Chapter Twenty Six

                                   “A Dead Man’s Wish”

                                   "ليسَ من حق أحدٍ أن يكسرَ باب صمتي ..

                                          الا انتِ ، الا انتِ ، الا انتِ.."

Mahra

Monday- 11:15 AM

A chilly wind blew and I huddled in my sweater, tightening my grip on my coffee cup, feeling its warmth. I stood under the clear sky, in the balcony, listening to the birds singing as the bright sunlight teased my eyes and the cold breeze played with my hair. Standing hundreds of feet above the ground, I felt as if I was as free as a bird.

“You’ll catch a cold.” said a voice that yanked me from my freedom and pushed me into the prison, I so wanted to flee from. I turned sideways, and saw him standing behind me, leaning on the balcony door, his hands folded across his chest. “It’s cold out here and you’re already too weak.” Zayed finished, now looking at me.

I wasn’t too surprised seeing him being nice now. Ever since our argument yesterday, he’s been trying to be polite, by accompanying me at dinner time and helping me with my bandage this morning.

If not answers, he planned to shut me up with his politeness and lucky for him, it was working. Not because his kindness affected me, but because I was sick and tired of crying and yelling and asking questions. I was simply exhausted.

“I am fine.” I muttered and turned back to support my coffee cup on the balcony railing. My hands weren’t strong enough to hold it.

“How’s your hand?” I heard him move, and he came to stand beside me.

“It’s fine.” I answered, without looking at him. Unlike past times, his presence now displeased me more than ever and to show him that, I heaved a sigh of fatigue. The negative energy that radiated from every fiber in my being, definitely reached him, and created a cloud of awkwardness around us. Not that I cared but it seemed to bother him.

I heard him clear his throat and then a while later he turned to leave but before doing so; “You better get inside.” He suggested, pointing to the door.

I could feel his eyes on me, so I lifted my head up to take a brief glance at him. “No, those walls suffocate me.” I denied, turning to gaze remotely at the view from here. This time he didn’t press much and went inside, quietly.

A brief while later; I heard some movement in the dining room, the sliding of the drawers and closing of cupboards, after which a man’s voice – with an Australian accent –rang in the suite. He’d turned on the TV.

How could he think of watching TV when we were in such a sensitive condition!? I exhaled, sharply and shook my head. Men really are incomprehensible.

I finished my coffee and went back inside to place the empty cup in the kitchen which had an open access to the dining room. Unlike my normal self, I washed my mug, and looked at him with the corner of my eyes, sitting cross-legged on the sofa opposite to the TV, completely engrossed with what he was watching.

Suddenly, a disturbing feeling started at the pits of my stomach, a small whisper at the back of my head saying; was this how I was going to live all my life? With this careless and heartless man!? I turned to give him my back and supported myself on the kitchen counter, tears threatening to surge in my eyes but I pushed them back.

Taking a deep breath, I left the kitchen and was headed to my room when I remembered something on my way. Stopping next to the sofa he sat on, at a distance from him, I waited for him to feel my presence. My senses told me, he’d seen me coming and was now ignoring me on purpose.

“Has my…” I began; my sullen voice grabbed his attention. He glanced at me and then leaned forward to grab the remote control which was placed on the table in front of him. I peered vacantly at him as he lowered the volume and turned to me with his full observance.

“Yes?” he asked, with a quizzical look. I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes.

I was hesitant. My eyes suddenly found the ground. I shouldn’t be asking him this! He’s no one to me! “Has my family called?” I spoke, forcefully averting my eyes to look back at him.

He pursed his lips and a slight frown appeared on his face. “No,” he announced, and whirled around to face the TV. “They don’t know we’re in the country.”

I gawked at him, wide eyed. “You didn’t tell them?” I questioned. “It’s been three days.”

“I haven’t been able to contact anyone.” He put forward, not liking the topic. He picked up the remote, as if he was waiting for me to leave.

“But…” I asserted and then realized there was no point in arguing with him. He wasn’t going to reply any way.

Right that instant, his phone that was placed next to him, buzzed and he picked it up to see he’d received a message. My hopeful eyes watched to see a familiar name and expectant ears yearned to hear a beloved’s name. I waited as he read the message and locked his phone after he did so. But he didn’t tell me what I wanted to know.

“Who was it?” I couldn’t help but ask; curiosity got the best of me. I wasn’t ready to believe that my family would give me away to a stranger and then not try to contact me for three long days. I knew my mother and I knew Hamad. Their patience wouldn’t last that long.

Or maybe it would!

“It’s a friend.” He informed and disappointment replaced the hope that shone in my eyes. “I saw him here after a long time. He’s invited us over for dinner tonight.”

Us? I narrowed my eyes.Is this why he was being so nice? So that I could accompany him in front of his friend and save his great reputation!

“I told him,” he carried on, putting an arm over the sofa’s headrest. “That you cannot make it but his wife insists upon seeing you.” He declared, staring at me, waiting for an answer.

“It’s not that I can’t come, but I won’t come.” I replied, smugly.

His dark eyes scrutinized me for a while. “Fine, I was expecting that.” He gave a short nod. “Suit yourself.” This time he didn’t wait for me to go and raised the TV’s volume.

It astonished me to see that he wasn’t forcing me to go with him. Mostly everything I have done from the last three days have been vigorously done, be it coming to this place or eating food. All of it was unwillingly done. But why wouldn’t he force me now?

I shook my head at that thought. Wasn’t it good for me that he wasn’t stressing on me now? This way both of us could avoid the crying and yelling. At least the nerves can remain calm for a while.

Leaving him there, I went back to my room until it was time for Dhuhr prayer. I performed my prayer and felt incredibly at ease now. The past three days were so hectic that I had forgotten my duty towards God, which was unusual for me.

Sitting in my room, I was looking for a glass or bottle of water but nothing was in there and my throat was awfully dry. I didn’t want to go and face him but then I was badly hungry too. Placing a stone on my heart, I left my room and stepped in the corridor to see the door of his room ajar.

I was stepping away from there when he suddenly appeared from thin air in his room. His eyes found me and I tightened the shailat assalah (Large prayer scarf) wrapped around my head, securely.

“Taqabbal Allah. (May Allah accept your good deeds)” He prayed, rolling his kandoorah’s sleeves down, after ablution, as he prepared for prayer. I wanted to turn away without replying, but it was merely a prayer, how could I not reply to his prayer; and that too was for me!

“Minna wa Minkum. (From us, and from you.)” I murmured, looking at anything but him.

“Lunch is served.” He informed, moving on to his other sleeve, his hair still slightly wet. “You go on ahead and I’ll join you soon.”

What? So we are eating together again? It was awkward enough this morning, I didn’t want to repeat that process! Eating with him distressed me.

Nonetheless, I brought myself a glass of water and sat down at the dining table, helping myself with some pasta. It was only when I was half way through finishing my plate, when he came. I put my spoon down, turning to look at another direction.

My hands were in my laps and eyes averted around the suite. I heard him pick up a plate and open a bowl of I didn’t know what, I wasn’t watching. All my insecurities turned out to be pointless, because he didn’t sit with me. When, at last, I turned to him, he was heading over to the sofa in front of the TV where he sat earlier.

Thanking God, I picked up my spoon and carried on eating. For a moment we were eating in silence, only the clattering of spoons and forks was heard, but then fortunately he turned on the TV again.

~*♥*

6:36 PM

Standing in the living room, he was fixing his ghatrah, using the balcony doors mirror to look at himself. I was wearing my Abaya and went to stand behind him at a good distance, and he looked at my reflection. I noticed his eyes looking me over; then he raised an eye brow.

“Where to Insha Allah?” He asked, without turning to me.

“I can’t stay alone in this suite anymore.” I uttered.

“Have you decided to accompany me?” He guessed, making me smirk.

“Not in this life time.” I mocked.

“Then what is it you want?” I saw him grab the end of his ghatrah and throw it back. There was a time I used to die for such acts of his.

“I want to go down for a walk.” I spoke, my voice hoarse.

Here he turned to face me. “Alone?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t run away.”

“That wasn’t what I was worried about.” He pressed his lips together into a thin line. “I can come with you. I will cancel everything and apologize to my friend.” He proposed.

“Don’t even bother to do me favors.” I snapped, and prepared myself for a cynical remark but he didn’t come up with one.

“As you wish.” was the only thing he said to me before we both came down.

Yet again, I was alone with him in the deafening silence of the elevator, a sickening moment which brought me the worst memories ever. Once the doors opened and we stepped out.

“I’ll look for you here at 8:30.” He informed and walked away. I stared at his back as he disappeared into the lobby. Unnecessarily, I grew anxious for a moment and my eyes darted to take a glimpse of his tall form but he was nowhere to be found.

It was then that it hit me how badly I was damaged. ‘What has happened to me? I was once a brave girl!’ I thought and gathered some courage, walking slowly in the opposite direction.

I wandered in the ground floor, spotting many cozy cafés and restaurants. On the far end of the hallway I was walking through, I saw a door that led me to the activities outdoors. I spotted the swimming pool which wasn’t crowded on such a cold night. Agitated by the serenity, I stepped out of there and headed to the main lounge again. On my way, I spotted the reception and inquired about the phones in our suite. The man asked me the room number and I had some difficulty remembering it.

“The room is reserved by Mr. Zayed Al Waleed.” I told him.

“I am sorry Ma’am but we cannot give away our guest’s information.”  The young man refused, making me angry.

“I am staying in that room too. He is my husband.” I retorted, hating myself for using the last word.

The receptionist looked from side to side, trying to make an excuse but I pressed on it. Finally he gave up and gave me the answer that I need not hear.

And as I received his reply, my face flushed and eyes widened in astonishment. I left soon, fury boiling within me like lava.

After all that he has done, how could he? How dare he?

~*♥*

9:10 PM

Trying hard not to cry out of rage, I sat there in a café like a recluse. I felt as weak as the smallest and hopeless creature in the world. Whichever way I turned to, I saw people stronger than me, people with mighty hearts and heads held high.  The power in their stride shook me to my core, made me want to shrink in my place to the point where I would disappear.

Last night I tried to convince myself that crying was not going to make things easier, but pretending that – everything is right when it wasn’t – didn’t feel so great either. It hurt, quietly.

As I drank my second coffee which helped sooth my nerves, rubbing my fingers on the cup, thinking, that was when I was interrupted by the waiter.

“Would you like something else Ma’am?” He asked, his hands tied behind him.

I looked at him, confused, still half lost in my thoughts. “Yes, the bill please.” I remembered.  

“It has been taken care of.” I heard him say. Narrowing my eyes I gave him a questioning look. “By your husband.” He completed.

I rolled my eyes at that considerate bastard. That pretending, deceitful of a husband!

I nodded and he realized that was the only reply he was going to get so he left, giving me another reason to be enraged.

It was long after that when I felt a set of eyes on me and my skin crawled.  I shifted my head up to see who it was, and shook my head upon encountering him once again.

Not him and not now!

“Are you following me? Afraid that I might run away?” I taunted, grimacing.

He supported his long arm on the chair next to me and tilted his head a little, to get a better look at me. “Yes, and No.” He answered both my questions.

I turned around, behind me, to see where he had come from, afraid he might be accompanied by someone but he wasn’t.

“What do you want?” I asked, a disgusted look displayed on my face.

He examined my sour expression and tone. “It’s late. I am here to escort you back to the room.” He said, tightly.

“I can come by myself. Leave me alone.” I snapped.

I saw him lift his hand from the chair nearby and plunged it in his pocket. “I am sure you can but the keycard is with me. So if you may...” he grabbed my cup and dragged it slightly away from me as a sign for me to get up. I looked at him, infuriated, as his eyes drifted to something else and suddenly he smiled.

“Zayed.” I heard a feminine voice call his name and turned to my left to look at a fine brunette walking towards him, her wavy hair bouncing with every step that she took. She was tall, may be as tall as him but then I noticed the six inch heels that she wore paired with a skinny jeans and a grey top. “You said you were getting late for your meeting.” She asserted, standing beside us, smiling at Zayed and then her eyes fell on me for the first time.

“This was the meeting I was talking about.” ‘The Man’ said, looking fixedly at me instead of her. He had plastered a smile on his face, and his eyes carried the message of going along with the act.

I looked away when the woman’s next sentence came. “Is she your wife?” She directed her question to him.

“Yes,” Zayed turned to her. “Mahra, meet Razan, my friend Sami’s wife.” He introduced.

I couldn’t care less!

But because of my self-respect, not his, I stood up and shook hands with her.

“Very nice to meet you.” She said, enthusiastically. “I so wanted you to come to the dinner and insisted Zayed brings you along with him but he said you weren’t feeling well.” She finished, in her thick Lebanese accent. 

“Yes, I haven’t been that well.” My words were brief.

“Salaamtek, (Get well soon)” She prayed.

“Allah yesalmich.” I replied, looking down.

A moments silence and then she broke it.

“So this is Zayed’s wife.” She rejoiced, throwing her palm in the air.

For some reason the last word hit me like a knife through my chest, like a rope tied around my neck, choking me. Strangely, an emotionless giggle escaped my lips at the irony of that last word.

Wife, yeah, this is her. With no make- up, puffy eyes and a simple ‘abaya; sadness and anger oozing from her energy, this was her.

 “She is very beautiful.” Razan complimented, facing Zayed who did not respond.

Silence lapsed around us again and before the awkwardness could grow further, Zayed skillfully excused us both and we made our way to the rooms.

 As I followed him from one place to another, without saying a word, as if I had given up, as if he had complete control over me, a sickening feeling increased inside of me. I felt awful for being with him, accompanying him everywhere, allowing the entire world to see that he owned me, inviting everyone to witness that he was more powerful and I was weak, he was above me and I beneath his feet.

Once we got in the elevator, I grew nauseous. As to why everyone looked at us as if we were a couple? Why were they addressing me as his wife? I am not his wife. I will never be!

“I want out of this.” I spoke, lost deep in my thoughts. All of my earlier insecurities had returned and now with proof. I had to end this. I couldn’t take this any longer. “As quickly as possible.” I gasped, sharply, suffering from suffocation.

He disregarded me on purpose, I was sure he had heard me in the vacant elevator.

“I cannot play this game any longer.” I informed, promising myself that if he didn’t reply this time, I will not wait for another answer any more. I won’t ask anything else either. I will leave, just leave.

He did as expected and didn’t reply.

Silence.

Silence.

I was sick of his murderous silence.

When the doors of the elevator unclosed, I got out quickly, with big, angry steps I preceded him to the suite and huffed loudly when I realized that the keycard was with him. Impatient, I waited for him to come and open the door. Once he caught up to me, I became aware of the fact that I can never lead or walk alongside this man. I will always have to follow him, through fire, through thrones; I had to be the unwilling follower.

That thought brought tears in my eyes.

As he opened the door and walked in, I strode towards my room to bring my bags and get going.

“Mahra.” I heard him call from behind me and I halted, not wanting to do so.

Turning immediately to face him; “Stop pretending.” I shrieked, and my voice echoed in the room. “We are not a happy couple. Stop persuading people to believe that, God damn it. Don’t you get tired of deceiving people?!” My voice trembled as I yelled and angry tears threatened to fill my eyes. “How dare you,” I began again, “How dare you call me your wife? You have no rights to call me that, after all that you have done to me.”

Infuriated, I was saying whatever that came to my mind as he stood right in the middle of the room, simply staring at my breakdown, having nothing to say.

“Stop it, please. You’re killing me. You’ve killed me more than once in a life time.” I cried, my body shaking in exasperation.

I wiped my tears away with the palm of my hand and sniffed, trying to get hold of my weak and shaking form. “Divorce me.” I ordered.

“Calm down.” His words came, as he lifted one hand out, palm forward. “I get that you are mad but we ca..”

“No, divorce me.” I cut him mid-sentenced. “I can’t take your despicable behavior anymore. You bringing me forcefully here, imprisoning me in this room and then go on breaking any possible ways of me contacting my family. Who the hell do you think you are?” I breathed.

“Listen,” he said, and I cut him again.

“Just let me go.” I blurted.

“I can’t do that.” he instantly fumed, his voice louder and disturbed.

“Why can’t you? When you could easily make this decision and ruin my life once and for all, why can’t you end it now?”

“Because unlike you I have a family to think about, a father, a status!” He barked, finally losing his composure and I shuddered. The words hit me like bullets and my lips quivered, hands shook.

“If you mean to say that I am family-less, then I am pleased to tell you that I choose the life of an orphan over this. It is a thousand times better than living with a selfish, self-centered person who uses people like toys and thinks he can get away with it.”

The winds of anger got wild around us!

He had been glaring at me but after my last sentence he turned away. I heard him scoff, as if the absurdity of my words was amusing to him.

“I didn’t want this either, God damn it.” His voice deepened, revealing how my words had affected him. He lifted his hand up to his head, taking off his ‘egal and ghatrah and tossed them on the nearby sofa, fiercely. “But we are in this together. I can’t let you go now. Think about what the people will say!”

“You shouldn’t worry about what the people will say. You’re not gonna have much of a status once I am out of here.” I put forward.

“Are you threatening me?” He raised an eyebrow with a grim look. “Don’t you know that it is your status you should worry about, ‘woman’!” He threatened back, pointing at me.

And with that sentence another reality hit me. It was really me who should worry about her name. Was he right?

The argument slumbered for a while, because I wasn’t able to say anything else. The words just died on my lips and replacing them were warm tears.

“Why did you do this to me?” I said. “What reason did you have to do this to me?” my exhausted voice spoke.

He took a while before replying; “Every story has a right time.” He announced, taking a few steps towards his room, as if retiring from this argument, but it wasn’t over for me.

“What right time is it that you are waiting for?” I yelled again, not able to endure it anymore. “Stop playing with me and tell me what I need to know.” I persisted.

He turned to gaze at me, without replying. His dark eyes, however, had a lot more to say.

I started shaking my head, giving up. “This is useless.” I mumbled, and stormed straight to the door behind which my freedom lay.

When I was halfway to the door, I felt his hand grab me by the arm and yank me backwards, throwing me at the sofa, brutally. Falling with a thud, I flinched.

“Sit down before I strangle you.” He bellowed at the top of his lungs, a vein in his neck throbbing, intensely.

My eyes widened in horror and heart raced against time as I encountered a total different side of this man in front of me. I thought he was heartless but now he seemed to be soulless.

“You want to know the truth,” he began, lifting his chin up, looking down on me with deadly eyes. “Then here’s the truth, but brace yourself because you may not be strong enough to handle it.”

I had frozen in my place, shrinking back from the power of his destructive glare.

“You come here and blame me for marrying you unwillingly; but you don’t know that I was obliged to marry you.” His jaw hardened and he rubbed his forehead, looking blackly at the ground. “If you knew the reality it would wipe the very ground beneath your feet, you wouldn’t be able to look me in the eye.” He roared, walking away and then came back to face me again.

“You wanna know why I married you?!!! I married you because I was chosen by your own father.” He disclosed, and my heart sank. I looked around not understanding what he said, what did my father have to do with all of this?

I saw him taking several breaths to calm himself, and I tried to do the same but that was impossible. At the mention of my father, new and warm tears gushed in my eyes.

Standing at a distance, and staring in my teary eyes, he spoke again in a lower tone, paired with a harsh edge. “Upon his dying bed, he thought me a suitable partner for you, and took my father’s word right there and then.”

As his words registered, I felt my head spin and my sight blackened.

“He meant to secure your future with me.” His lips twitched into a bitter smile. “And my father didn’t deny his best friend. He did what he thought was best for the both of us.”

I sat there with a hand on my heart, and the other wrapped around my middle, trying to stay conscious. Despite the effort I was putting to control my sobs, one of them betrayed me. And then I let them lose. Not being able to handle myself, I broke into sobs right in front of him.

He listened to me weeping as if he liked the sound of it, as if it put his heart at ease.

“This union was planned before we were even aware of each other’s existence.” He completed, ignoring me. Through the tears, I saw him clasp his wrist in his opposite hand behind his back.

“I had no idea about any of their intentions. After all these years when I come back, I see you stand right in front of me, my father asking me to marry you. How was I to not fulfill the only and perhaps the last wish of my sick father?” His eyes wouldn’t settle on one specific thing, they kept darting in the room.

“God knows I tried to avoid it as much as I could.” I heard him say. He sounded closer now. “I refused at first, because I didn’t want to ruin your life, I knew I couldn’t make you happy. I could see all of this coming and I rejected, retreated but you were everywhere, even with Hamad…” He silenced. I looked up at him and he turned away.

“And now that you ask me to let you go, I can’t because my hands are tied. After all that I have been through, letting you go now would destroy my sick father. For his sake I can’t.”

Here I cried harder. Hiding my face in my hands, I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

At long last, when the sobs transformed into light whimpers, and I was able to breathe again, I looked up with a blurry vision to gaze at him and saw him stand there.

“The way you are agonizing now, is what I have been suffering from, from the last couple of months.” He said wearied.

“I didn’t mean to cause you pain,” There was a slight glimpse of empathy and honesty in his eyes. “But you brought out the worst in me.” We both stared at each other for a while and then, ashamed I looked down, his eyes reminded me of his sacrifices because of me. 

Unable to look at him, I kept staring at the floor. My mind juggling with the unbelievable thoughts he had given me. “They ruined our lives.” My raspy voice stated, and I heard him exhale loudly, as if a huge load had been taken away from his shoulders.

“It isn’t our fault,” He replied, in a hushed tone and moved closer to sit down next to me. “Your only fault is that you are loved too much.” He asserted.

How unfortunate!

~*♥*

Zayed

Zayed and Mahra were surrounded by an air of melancholy. They had drowned in the sea of gloominess, encircled by their own strains. Sitting there right next to her, he heard her cry and mourn over both their conditions, and it both maddened and saddened him. He tried to kill her pain but clearly it killed her.

Words…what words could possibly be uttered in a situation like this. To tell her that things were going to be okay was a bigger mistake than the ones he has already committed. He knew nothing was fine and things wouldn’t be any different in the near future, so why lie to her again!

Silent, he watched her from the corner of his eye and saw her injured hand supporting her head as she leaned side-ways on the sofa, eyes closed. Before sympathy would take over his heart, he slowly made to stand up and headed to his room, completely unnoticed by Mahra.

Zayed carefully closed the room’s door behind him, and went to rest on his bed, exhausted. It was impossible for sleep to knock at the doors tonight so he lay on his back with both arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. A disturbingly loud noise inside his head told him that he shouldn’t have done what he just did. What he told Mahra was supposed to be a secret, which not even Hamad was aware of. He had been silent for such a long time, he had to prolong his patience and not be provoked by her actions.

But then again, he had no other choice; she left him no other choice!

Surely he didn’t enjoy breaking her heart thoroughly. He wouldn’t have done it, if not for her persistence. 

A few hours passed by agonizingly slow, and he failed to block the sight of her tears from his eyes. At last he gave up and sat up to check on her. Once he stepped out of the room into the living room again, he didn’t see her where he had left her last. Frowning, he opened the door opposite to his room and she wasn’t there either, her bathroom was empty as well. He checked the dining room and the kitchen but Mahra was nowhere to be found.

He called out her name, loudly but there was no answer, only his own voice echoed in the vacant suite. Here, he was panic-stricken, fearing the worst, too many terrible thoughts came to him, but he pushed them away.

Without wasting another minute, he left the room and took the elevator to the lobby. As the doors opened, he headed straight to the reception and inquired whether if they had seen his wife. Luckily the receptionist was the same who Mahra had spoken to earlier. He had seen her just now, walking passed the hallway that lead to the outdoor café near the swimming pool.

His quick and sharp eyes saw her as soon as he reached the middle of the hallway. She had her back to him, sitting on the stairs of the swimming pool on such a cold night, looking up at the sky. He shook his head disapprovingly. This girl was planning to kill herself!

As he stepped out of the doors, silently, and noticed that she had hugged her knees with both her hands, rocking slowly, back and forth. He guessed that she was crying, she must have been crying! Wasn’t she fed up of shedding tears!

 He decided to leave her alone; she needed some time alone, to think, to organize her thoughts. So he didn’t approach her, taking a seat at a great distance in the café behind her, watching her, when she was oblivious of his presence.

For hours and hours, they sat there till the beginning of the twilight, when the sun was still below the horizon. Zayed hadn’t moved from his place neither did he utter a word to anyone. His eyes watched her, fixedly, guarding her until the first raises of the sun poured down on them.

Some of the workers in the café started coming back to work and would get confused by seeing them both near the pool area at this time of the day. One of them approached Zayed and asked if he could get him something to drink and Zayed refused.

Before the place could get crowded, he stood up and went to stand right next to her. Spotting his shadow, Mahra looked up at him and their eyes met.

“Let’s get inside.” He suggested, and turned to look at the clouds that were about to cover the sky. “It might rain again.”

Trying to hide her surprise upon seeing him, Mahra turned away from him, and after a few seconds of thought, she stood up.

Together they walked back to the room, silently.

 ~*♥*~*♥*~*♥*~*♥*~*♥*~*♥*~*♥*~*♥*~*♥*

Hey guyz,

Not gonna say much this time, bcuz we recieved too many disappointing comments in the last chapter. I wish they were constructive criticsim but they weren't! Mostly everybody was abusing Zayed or warning that they'd take our story out of their Library becuz we post late. 

I hope ppl watch their words a little, and yeah hope all our lovely and patient fans liked this chapter. Vote and comment if you did:)

 ~*'♥ Lots of love from the writers

~Witty & Witch