Beneath Guarded Hearts - 64

Previously…

Asma

Alia: “Am I understood?”

I nodded slowly, and she let go of her painful grip on my hair as I massaged my scalp. She gave me a resentful glance before she left, and I gave in to my shaking legs as I slid down to the ground slowly, my back crushed against the surface of the cold mirror.

I was stuck with an absolute maniac. And if I didn’t leave soon, I would have to meet the source of her unstable resent: her father.

__________

Asma

            He had the most revolting features, and age had not helped him at all. Yet in a very strange, scary way, I found a familiar face in him that I couldn’t exactly pin point out. Have I seen this man before from somewhere?

Alia’s Father: “Asma. W a5eeran etsharafna eb ma3rftch.”

            He gave me a cold smile, his voice filled with scrutiny as he addressed me. Even through his fixed composure, his level of hatred towards me radiated from his entire being. What in the world did baba to do this man? And what do I have to do with any of it? It’s not like baba ever favored me out of my other siblings. I couldn’t find any words, couldn’t phrase an appropriate sentence in my head. I have been scared before, but right at this moment, I was chilled with terror to the marrow of my bones.

            I had to run, and fast. But where to? I had no idea where we were, and when I had tried to look through the pixelated surface of the bathroom window, I saw nothing but the blurred stretch of an empty desert. Oh, if only I had my phone…

Alia’s Father: “Esma7eely, ma 3raftch be esmy… Ana Ahmad Khaleefa Al-X, and I have come to meet the sister of my soon-to-be son-in-law.”

            I merely stared at him in confusion; I was too terrified to breathe to even consider asking him what the heck he was talking about. But then my mind tried to mind map it and connect the dots. The sister of his soon-to-be son-in-law? Wait a second, does that mean that…

No.

It can’t be.

Me: “ALIA IS MARRYING SUL6AN?!!!!”

Ahmad: “Laish mista3’reba? Chaih ma7ad em5abrinich el salfa?”

            I shook my head slowly in dazed disbelief. My pulse had already accelerated into frenzy, my cheeks flushed in fury, and I entered into a state of panic. This man was absolutely irrational and completely out of his mind.

            He gave out a triumphed, bittersweet laugh.

Ahmad: “Obooch el 3’aly, ya Asma, ma wgaf weya klmiteh. Obooch 5ayen w chathab w mayfaker ela fe 3mra. A7eena ele estwa estwa, I am merely collecting what I had been promised years ago.”

Me: “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!”

            He raised a brow at me. I didn’t know where I found this kind of voice, for not only moments ago I was shivering in utter fear, unable to think for myself, unable to trust my own words. But anger replaced my terror, for my protectiveness towards my family out beat everything.

Me: “SUL6AN MA BAYITZAWAJ AY 7AD! MB 3ALAIH AY SHAY HATHA BAINIK W BAIN BABA LAT7I6EH 3ALA 3YALEH!”

Out of nowhere, Alia’s voice interrupted mine, reminding me that I wasn’t the only one in the room.

Alia: “Latraf3een 9ootch, sho hai el 8ilat el 2adab! Lo knty 3aisha fe wagtna knty batin6’irbain mn hal lsan el 6weel!”

Ahmad: “Alia. Bass.”

            One look made her mouth shut. She clenched her fists and left the room in the elegance of an aristocrat and a fury of a burning soul. How she handled her father every single day was beyond me.

            I dug my nails into my own palms as I closed my fingers into a fist.

Me: “Sul6an ystahal akthar. And you’ll make your daughter miserable; bat5areb 7yat-hm, matshoof inh malh mnh fayda?! 5ala9 ele estwa estwaa, laish 7a8id 3ala ele mi6’a w ra7? It’s not like you had a mis-”

            The other stranger whose name I still didn’t know appeared out of nowhere, her face worry-stricken and desperate.

“He took her, they took her!”

Ahmad: “Wal, hady 3ala a39abch, mno ele ma5theenha?”

“Alia, bntik Alia! Wa7ed 6ila3 out of nowhere w 5i6afha! W ma batit5ayal mno kan weyah: Rashid!”

He raised his brow, the only sign of emotion, or ghost of an emotion, I had seen all day.

Ahmad: “Rashid weld Flan Al-X?”

“Haaih!”

            I watched his reaction carefully for any signs of fatherly worry, but I couldn’t get a flicker of feeling out of him. He was like a numb robot that sensed nothing for anyone or anything, and I was starting to wonder what kind of a childhood Alia grew up in.

            I also knew whom the Rashid she mentioned was. I was also positive about whom the anonymous kidnapper was.

            A silent smile stretched across my face.

My 3bdulla had come for me.

To be continued…