30th March, 2016

"And [remember] when your Lord proclaimed, 'If you are grateful, I will surely increase you [in favor]; but if you deny, indeed, My punishment is severe.'"

[Surah Ibrahim]

Chapter 3:

The Sound of Heartbreak

She was never the kind to stand out. She could easily pass unnoticed in crowds and if there was a group of ten, she wasn't the girl who caught your attention in the first few seconds.

She was always the quiet kind. She hated crowds, and she was a nature freak. She didn't mind that she wasn't too popular or have a huge set of friends because to begin with, few people meant lesser issues. She'd rather escape to a hill station or stay cuddled on the couch with her favourite book than actually go out and interact.

And no, she didn't want to change a bit about her. Passing unnoticed meant maintaining the mystery in her life. Not fitting in meant she had a chance to make her own mould. Not too worried about what others thought about her meant she could follow her heart.

And most importantly, not being a people's person did not make one any less confident.

She was fierce, she was content, she was kind and she was that girl who didn't catch your gaze the first instant, but once she did, you wouldn't want to take your eyes off her.

She was an undiscovered beauty, you wouldn't look at her and say she was beautiful. You'd have to look in her to get lost in her charm.

Anabya was aware of some of the charecteristics in her, while others, the positive ones to be precise, she chose to stay ignorant about. Whatever the case, the fact of the matter was, for as long as she had known, she was fine with herself. She hadn't really felt the need to change herself.

However, her thoughts were taking a different route today.

Maybe she should have been more vocal, display love for things even if she didn't like them, talk more, show more energy. Maybe she should have been like those girls who bewitched you with their charm.

Maybe she should have been like Hafsa.

Maybe then, Fadil Ahmed would have fallen for her.

At the thought, her hands stilled in typing on the keypad and she had to take a moment to calm her volcano sized thoughts.

"Were you able to come up with sufficient icebreakers for the women's session we're conducting the day after?" Hafsa's voice jolted Anabya of her thoughts, bringing her back to reality.

"I managed to get a few innovative ones," Anabya started, her features giving no hints to the wounded chambers in her heart. "What about you?"

Hafsa sighed dreamily at that and replied, "My mind has stopped working, its preoccupied with someone else's dreams."

A pain she didn't even know she could experience gnawed at her inside as Anabya saw Hafsa peek over the desk and look towards Fadil's office.

Did she really have to witness all this?

Maybe because the news from yesterday's phone call hadn't settled in yet, the universe was doing its best to throw it at her face.

"Are you almost done with yours?"

"Almost," Anabya replied, her gaze flickering to Hafsa.

"So can I fill you in about last evening?" She asked, her lips curving up as her eyes held stars.

No, please, please, no.

"Of course! I've been waiting to hear all about it," Anabya gushed, trying to act like someone who'd be happy to hear this news.

"Ok so," Hafsa began, her cheeks the shade of red as her smile showed off her perfect row of teeth. "When I went home yesterday, I asked mum for details. She said his name was Ahmed and he was someone from office. I tried thinking of our colleagues but couldn't come up with any picture in my head. And then, finally, I walked into the living room holding a tray of teacups and strategically placed the one with excess salt in front of the guy. I still hadn't seen his face, I was looking down the entire time. Then, I was asked to sit beside his mother who was seated opposite to him and when I looked up, imagine my shock when I locked gazes with Fadil. Can you believe it was THE Fadil?"

"It is hard to believe," Anabya laughed.

I should have been prepared for this.

"So did he drink the tea?"

"I was so mortified, honestly! I was trying to think of ways to take away the cup from him but you know what? When mom asked him specifically how was the tea that I had made, not only did he drink it till the last drop but also said that he hadn't tasted something like this all his life. You know, he looked at me while saying that and I couldn't maintain a straight face. He was so adorably nervous initially and don't even ask when dad asked him a few questions. He was so cute, Bee, I can't even begin to describe," Hafsa punctuated her sentence with another dreamy sigh and Anabya found it difficult to swallow the lump in her throat.

"May Allah increase your happiness with every passing day and may the two of you be the coolness of each other's eyes," she prayed, her words coming right from her heart as she bit her lip to stop the rush of emotions she felt.

She was happy for her, but at the same time, she was beginning to lose every ounce of strength she had remaining in her.

She didn't know why she not only fell in love with a guy who wasn't aware of her feelings, but she had to also see her friend starting a life with him beside her.

Every little dream she dreamt, she was seeing it fulfilled in front of her eyes. The only difference was that she saw the dream while someone else lived it.

"Aameen, Aameen," Hafsa replied to Anabya's earlier dua and then said, "Alhamdulilah, although things seem quite bright on both our sides, mum's asked them for a week's time before giving the final answer. In sha Allah, next Tuesday she'll give the reply and we'll fix the wedding dates mostly."

The word wedding sounded so heavy on her ears that Anabya involuntarily felt herself shake.

Hafsa was talking about the wedding that Anabya had planned for herself, including all the intricate details. And now, that wedding would soon be finalized, but she wouldn't be the bride.

"Ya Allah, save me," Hafsa whispered, and when Anabya looked up and followed her gaze, she found her patience being tested.

"These are for you, ma'am."

Anabya saw as the office boy handed over a bouquet of lilies, Anabya's favorite flowers, to Hafsa and neither of them had to guess who the sender was.

Well, this adulting drama should have come with a disclaimer.

On her way home, she wasn't ready to give in to the urge to break down just yet, and she hard continuously whispered a string of alhamdulillah.

She had no clue what was happening in her life, why these things intended to tear her apart. But she knew from one of the verses that if you thanked Allah, He would increase you in favors.

So she said alhamdulilah.

For she was in need of every favor she could receive.

As she made her journey back that day, she hadn't felt her heart so heavy. It was almost becoming a burden to live with it. But the only problem was that she couldn't even live without it.

After parking her bike in the basement, she made her way upstairs and at the sight of unusual footwear by the door, she knew they were having guests. She almost wished she could pass unnoticed and just reach her room, but before she could do any of that, her mother spotted her.

And then she smiled.

And she did those eye movements which only a mom-daughter would get.

And then she said, "This is the youngest member of our family, well, of course, leaving Sulaiman, my daughter Anabya."

Anabya saw as a lady in her mid-forties, short and stout, wearing a 100-watt smile, glance at her. Beside her was a boy, his elbows resting on either of his knees as his head was hung low, his face covered by his hands, clearly indicating that he would rather attend a boring lecture than suffer the embarrassment.

Anabya couldn't really figure out the reason for the posture and before she could move her eyes, that guy looked up upon hearing her being introduced to his mum, and his frown soon turned into a teasing grin.

"Hello, Anabya, such a lovely name! I'm Tanzila, your new neighbor, and this is my son, Shamaaz."

"Assalamu alaikum, Aunty," Anabya smiled and accepted her outstretched hand.

"Wa alaikum as salaam. You've just returned from the office, it's all right, you freshen up and-"

"Oh no, not at all! She'll be fine spending time with us," her mother cut Tanzila off and Anabya internally groaned.

Well, of course.

"Yes, Aunty, not a problem," she said and sat a bit awkwardly beside her, not sure what to say.

"I was showing your mother this video. I was so glad to see this apartment has a swing in the play area that I used the opportunity. I absolutely love swings! When I was small, every day after school, I used to go to the playground and exhaust my free hours there. You have to see this video! Shamaaz, show her that."

"Mom," he said, clearly embarrassed by his mother's overly extrovert nature. "That was a child's swing!"

"So what's the harm? I'm still young at heart," Tanzila laughed while Anabya was slightly taken aback by her.

In all honesty, the lady made her feel old. She herself hadn't sat in those kid swings from years and over here was a woman who clearly showed age was but a number.

Upon her behavior, Shamaaz took to his old posture, face buried in his hands in embarrassment, while Anabya pretended to smile seeing the video.

This truly was a very different scenario.

"So you're coming next week, right?" Tanzila asked later, and Anabya's mom nodded.

Noticing her curious glance, Tanzila said, "We're having a house warming party! And you are invited."

"Ugh thanks," she replied, not sure what else to say.

"You're obviously coming since we're neighbors."

"I'll try," Anabya smiled but Tanzila reacted as if she was just told she lost a free shopping voucher.

"I'll try? What is this? My house is just a few steps away! Say you'll come for sure."

Anabya looked at her mother, her eyes slightly wide, and she quickly replied, "In sha Allah, I'll get her along. Anabya isn't much of a party person."

"Really, is it? Wish I could say the same for Shamaaz. My son can't go a week without partying."

Anabya's eyes flickered to the guy in question who still looked mortified by his mother's behavior. His desi mom really didn't suit the cool guy image he tried to pull off otherwise.

"Mom, I think Hussain is calling you. We must get going."

"Oh no, he's not, let me spend some time with these wonderful people. Stay here."

"Look at Anabya, she's so tired, let her rest. Aren't you tired, Anabya?" Shamaaz asked, conveying his desperation through his eyes and Anabya had to avert her gaze.

At being addressed directly, she was a little surprised. She wasn't used to this kind of interaction, especially not with the guy who emitted negative vibes.

Even before she could say anything, Tanzila gave in to her son's demand and finally got up to leave.

"They're friendly people, don't you think, Anabya?" Her mother asked once they had gone after ten minutes. It took them ten minutes because every time Tanzila said goodbye, she'd start another topic and just while standing by the door, she had said goodbye seven times before finally leaving.

Anabya nodded her head and changing the topic, asked, "Where's Aamina Bhabhi and Sulaiman?"

"They've gone out with Tammara, both wanted to have a haircut. Should I get you your lunch?"

"I'm not hungry, Ma."

"You're looking tired, go sleep for some time. Now don't say you're not sleepy too."

She laughed at that, "Don't worry, I'd never say that."

"And if you said that, I'd think you're in love."

Anabya's smile faltered at that and she asked, "Why would you think so?"

"When your teenage child says she's neither hungry nor sleepy, those are the classic symptoms of being in love."

"I'm not a teenager anymore, Mom. Besides, that's such typical mom logic. Where did you read it?"

"I came across a post on Facebook."

"I don't know how to feel that my mom uses Facebook more than me."

"Don't feel anything, go rest," her mother shrugged and Anabya walked to her room, shaking her head.

In the comfort of her room, Anabya changed into her PJs before drawing the curtains and going to bed. She turned around, hugging her pillow while lying in the fetal position when a single tear trailed down her cheek as her mind replayed the events of the day.

She wasn't sure how to feel anymore. There was so much happening that she almost found it unbelievable. As if she'd soon wake up from the nightmare and find everything normal.

Sometimes, she hated the fact that she clung on to every spark of hope. For some sparks didn't fly, they disappeared and put her heart on fire.

Her vision clouded at the thought and in desperate need of a break, she randomly logged into Facebook and no guesses to what she saw on her home page.

It was the picture of the bouquet posted by Hafsa with the caption,

let love blossom like these flowers. From A DIL to another.

Anabya stared at the picture and the text until it finally registered to her the capital letters in the caption formed his name.

How cheesy she thought and if she wasn't so busy feeling hurt, she would have remembered to make a face. She wasn't a huge fan of such things.

And Hafsa was the one who said she wanted to keep things under cover until the wedding dates were declared. So much for keeping this information a secret, she wondered.

She wasn't done staring at her screen when a notification popped up. This time while checking the notification, she really did roll her eyes seeing she had a friend request from Shamaaz Salman Abdulla.

Out of curiosity she clicked on his profile. And boy was she surprised.

His profile picture was of him with a girl in the classic little black dress, and he was holding her by the waist. Just when she thought she was his girlfriend, she scrolled down to find pictures with several girls at parties or otherwise.

So when his mother said he liked parties, this is what she meant.

Feeling sick with everything around her, Anabya logged off from Facebook, of course, without accepting the friend request. She didn't need guy friends, neither on Facebook nor in real life.

At an attempt to calm her mind, she decided to open her virtual diary, typing her thoughts,

I always thought heartbreak in poems was overrated. Only after I heard the silent breaking of my own heart did I realize, they were the most underrated descriptions.

How could words even attempt to explain the feeling of being broken while staying whole? How could they describe the silent sound of heartbreak while its echoes resonated in every living cell?

Quite truly, matters ofthe heart couldn't be described, they just had to be felt. Be it love or pain