When thinking of Dubai, people often envision luxury apartments and opulent fabrics of gold. Zarah, too, desired this for herself, but her dreams took an unforeseen turn. Now, she can only hope for a more comfortable life in the apartment her husband secured, despite it being an old and worn place with fading paints.

To top things up, she did pretty bad in the spouse department: a drunk, that was who she married. Packing her husband vomit was the last thing she imagined would happened, yet she eagerly clean the floor like Cinderella as the night owl hoot and the stray cats meowed at racoons who were stupid to search for food in a poor person's trashcan.

"I can't stand these anymore Yusuf, you keep on getting drunk. It's bad for our daughter, I thought you said you'll quit?" Zarah yelled silently at her drunk husband, covering her nose as the stench of half-digested food mixed with alcohol hit her nostrils.

He'd gotten drunk again that night, the way he always did. Routinely, Zarah would pack the puddle of vomits without question, but that night, something had snapped, she had suddenly became tired of such horrible life.

"Woman get to work, and stop complaining. If you want to complain, get out of my house yalla," Yusuf, in his drunk state, yelled at Zarah, who seemed to have lost faith in their marriage. That was all she had to hear, that word broke the marital connection she'd tried to maintain for a long now.

The intensity in Yusuf's voice woke their three years old daughter up, she came out of the bedroom, looking at her parents with sleepy eyes. "Baba?" She said, rubbing her eyes with her small palms.

"Oh houb, there you are." Yusuf's intoxication was palpable, as he tripped on his way to hug his daughter.

"Baba!" Her eyes lit up, she was about to give her father a hug before Zarah took her hands forcefully.

"Let's go Safeenah, your father is not in his right sense, and I swear by Allah, if things stays this way we are not coming back." Zarah announced, her voice reeking with threat as she glared at Yusuf in the verge of tears, "we are staying with Aunty Noor tonight." She turned at her daughter, wiping her tears.

"Yay!" Clueless Safeenah exclaimed, running inside the bedroom to pack her pyjamas.

"C'mon Habibti, I was just saying nonsense."

"I took your nonsense for long, not anymore." Determination could be perceived from Zarah's voice, Yusuf thought the night will go the way it always went; unbeknownst to him, his wife had cooked up a plan. She followed Safeenah to the bedroom, to get her stuff. She took what looked like eternity before finally pushing out two grey suitcases, her daughter's hand in hers.

"This is temporary, right?" Yusuf inquired, regaining consciousness.

"Good bye Yusuf, at least you'll be happy without me." With these words, Zarah walked out of the bondage of a marriage she was in with her daughter, banging the door and Safeenah waving at her father. Yusuf on the other hand was sober and he did nothing but watch the love of his life walk out in absolute hatred towards him.

It was temporary, or at least Yusuf thinks.

♥

Three years have passed by so fast like a zephyr,  but Zarah's misfortune didn't follow, at least a drunk husband has been deducted from her misfortunes in life — The break she had with Yusuf wasn't temporary after all. Over the years she struggled with the divorce formalities, Yusuf's love for her was palpable, so it took him months if not a year to sign the divorce papers. The documents were just to make things formal, Zarah had already broken their marital rites with him way longer than he could ever knew of.

Even when she'd divorced Yusuf, nothing changed in her life; the typical Dubai dream she'd was still far from her reach. She thought she could do better on her own but the only shelter she could find was one-room apartment, inside the apartment, her belongings are scattered haphazardly, creating an atmosphere of disarray. The small space is divided by a worn curtain, creating a small bedroom. Cobwebs cling to corners, signifying there were other insects living rent free with her. The perfect Halloween decoration.

The ringing of the door bell was persistent, Zarah was inside, she heard her doorbell ring but she was too lazy to get it. She groaned on the bed, turning to the other side of bed. The person ringing from the doorstep was sure he saw someone through the keyhole. He banged the door after he noticed it was hopeless ringing the doorbell.

Five minutes of patiently knocking, the door was opened and Zarah peeped from the small space she'd created. She was still sleepy as she looked at the intruder. "What?" She yawned carelessly, frowning.

"Rent is due." The bald man in front of her said, scornfully. She looked up at him for again, rubbing the sleep off her face, she gasped.

"I'm so sorry sir, I didn't know it was you." Zarah apologized, opening the door properly. "I know the rent is due sir, I am going to pay you as soon as I receive my paycheck, I swear by Allah." Zarah said in a calm manner, her landlord still had frown plastered on his face, "you're the best sir, you know I have got many responsibilities, Safeeneh's tuition fee won't pay itself." Zarah ranted with an enthusiastic smile, aiming at the landlord's soft spot.

"It's not my fault you can't send your daughter to a public school like normal poor people does, who are you even pleasing?" Her Landlord blurted in anger, tutted before walking off, he knew she always had an excuse, besides, there are many occupants on his list of debtors.

"Mr. Malik, my daughter's education is much more important! Thank you!" Zarah yelled at the back of the old man's head and closed the door. Looking at the mess she was living in, she knew she'd failed somewhere, yet again. But what gave her confidence was that Safeenah's elite education didn't stop.

"Oh Allah, it's harder than I thought it would be. Raising a child alone? I bet Yusuf is having a good life right now." Zarah said with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling, she saw the cobwebs the cheap asbestos harbored. "What the? When did it spread like this? Damn you spiders," she dramatically curse at the spiders and walked to bring out her cleaning supplies — the least she could do is clean the rathole of a house she was living in.

"Salaam Ummi, I'm back." A child's meek voice could be heard before the door was opened. Safeenah stepped inside after she'd remove her muddy sandals at the foyer. "Mum, you're cleaning?" She inquired, jumping up to hug Zarah.

Her joy was noticeable, Zarah sure took care of her. Her warm skin tone was a testament of Zarah's care to her, her hair also was groomed properly it ranged from straight to curly, reflecting the diversity within Arab communities. Her bright and innocent smile lights up her face, expressing the joy and curiosity typical of her age. The love she had for Zarah emitted clearly.

"Yes I am, come here." Zarah picked Safeenah up and hugged her so tight. "How was school, houb? I bet you must be hungry let me get you something." She kissed her cheeks and keep her down.

"Ummi, so I am not eat takeout today? Yay!" The little girl exclaimed happily, jumping on her feet, "tank you so much, you're the best."

"You're not eating takeout, but a frozen one," Zarah said with a smug smile before she brought out two Chinese food from the deep freezer. "Bon appetit."

"But ummi, you said. Forget it! " Safeenah whined angrily as she strap opened the frozen noodles. "At Least let it have a microwave," Safeenah suggested with an irritated facial expression.

"No, the repairman said it cost a lot, and I'm off budget," Zarah declined as continued with her work, "—don't you know, frozen noodles are the best." Zarah added.

"Since when have we bought these," Safeenah asked, pointing at the frozen food.

"Last week?" Zarah replied.

"Yuk!" Safeenah dramatically expressed, rushing to the toilet to throw up.

"Will you need a tissue darling?" Zarah called from the living room.

"No. I'm good."

The ringing of Zarah's phone made her stopped cleaning for a moment. She walked to where she'd deliberately flung her phone, wiped the dust that had scattered on the phone. Her brows furrowed as she sighted it was an unknown number.

Hesitantly, she accepted the call, "Assalamualaikum," she spoke, waiting for the caller to reply.

"Wa'alaikum salaam Fateemah."  The caller said back, their voice was static, like it was going to break at any moment — Zarah figured the reception was bad. She was also unsettled by what she was being called, only her highschool friends call her Fateemah: and they're all separated by the cruel limbs of life.

"Zarah," the caller corrected, "it's been a while since we spoke, kayf haluk?"

"Alhamdulilah, who's this?"

"Sorry. I forgot you don't have this number, it's Mustaqeem?" The caller introduced, voice breaking.

"Mustaqeem? Subhanallah, how've you been? Pardon me, I didn't know it was you, the reception made your voice older," Zarah said, snorting at her bad sense of humor. "How's your wife?" She inquired.

"We're all fine, I'm currently not in Dubai, I'm in Qatar, we went to pay Baba and Mama homage, how are things there?"

"Alhamdulilah," Zarah simply stated, "I guess," she ended with an anguished sigh. Things weren't going great and she knows it: but all she could do was send some gratification to Allah, being alive was a blessing and even gaining the custody of her daughter as well.  "I'm sorry I didn't call,"

"No worries yalla, so... how's Safeenah?"

"She's fine." Zarah answered, wiggling the broom she  was supposed to clean with.

"Who's that, ummi!" Safeenah yelled from the washroom.

"It's uncle Mustaqeem, Habibi." He heard Safeenah's voice over the call, "listen Zarah, I've got good news and bad news."

Zarah's heart pounded, her life was bad news through and through, yet she dreaded the one her highschool friend was about to unleash upon her. "What.. is that?" She said, worriedly. She took a seat for the news.

"The bad news is, Mimi died... So sad."

Sarah released a sigh of relieve, "I swear by Allah you're a crazy person, I thought something happened. Your gold fish died and you're calling that bad news? Rich people are so unbelievable."

"Yeah. Yeah. The good new is, I got you a job at the palace in Dubai." Mustaqeem spoke, Zarah couldn't believe her ears and she froze, hearing the word palace somewhat made her fantasies about making it in life someday breath, her heart raced at Mustaqeem's word. "You're welcome." He added, bringing Zarah out of her thought.

"Oh my bad, Shukra Mustie, I can't believe you did that for me." Zarah nearly jumped up, "wait, hope it's not a cleaner's job?" She inquired.

"It's not, the classy Zarah can't get filth in her fingers." Mustaqeem joked, making both of them chuckle, "seems like your French bachelor's degree is useful after all."

"What do you mean, it has been always useful," Zarah nagged with a tut.

Mustaqeem scoffed rhythmically, "you and your ego. Well listen; the crown prince is in need of a French translator, and the Sheik wants the best person for his son, so you came to my mind."

"Subhanallah, the Prince. You mean the Prince Abubakar? I'm so happy right now, thank you so much Mustaqeem!" Zarah exclaimed as she picked Safeenah up as she walked out of restroom.

"Yes him, I have already arranged everything, the job is yours."

"Mustaqeem, you're a live safer, y'know. Thank you."  Zarah said, gratefully.

"Uthman will come pick you up." Mustaqeem added.

"What, Uthman Abu-Zayd?" Zarah inquired, "wait, not him." She whined, nibbling on her lower lip.

"—Yeah, your highschool admirer," He replied and his voice broke totally, a screeching feedback bursted out of the phone's mouthpiece, the reception went off totally.

"Hello, Salaam? Mustaqeem, don't you dare?" Zarah yelled frantically. The vexation that Uthman's name brought to her wasn't as much as the happiness the new job Mustaqeem had gotten her ignited inside her. At that moment she felt bittersweet, working with Uthman Abu-Zayd, sure will woke up old memories and feelings; she had to do it after all — for her daughter at least.

"Mum, what's the good news, are we cooking?" Safeenah teased, turning on the old model LG tv, the tv illuminated the room, showing a replaying Arabian fashion show.

"We are meeting the Prince of Dubai!"

"No way!" Safeenah exclaimed,

"Yes way!" Zarah said, tangoing with the broom in her hand. Her tango was cut abruptly by the chiming of her smartphone. It was a notification from Mustaqeem. She clicked on the message bubble that was floating on the screen of her phone.

Unknown: The reception here is bad, I can only send you SMS. Don't nag about Uthman, just find a way to work with him... Without fighting him (lol). Tbh, I had no idea it was him.

He is picking you up next week, get yourself ready, you're meeting the Prince!!

As she read the text message, she stared at the ceiling, raising her hand up. "Mother look at your daughter, she is going to see the Prince. You always say studying French is a mistake, seems like you're wrong, I'm going places by Allah's will." She yelled loudly at the ceiling covered with cobwebs. Safeenah hugged her mother from behind, pressing her small face inside her skirt.

"I'm happy for you ummi. You're the best."

Zarah crouched down to Safeenah's level, "you're the best daughter, you're Allah's blessing to me, my perfect Safeenah." She kissed her daughter's forehead deeply.

If she was grateful for one thing, it would be for the gift of motherhood — Safeenah was a blessing from above.