. I said the words and made the motions but they did little to affect me.

Why then was this one little phrase affecting me so much?

I repeated it for the third time and a flash of memory danced behind my eyes.

She was hot and tired and if everybody didn’t leave her alone, she was gonna throw a tantrum. Even if she was ten. She missed her Mom and Dad and Rayyan was being mean. It wasn’t fair!

She heard pounding footsteps behind her and knew exactly who’d followed her out of class even before she turned around to look at him, red faced and out of breath.

“Hey, I know something that’ll help,” the boy said all in a rush.

She turned away and began to walk to the swings.

He followed her, saying something she couldn’t make out.

She sat at the best one, saying nothing when he took the one directly to her right.

“Allaahumma laa sahla ‘illa maa ja’altahu sahlan wa ‘Anta taj’alul-hazna ‘ithaa shi’ta sahlan,” the boy repeated. “It’s a dua.”

“I know what it is!” She snapped, offended. “Why are you telling me it?”

He scuffed a foot against the tarmac. “Well, in class, you said you were feeling sad ‘cuz things were hard. So… that’s why.”

That was nice. “Oh. Thanks. Tell me again?”

He grinned, the carefree joy that always surrounded him returning. “Sure!”

She sat quietly as he taught, carefully repeating the words after him until she knew the difficult phrase perfectly. “Why’d you even know it anyway?”

“Mom told it to me,” he explained. “’Cuz, you know, sometimes things’re hard. But it’s okay! Now all I havta do is say this and I feel better.”

“Cool!” She breathed. “Thanks Zaakir.”

I shook my head ruefully. Was there anything in my life that couldn’t be connected to that boy?

“Thanks, Zaakir,” I whispered.