Chapter 10
I woke up at eleven in the morning, feeling full of energy and vitality, as if colorful birds were fluttering around me, urging me to join them in flight. To express my desire to move and soar, I started cleaning my room and adding a few new touches. I removed the old bedspread and replaced it with a fresh one, polished the furniture, and tidied up the space. My room is simple—a bed with shelves, a small bedside table, and a reading table with two chairs in one corner.
I showered and changed into a simple house dress because my mother insists that pajamas should not be worn in the living room when my brothers are around, a viewpoint I completely understand and respect.
When I went downstairs, I found my mother preparing my favorite dish—chicken biryani. I decided to skip breakfast and just had a glass of orange juice to curb my hunger, saving room to fully enjoy my favorite meal at lunch.
But then my mother surprised me by saying that Faisal would be joining us for lunch, so I needed to prepare for his arrival. After getting ready, I had to make a salad and a dessert to show Faisal that I’m capable in the kitchen.
My mother requested that I wear something simple so Faisal would get used to seeing me naturally, leaving the more elaborate outfits for the party, where I would impress him with a more glamorous look. Honestly, my mother is a very wise woman, and you’ll see later just how wise she is.
I put on a simple, light green blouse the color of pistachio, paired with a black skirt that had a classic cut, ending just below my knees when I sat down. I added a delicate gold necklace with a pendant that said “Mashallah” and applied light, rosy morning makeup with a touch of kohl.
I then headed to the kitchen to help my mother, who was there with the girl who helps us clean the house when needed. I began preparing a healthy salad with a high vegetable content. Hossam always jokes that my salads are more like medical prescriptions, but that doesn’t matter—what matters is that the salad bowl is always empty before we finish lunch, sometimes even before we start if lunch is delayed.
Afterward, I made a dessert of layered biscuits and melted chocolate mixed with nuts. When I was done, my mother went to shower after finishing her work.
About an hour later, Hossam and Omar arrived. They greeted me, and I returned the greeting. When I saw Hossam, I lowered my head in embarrassment, remembering what he had said earlier that morning. He smiled at my reaction but didn’t comment. Didn’t I tell you how much I adore this caring brother? As for Omar, his tongue has long been out of control. The moment he saw the dessert, he quipped, “I should thank Faisal—if it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t be having this dessert except during Eid.”
I didn’t respond because engaging would only encourage him to keep talking.
Then Hossam said, “Faisal is in the guest room. Omar and I will join him. Let us know when the food is ready.”
I thanked God he didn’t ask me to greet Faisal.
I went to help my mother set the table in our relatively large kitchen. Since Faisal is not a stranger, there was no need for formalities.
My mother asked me to tell them that lunch was ready. I went, hesitating with every step, eager yet nervous to move forward.
I entered the guest room and said, “Peace be upon you.” They replied, “And peace be upon you, too.” I didn’t look at Faisal but said, “Lunch is ready; please join us.”
Everyone got up, and I stood by the door, unsure why I was rooted there—I didn’t even know the reason myself. They passed by one after another, with Faisal being the last. As he walked by, he took my hand, kissed it, and said, “No special greeting for me?”
I replied with my eyes cast down, “Faisal, please don’t embarrass me in front of my family.”
He responded, “I won’t embarrass you, but promise me that the next time you see me, you’ll ask how I’m doing. Is that too difficult, or am I not worth asking about?”
I apologized, “I’m sorry, I was just nervous and didn’t mean to ignore you.”
He gently placed his forehead against mine and said, “I hope this nervousness goes away soon so I can enjoy your company without it. I want to see your true self, free of tension.”
I smiled and told him that lunch was waiting and that my family and my anxiety were now like twins.
He joked, “Got it, Doctor. I hope you’re a good enough doctor to separate them since they seem to be conjoined twins.”
Then he added, “Ladies first.”
I walked ahead of him, feeling both embarrassed and happy, not knowing how I had ended up in such a state.
We went to the kitchen, where Faisal greeted my mother and kissed her on the forehead. I secretly laughed when I saw my mother’s cheeks blush—this was the second time Faisal had done this.
It was one of the most enjoyable meals I’d ever had, flavored with the friendship between Hossam and Faisal, their laughter, and the stories they shared. I was filled with joy witnessing the bond between my husband and my brother, and the family atmosphere was wonderful with Faisal’s presence.
I also felt immense gratitude to Hossam for standing by me and making the right decision when my thoughts were scattered.
After lunch, we moved to the living room, where we had tea and ended the meal with dessert. Omar and Faisal joked back and forth, stealing glances at me to see my reaction, which was obvious from my flushed face. Faisal never stopped smiling.
We bid farewell to Faisal, who was leaving the country to return home. He would return in nine days with his family and any relatives who wished to come.
My family respected the privacy of our relationship and allowed me to say goodbye to Faisal. We stood facing each other, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I hate goodbyes with a passion, even though I’ve grown accustomed to them every time I leave home for my studies. Each time, I struggle not to cry.
But with Faisal, the tears fell, and he was the one who wiped them away, saying, “Why the tears?”
I answered honestly, “I hate these moments, so please try to spare me from them.”
He replied, “But I can’t spare myself the need to be with you until the very last moment.”
I told him, “Then prepare yourself for this flood every time.”
He said, “I’ll be the one to control it and stop it.”
I replied, “Try, and I hope you succeed.”
He kissed my forehead and said, “I leave you in God’s care.” Then he left, while I, silent, tried to appear composed in front of my family.
I returned to the living room, where my mother was watching a family-oriented program on one of her favorite channels. I sat beside her, pretending to watch, but she was so engrossed in the show that she gave me the space to retreat into my thoughts.
Leaving her to her program, I headed to my sanctuary—my room. I took out my phone and called Wafaa, who greeted me with a loud ululation that nearly deafened me.
After the usual greetings, I shared my feelings with Wafaa, the changes I was going through, and the tension I was experiencing. I asked her frankly if my attachment to Faisal was normal.
Wafaa replied, “You’re perfectly normal—100% healthy, with all the essential nutrients present.”
I sighed in exasperation, “Wafaa, this isn’t the time for jokes.”
She responded, “What’s wrong with you? You’ve become too serious. Don’t be so serious and stiff with Faisal. He might tolerate it at first, but eventually, he’ll get bored.”
I confessed, “I’m afraid of getting too attached and then something happening to tear us apart.”
Wafaa objected, “Mona, stop letting Satan whisper doubts into your mind. Seek refuge in God from him. He’s trying to come between you and your husband by filling your head with false ideas. Have faith in Faisal and stay close to God, and you’ll feel the happiness you have now and the joy that’s yet to come.”
“Your feelings for Faisal are completely natural. You’ve only known your brothers and male relatives, and you were always focused on your studies, not caring much about other things. You were convinced that your husband would become your love.”
Then she asked, “Isn’t that what you told Ashwaq when she was talking about her relationship with her mother’s cousin, or did you forget?”
I told her I remembered but felt off balance.
Wafaa reassured me, “Your feelings are normal. Don’t overthink it. What’s happening is that your dreams are finally becoming a reality, and now that you can touch them, your emotions are in turmoil. You’ll get used to it over time.”
Then she playfully added, “But don’t let me bore you with my philosophy—tell me how the meeting went!”
I told her what I wanted to share and kept the more private details about my relationship with Faisal to myself. Even with the limited information I shared, Wafaa sighed dramatically. I laughed inwardly, knowing I hadn’t even told her the full truth—what would she do if she knew all the details? I firmly believe that what happens between a husband and wife should remain private. It’s okay to talk about certain things, but some experiences are best kept to oneself.
I thanked God for having a friend like Wafaa in my life.
After our call, I felt completely calm and at peace.
Before Faisal left, he saved his phone number in my contacts. After he left, I set a heart as the image that would light up my screen whenever he called.