1- The Belkos

The silence was comforting to Noorul-Huda as she sat atop the window bench, sketchbook on her lap and a pencil caught between her index and pointer finger, staring intently at the boy on the paper. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, wondering what to make of the sketch.

His grey eyes stared back at her with such intensity she wondered if he was real and could see through the protective layers she had enacted to hide away her scars.

Those grey eyes haunted what little dreams she got, recurring every single time she let her inhibitions down. She wondered if somewhere out there, the owner of said eyes also had dreams of her. It was a foolish thought but a thought nevertheless. Nothing of such could happen but still, a girl could hope. And hope, she did every day of her life.

The dreams had begun last month when she had taken a vacation together with Nadia and her brother. They were good dreams so she never made a fuss of them. Instead, she made a habit of documenting them down on her sketchbook every moment she woke up. The sketches and dreams were hers and the mystery behind them were hers to solve alone.

{••}

Snapping the small buttons of the abaya securely, Noor's mind wandered back to her mother.

She remembered the first time she had worn the abaya. Half Emirati half African, she had been fascinated with how her mother had always dressed in the same black garment with different intricate designs.

She had worn her mother's when she took it off and tripped on the long garment, ripping a part of it. Fearing what her mother would do to her when she found about the ripped garment, little Noor had hid behind the rack cowering, clutching it to her heart.

She had fallen asleep in there unbeknownst to her mother who had turned the whole mansion upside down looking for her. It was during the night her mother had found her curled up like a ball, patches of dried tears visible on the abaya.

Her mother had smiled in relief, woke her up then send her off to her bed after admonishing her for hiding in the closet. The next day, she had laid a dozen of the garment on Noor's bed and asked her to try them out.

"Shukran Dada," she had squealed and giggled, slipping on the garment. She twirled and danced in her new garment, excited that she had a dozen to call hers and since then, Noor had welcomed the abaya as her choice of garment to be worn anywhere and anytime.

Her lips curled up into a sad smile as she wrapped a sheila over her hair, slipping her feet into a pair of black sandals.

'Don't worry Dada, your daughter is a soldier.'

{••}

Juwairiya loved the picturesque landscape of her gated community. Like a pearl, Ivy Hills hid its ugliness behind the flawlessly manicured gardens and dancing fountains.

It guarded the secrets of its occupants within high walls, only to come forth in the darkest of nights when others were too busy to care or when they avert their gazes because they too shared the same level of ugliness.

She recalled the first time she had seen him, her husband Al-amir Belko at a family function. Fresh out of college, good looking and with a powerful African background, he had charmed the women around with his easy smile and fine manner, her included. Sadly, he only had eyes for one woman, a woman who even in death still held a part of him.

She had heard of others speak about a turning point in their lives, a moment when their world is shaken to its core, forever changed. She knew that was her moment when she had cornered him months after marriage and demanded for the truth. The knowledge that she still competed with a dead person left her paralyzed, unable to take in any breath.

That moment had changed her, driven her into becoming a woman she couldn't recognize. Taking care of a nine year old, a teenager and a husband who couldn't be bothered with her presence had been the reason why she had sought out other things to make her feel alive. So, she spent most of mornings indulging in social events and elite women gatherings, secretly trying to find ways to stay sane. But at night, at night she broke down and lamented over the kind of torture she put herself through. And so, she resolved to start up her own business and now, her boutique was one of the main reasons why she still held on to her marriage and put up with the degradation her husband and children had put to her sense of worth.

Sometimes, she wondered if she had made the right choice by staying but her flourishing business was able to take her mind off the ugly parts of her life. She was able to shove the bad memories into the back of her mind-a place where only she had access to-to be remembered when she was alone. Some days, she'd wake up in the middle of the night tormented and terrified, feeling as if she would go insane, knowing that she would never be able to win that battle even after what she had done.

Somewhere in her tormented psyche, she knew who she was, what she had turned a blind eye to in order to live the kind of life she lived, to bathe in the kind of luxury she did and to dine with a set of over-priviledged socialites. She was a spineless and feeble woman who had settled for less, suffering in silence.

Perhaps she had done that out of denial or fear but in the end, when all was said and done, the truth remained unchanged; she was utterly in love with her husband. And there was nothing she wouldn't do for him even if it meant loosing herself in the process. Call her a paranoid backstabbing homewrecker, in her eyes she was just a woman simply in love.

Love they say is blind, especially when it is unrequited. In his love, she was both blind, deaf and dumb, her heart and mind only sang to his tune, a lonely and painful tune she'd always have to live with.

Maybe it was her Karma, maybe it was the price she had to pay for her previous sins.

{••}

Nadia was going to kill Khaleed. Not literally per say but she was definitely going to kill him.

She imagined his head as she stabbed the pancake harshly with her fork, cutting its edge, visualising the syrup flowing down her plate as his blood.

"Blood." She heard the unmistakable timbre of his voice interrupt her thoughts. Funny he called her that, she was just imagining his blood flowing on the floor--pun intended.

"Come on," he almost whined, pushing a hand through his hair. Not that she could see him, she knew he was doing it. She knew everything about him and he did her, partially.

"Are you really ignoring me?" he questioned, placing his hand on hers which she deftly withdrew to her lap. "Blood, I truly am sor..." He was interrupted by the vibration of his phone and with his sharp intake of breath, Nadia knew who it was before he uttered the name but she still raised her head to look at him.

"Bena," he smiled through the phone, relaxing back into his seat.

Even the name was like a sharp prick of knife to her heart. She drowned out his voice, slowly cutting the pancake into tiny pieces which she wasn't going to eat. What little appetite she had left had flown out of the window the minute the call had come through.

Why she reacted strongly to his girlfriend still amazed her, it wasn't like the lady had done anything to her really, she just didn't like her. It was justified she thought, Benazir was like a leech who would sought out the most eligible bachelor with lots of zeros on his cheque, suck his money dry then move on to her next victim. She was just simply looking out for him, even Noorul-Huda didn't like her so it was not a cause for worry.

"You haven't eaten anything," Khaleed interrupted her line of thoughts, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

"I've lost my appetite," she shrugged, dropping the fork and knife on the table.

"Nadia," he reprimanded, his honey wheat eyes glaring at her.

Great I'm Nadia now, she rolled her eyes inwardly.

"When was the last time you ate?" His eyes softened as he placed his hand on hers which she didn't bother to withdraw anymore. It was futile, he would still try to do so until she relented; it was their game, the other pushed while the other pulled until they both relented and take a stand together.

"The day before?" she shrugged, avoiding his gaze.

"You promised," he shook his head in disappointment.

"I forgot okay?" she sighed in frustration. And it was true, she had forgotten to eat. Since the incident, she had lost her appetite for food or simply forgot to eat unless if he was around. It was as if her appetite was somehow interwoven with him, she always turned into a glutton in his presence; it was an effect he had on her.

"Alright," he nodded, picking up her discarded fork. "Open up, I'll feed you myself. Maybe I'll have to ask your PA to set up lunch appointments for us. That way you won't forget to eat."

"I thought you had lunch together with her," she frowned, munching on the slice he had forked into her mouth.

He rolled his eyes, pushing another slice into her mouth which she had unexpectedly parted open. He didn't understand why the girls hated Bena. Sure he knew her reputation but he couldn't see any fault in that, he had a lot of money and he had no reservations about spending it on her. Was he in love with her? No, they hadn’t reached that stage in their relationship but he liked her so with time, he was sure he was going to fall in love with her.

"Khaleed," she snapped a finger across his face. "You still here?"

"Yeah," he shook his head, dropping the fork on the plate. "Sorry. I'm sure Bena would understand, she'll have to compromise."

No, Bena wouldn't understand and he knew that too but he didn't care, Nadia was equally as important as she was in his life, if not more.

"You ready?" he questioned after signing the cheque.

"Yeah," she nodded, slipping her arm with his as they strolled out of the restaurant.

To anyone watching, they were two people in love, enjoying a meal and a warm evening together. Maybe they were right about the love part, they both loved each other but the 'in love' part, maybe partially. One did love the other more than the sibling love existing between them but the unrequited part was fine, maybe a little; they still had each others back and it was all that mattered.

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Glossary: Emirati- of the United Arab Emirates descent

Abaya: a long modest garment women use to cover their body.

Sheila: a form of a head covering, a veil women use to cover their hair