Rabiya

When Miraj and Adar showed up on their estate's steps that night, Rabiya was not too surprised. Though the fear that consumed her like the shadows and the tendrils of heat that infiltrated her body past the glacial defenses, she knew that the worst was yet to come.

Her older cousin, Shakeel, and Tahmid blocked both their paths, shoulders straightened and posture straight regardless of the harsh slashes that bled through their skin. 

Their injuries marred their bodies like the scars left to a warrior, the flame ignited in their eyes, carrying the same flare, the same fierce determination to protect all that they loved even if it meant losing their lives. 

Outside her grandfather's estate, a real war plagued their country, a fight between two polar opposites, and no one regarded peace as an option. In their hearts was a curse, a cruelty, that human beings by nature were destructive and survival of the fittest would be the reigning factor on who lived to rewrite history.

Of the person who would change the course of events with his written praise or condemnation.

Deep in her heart, she knew Adar had that power, that he could change the tides with his talents, but that alone would not stop the war. He could only provide a different perspective. 

Her eyes trailed to the shattered glass that still littered different places around the house, the broken ceramics, and the torn apart furniture. Her grandfather's legacy was tattered by the greed of the villagers, and it seemed that no one could save them.

Except Allah. Though the circumstances were dire, she knew that Allah had a bigger plan in stored, that the crippling estate served a larger purpose in her story. The situation was gruesome, dark, foreboding with thunder clapping at every step, every mistake, yet the end was near and in its wake would be the light, the blessings, and the tears of pure happiness. 

"Why are you here?" asked Tahmid, voice dangerously low as shadows hid his eyes and his messy strands of black hair hung with his head. His tone hinted towards a threat. "Speak."

Miraj stepped forward, but Adar held his arm out, stopping his friend. "I came to ask your father something," he said, keeping his tone even. 

"Say it in front of me."

Adar held his head up, dark eyes masked with determination. "Out of respect, I humbly request to speak to your father. This is not a matter to speak freely of."

Tahmid lifted his eyes, lips pulled back in a sneer as hatred spread through his pulsing veins, anger coursing through his body. "Your family has taken everything from us. They have destroyed my grandfather's legacy to the point where his home looks abandoned, and that still is not enough, now is it?" he harshly remarked. "What more do they want? How much of this are we supposed to endure?"

"Bhaiyah (brother)," whispered Rabiya as she stepped forward, touching Tahmid's shoulder gently. "Don't start this again."

He turned his cheek away from Adar, body tensing as hurt crossed his expression. "Why do you defend him?" he asked. "Does he deserve it?"

"Adar cannot be held responsible for what his family does. He helped us, remember?" she probed the memory. 

"So what?"

"Let him go," she requested. "Let his guilt go. We deserve to hear what he has to say."

She could sense the ambivalence that swirled through his eyes, could sense the hesitation. Her brother may have been hot-headed and stubborn, but at the end of the day he valued his family and heeded their words, careful of the boundaries that Muslims should never cross even in fits of anger. Although Tahmid harbored ill sentiments towards the Lohani family, he would not let it dictate how he treated his own family. 

Sighing, his fists relaxed at his sides. "Shakeel, call my father," he commanded quietly. "Tell him Adar is here."

Shakeel obediently followed. 

As they waited, Rabiya stole a glance at Adar, wondering if he truly was brave enough to chart his own territory, if he really was a prince sent from above, if his heart was as pure as she had seen. His eyes met hers, strength resonating through her as his gentle gaze held her still, comforting her with the slight twitch of his lips. 

She averted her gaze, heart drumming against her chest. How can he still make me feel this way? Why does my heart keep responding to his gestures?

Time ticked on, the seconds passing by like a fleeting memory whisking around her, embracing her frame in comforting arms, in his soothing voice, and kind-hearted aura. Although a war infected their homes, in his presence, she felt safe. In his eyes, she saw a future, a life where he'd cherish and love her for all eternity, their union bounded by the will of Allah.

Their paths destined to cross again. 

When Rabiya dared to meet the intensity of his gaze again, his grin only widened. 

"Why are you here, Adar?" asked the low voice of her father from behind. 

Like cold water washing over her flushed cheeks, she stepped aside, turning away from Adar. His smile still took her breath away, still caused a palpitation, blood racing against her veins, and heat spreading all across her frame. She exhaled a slow breath. 

Not now, she told herself. There are more important things to put my mind into.

Adar stepped forward, expression serious and eyes hard. "I came to ask for Rabiya's hand in marriage."

What did he say? Marriage?

Tahmid aggressively jerked forward, spluttering over his words. "You want to marry her?" he asked, hazel eyes wide from shock. He turned to his father, desperately. "No-"

"Tahmid," warned their father. 

Her brother's jaw clicked at being silenced, but he made no effort to push their father forward. He knew there was a boundary there that he could not cross even as her older brother. 

Since their childhood, their parents taught them the value of their decision, how their opinions mattered, how life was a personal journey. Parents could only hold their child's hand for a short period of time. Eventually, the child would grow its own wings and fly away from the nest and chart a course to a new destination, a new pathway. 

The children became independent, and that child was now in the real world, now in a place where fighting for happiness required more work than finding misery, a home where struggling to believe in what was right often clashed with what everyone else did. They were against the odds and could only rely on Allah to save them. 

Likewise, the decision of marriage rested primarily on Rabiya, however as she glanced between her father's stoic visage and Adar's steadfast eyes, she was unsure of how things would play out, if her father might abandon all that he taught her to keep her safe. 

Her mother stepped out of one of the rooms with her hijab, cousins behind her, and her frail grandmother holding onto her mother's arm, the same shock and fear written across all of them. No one could predict the outcome of the night. 

"Sir?" questioned Adar when the silence stretched on.

Her father released a tense breath. "You came here to ask for her hand," he said. "Tell me why I should give my approval?"

Adar opened his mouth to speak, but Miraj grabbed his shoulder, pushing him behind him. "How could you ask such a question?" hissed Miraj angrily. "You know very well that Adar has given this village a name worth remembering. He found a light among the filth that touches this very land, and he chased after that light until he could bring back honor for all his hard work, and you dare to ask why?"

Tahmid laughed humorlessly to himself. "We may have not been in the village for long, but we have witnessed enough. Did you forget about how your esteemed friend is a man on the run from the army? Or that there is a price over his head and anyone associated with him?" he fired harshly. 

"And everything his family has done to ours," added her mother, tears brimming her eyes. "That is hard to forgive, nor can we ever forget the pain that still lingers."

Miraj gritted his teeth, fists clenched at his side as a protective aura rose through the anger he felt. When Miraj spoke again, his voice was sharp enough to cut through the tension, dangerously low, and his tone carried its weight with the wind.

He was emotionally wounded at the disregard for all that Adar accomplished, hurt by his lack of recognition because in Miraj's eyes, his best friend was a gem that had not been uncovered yet, a man whose future dusted with the sins of his blood. 

"What did Adar do wrong?" asked Miraj, fierce eyes meeting her father's, who only hardened his stone-faced glare. "His family humiliated, tortured, and disowned him. How much more does Adar have to suffer before he can be at peace? How many years will it take for him to apologize for people who have never loved him?"

Rabiya's family faltered in their terrifying stances, their walls crashing down as soft-spoken words resonated deep within like the vibrations of an instrument. Their hearts shuddered at the thought of all Adar endured, of all he sacrificed to salvage the little good deeds he could, to rewrite the wrongs of a village who did everything in their power to tear through purity. They did not rest until the white veils were drenched in red.

"I do apologize for everything my family has done," said Adar sincerely, facing Rabiya's mother and grandmother. "I know they have stripped you of your family's legacy, and I pray everyday for Allah to give me the ability to ease your worries even at the cost of my life."

Rabiya inhaled a sharp breath, hating how serious he sounded. He was willing to die if it meant her family would be safeguarded against the horrors of the war and the village. He sought to rewrite misery in the glowing pennship of love. 

"However," he continued, eyes meeting her father's once more, the coldness of their gazes simmering. "If I could marry your daughter, I swear by Allah that I will protect this estate, this home, this family with every fiber in my being. Once we are married, not even my parents or the other villagers could fight against our union. When they attack you, it would be an insult to me as well."

Rabiya's father brought a hand to stroke his beard, contemplating Adar's reasons, yet his eyes held a judgement that she could not read. Dark, weary eyes held a deep sadness in them, sorrow etching a path of no return. When she glanced at her mother, she noticed a similar expression as if her parents anticipated Adar's arrival before. 

A silence stretched between them, her brother and her holding their breaths, and the tension grew thicker. A small bead of sweat ran down Adar's jaw, his firm stance faltering as he struggled to hold onto his hope, Rabiya silently praying for her father's approval. After everything they had seen together and endured, she knew no other man could complete her like him. 

From his love letters to his gentle personality, she was addicted to him. 

Her father cleared his throat. "I will allow the marriage on one condition," he announced, surprising the other members of her family, except his wife. He exchanged a glance with her mother, who nodded in his direction. "We anticipated this, and my wife and I have already discussed the circumstances, so I offer you one condition."

Adar's eyes brightened. "Of course. What is it?"

"Once you marry Rabiya, you must promise to take her away from here."

"What?" asked Rabiya, Adar, Miraj, and Tahmid simultaneously.

Her father walked towards Adar as Miraj stepped aside. Slowly, he embraced him, holding Adar tight as his eyes squeezed shut, tears beginning to form. A gentle wind brushed around them, blowing leaves and dust, sanguine sorrow whispering between the embrace. Adar's arms rested limply at his sides, visage masking his inner turmoil at the desperate request, at her father's shaking voice.

"Please," her father begged. "This estate will be reduced to nothing. No matter how hard we fight against it, it will inevitably be taken from us, so I beg you. Please, take my daughter away from this life."

Adar choked. "I-"

"Abbu (father), what are you saying?" asked Rabiya, voice shaking. She shook her head furiously. "We can protect the estate. Everything will be fine In Shaa Allah (if Allah wills it)."

Her father released Adar, sighing. "Rabiya, we cannot," he whispered. "If we continue to protect it, we might die along with the estate, and I will not jeopardize my family for that. I'm sorry, Rabiya, but we have to do this."

"But-" she tried to argue.

Her grandmother held her arm. "Listen to him, sweetheart," she smiled sadly. "It's okay. Your safety must be ensured."

"What about you?" she croaked, wiping harshly at her tears. "What about everyone else? I have to sit in the background while everyone suffers, and I won't."

"We will all evacuate, but we need to take you out of the village. Go escape with Adar," her grandmother insisted, glancing at her future grandson-in-law. Her voice was stern. "I know you are not responsible for your family's sins, and I will not hold it against you. Once the military hears of Rabiya's relation to you, they will target her along with the villagers."

Adar averted his gaze, his fists clenched at his sides. "I... understand," he strained. 

Though her eyes watered with every word, Rabiya's mother spoke in a calm tone. "Once the villagers find out about this, they will kill you both. Our daughter means the world to us, and they know that. If she does not escape soon... it will be too late."

Rabiya embraced her mother as tears spilled from her eyes and onto her mother's hijab. "N-No," she struggled to say through her breaths. "How can I leave?"

Her mother's warm, comforting arms wrapped around her daughter, holding her tight like she might disappear. "Because we will be okay In Shaa Allah (if Allah wills it)," she whispered lovingly. "You are so strong-willed, and that is why we need you to stay alive. Through the high and the lows, we know you will be okay, so please, Rabiya. Go with him."

Her heart shattered into a million pieces, fragile glass trembling into shards of misfortune and disbelief. She could spend the rest of her life with the man that she loved, but she would be separated from her family for an unknown amount of time. After all that she lost, it was almost unbearable to go through it again, to weep till her eyes stung and to sob till her chest gave out. 

It hurt.

She opened her eyes to see her brother's light-colored ones, the despair evident in the horrified amber in them. Her lips trembled at the sight, at the fear of being separated from the man that always protected her, that always took the blame on her behalf when they were younger. Rabiya remembered how sweet those times were when she had her grandfather and uncle doting on her, and when her brother's heart was as gentle as a dove soaring through the gardens of lush, emerald green, vibrant with life.

How the times had changed. 

Within a blink of an eye, the memories faded, and her hope simmered like a flickering candle, the flame struggling to stay alive through the storm. She clutched her mother tighter, unwilling to let go. 

She heard her brother's footsteps, felt his shadow over her mother's embrace. "I know this is hard," he said, barely above a whisper. "I wish things were different, but they are right. Keeping you here would only hurt more." 

He shifted his attention to Adar, who was observing the scene with a heartbroken visage. Sighing, Tahmid gave him a tight smile. No words were needed to explain the gratitude he felt towards Adar, and the silent resolution to put the past behind them. There were two wars that inflicted them, the political one and the internal one. 

Rabiya's father grasped Adar's attention once more. "Do you agree to this condition?" 

"I do."

"Very well, we will hold a private Nikkah (marriage contract) tonight," he said, leaving no room for arguments. 

Neither Adar nor Rabiya could refuse. They knew what had to be done, and even when it crushed their souls, they knew the world they grew up in was no more what they knew. The weight of what it used to be, what their country used to represent vanished like the salt in the air. There was no changing it, no matter how much they wished they could.

----

Oof, that was definitely heart-wrenching. Bruh, that hurt me to write XD AND I'M THE AUTHOR. 

How do you think Adar must be feeling? He got the girl he loves, but at a painful cost.

The book is almost over, I know. I'm shocked too. I believe there are only nine more chapters left, so spread the word to get people reading!

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