part 320:

“Bismillahir rahmaanir raheem”
-in the name of Allah, The Most Gracious, The Most Merciful-

altafs point of view

I was a mess.. A man cannot accept rejection… It doesn’t do well for his ego and that didn’t help the situation at home either..

I was moody and annoyed and dreaded going home.. I couldve killed rukaya today.. She was even more annoying than she usually is.. I tried to find solace in the kids and kept myself away from her nagging lest I lift my hands up on her.. I never did.. And hopefully never will… But today was such a bad day, I wouldn’t be surprised if I did just that..

Was I wrong? Did I do the wrong thing by proposing? Maybe it was abit forward of me… What was I thinking? Which woman in their right mind was going to marry a married man?

Well definitely not the right woman… Only a woman who was after my money would, ofcourse.. And sajida didn’t seem like the type..

When she didn’t come to work the next day, I was worried.. I hope she was okay.. And didn’t cause any unnecessary stress for her and her mother..

I browsed through my employees details, found her details and decided to do something.. To fix things.. I needed to apologise

I stopped over at the florist on my way to her flat… And when I stopped at the address that my gps brought me to, I wondered how they managed to live here..

It was a large block of flats in a dilapidated building in a very crowded and poor area of town..

I walked up 3 flights of stairs and then held onto the railings to catch my breath before I forced myself up the final lot of stairs..

Finally I stood infront of number 636 and hesitated before knocking on the door..

What if her mother comes after me with her velan? Or better yet, her pots and pans..?

If this woman was anything like rukayas mother, I feel terribly sorry for myself..

I actually didn’t think of that.. I chose to marry her and look after her and her mother, but didn’t realise what type of a woman her mother was… What if she was crazy?

But ofcourse she has to be a good woman to have a daughter like sajida…

“Yes?can I help you?” An elderly lady was looking at me from behind the burglar gates..

“Assalaamu alaykum..uhm..I’m Sajidas boss.. Maaf I’m here to see sajida…?”

She smiled warmly before opening the gate and allowing me in, all the while staring at the bunch of red roses I’d forgotten that I held in my hand..

I took in my surroundings whilst waiting for sajida.. It was a relatively small flat.. Maybe a 1 bedroom and 1 bathroom flat.. an open planned kitchen and lounge area… And that was it basically!

I could actually count the amount of items in this house..

Old, but neat floral curtains… Wooden lounge suit.. A matching wooden coffee table in the centre..

In the kitchen was a tiny nook with 2 wooden stools where I’m sure she and her mother sit together and have their meals which they probably prepare themselves..

I immediately felt a pain in my heart.. I live in such luxury that gets updated on a monthly basis to fit in with the fast pace of fashion, while people are suffering and barely making ends meet everyday…

I have a chef that cooks my every meal and even has my toast buttered every morning, while my own employee has to work hard and then come home to prepare dinner for herself and her elderly mother

I live in the elite area of my town with a security guard infront of my home, electric fencing and a garage big enough to fit 4 cars… While they live in this dump, in the poor area of town that most of our people wouldn’t dare to drive through because of it being so dangerous.

Every room in my mansion was an en-suite, whilst here, both mother and daughter had to share the same tiny bathroom and bedroom…

If only I could help them in some way…

I think I’m going to offer her a better salary..

If she didn’t want to accept my proposal, the least I could do was help them out financially…

Sajida rushed out of the room and into the lounge, tying her scarf neatly in the process.. I marvelled at how not a strand of hair was visible..

There was an awkward silence in the room.. Both of us didn’t know what to say… Or who was going to say anything first..

I decided that I would have to make the first move..”Salaam… Err..I came to ask for maaf…here.” I presented the roses before her but she didn’t take them…

Instead she sat down on the old wooden sofa opposite me: “I have just one question altaf!?” She stated boldly



5 thoughts on “part 320:

  1. rediscovery57 says:

    I was just going to comment and trying to follow the link from WordPress reader when I accidentally clicked the unfollow button and my thoughts were momentarily distracted! Anyway, now that I’ve finally made it to comment after all these posts that I haven’t commented on, I must say that I’m pleasantly surprised at the turn of events πŸ˜‰ also sad that forever a mess up is ending soon! But all good things must come to an end, as they say, so I’ll just anticipate the continuation of missing pieces joined! Keep up the great work πŸ™‚

  2. zana says:

    Lovely post😊
    we don’t realise how much we have in our homes. But having all that doesn’t bring us happiness

    Please add 1000 durood
    1000 kalima tayyib (not sure if u started a new kataam)

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