*
Afrah almost moved into the new painting room.
Almost.
If it weren't for the fact that it was too far away from Adnan's room, she would have done so. But for now, her choice of where to sleep remained unchanged.
Most days however, she would sit in the room, occasionally staring at the backyard for hours on end. It soon became her dining room/study/sanctuary. She had brought a few books into the room, and she read them usually with a cup of coffee beside her and a bowl of noodles. The view was great, and Adnan had started a small garden beside the wall, where he kept several potted plants whose names Afrah didn't know. He watered them everyday before leaving for work, and he instructed Aliyu - the new security guard they'd hired - to water them in the afternoons.
Mostly though, Afrah stared at the blank canvases and the paint brushes. The first day after Adnan showed her the room, she had spent hours running her fingers over the brushes and smiling like a little girl. She picked them up and twirled them in her hands, remembering the feeling of holding one. It had been years since she painted anything. Her hobby had died a slow and painful death, but with Adnan's helping, it was beginning the agonizingly slow process of resurrection.
She had thought it would be easy. When Adnan left for work, she had slipped into the room immediately. After touching every single brush in the room, she stood before the canvas, eyes glinting with a long-forgotten passion, and reached out to touch it as well. It was rough to the touch, just as she remembered.
It wouldn't hurt to try something new. After all, she had this wonderful view beside her, and everything was right at her disposal. Her art teacher used to tell her that the mind of an artist is infinitely full of inspiration. The only thing which matters is how to tap into that inspiration and create something beautiful.
She thought about painting the tree outside for a start, or the sky in all its vast beauty; something to get her back into the rhythm of it all.
She squirted some blue paint onto the palette, dipped the brush and swirled it slowly before bringing it to the canvas.
Nothing.
Her mind went completely blank.
Afrah took a step back, staring at the canvas with her lips pursed. She tried again, but the moment the brush came up, something inside her died.
A hundred times she tried, and yet a hundred times she failed to come up with anything.
It used to be so easy. All she had to do was lift the brush, and her mind would instantly begin to conjure up an idea; an image which would guide her hands as they glided across the plain canvas. The best artists were those who put a brush in their hands and allowed their minds to run freely, giving their imagination the reins and watching as something beautiful came to life. They dwelled within that grey area between trying and not trying. The best works always came from there.
But when Afrah handed the reins over to her imagination, nothing but an empty image appeared in her mind's eye.
She spent hours there, trying to spark her imagination to create something. Anything. But it eluded her, like wisps of smoke vanishing with the wind.
And so it became a ritual. Everyday, after Adnan left for work and she was done with the chores around the house, she would return to the room with a burning desire in her heart to finally do something. Five days later however, the only thing she had managed to paint was a tiny blue dot in the middle of the canvas.
"Such exquisite detail," Adnan muttered the day he returned to find her glaring at the canvas. "I must say, this dot is the best I've seen in a long time. You seem to have captured the intense simplicity so effortlessly. This masterpiece belongs in a museum; the Louvre perhaps. or maybe even Prado."
"Very funny," Afrah said as she glared at the back of his head. "You should have considered a career in standup comedy."
"Maybe," he laughed. "I do enjoy seeing people clutching their stomachs and gasping for breath."
Turning around, he stuck his hands in his pockets and narrowed his eyes at her.
"What's really the problem?" he asked in a serious tone.
Afrah sighed. "I just can't seem to come up with anything. My mind just goes blank the moment I try to think of something."
"You're need some inspiration," he nodded slowly. "I get it. Frankly, I'm surprised at how you manage to live in this house without losing your sanity. Being cooped up in here all day is sure to put a damp on anyone's mood."
"Don't be ridiculous," she rolled her eyes. "I love it here."
"Aliyu tells me you haven't left the house on your own ever since we came here," he said. "Is that true?"
"Maybe," she sighed. "I don't even know."
"I could be your muse if you'd like," he smirked. "Just tell me where to stand and pose."
That made her laugh.
"I'd rather paint something I enjoy looking at," she said.
"Very funny," he said. "You should have considered a career in standup comedy."
Afrah laughed again.
"Touché."
He frowned as his phone began to ring, and Afrah took a step back as he pulled it out of his pockets.
"It's Aliyu," he muttered, answering the question before she even asked it.
"Hello?"
A pause.
"Who?"
Another pause.
"Is he alone?"
An even longer pause.
"Let him in then," he sighed. "But stay close. I have something I need you to do."
As he hung up, his gaze returned to Afrah's.
"It's someone who claims to be an old friend," he said. "I'm guessing it's Mubarak, because he's the only one I know who would refuse to tell the security his name."
"Why would he do that?" she asked.
"In his head, he's the next James Bond," Adnan chuckled. "He doesn't like sharing his name because it's 'valuable information' or something like that."
"Well, he needs to rethink that, because James Bond actually loves saying his name," Afrah laughed. Adnan pulled her towards him, heading for the door.
Outside, the car pulled up at the exact moment they stepped out of the house. Adnan didn't recognize it, and he knew Mubarak's car like the back of his hand. He turned to look at Afrah with a confused look, and the latter merely shrugged.
It was 38°C when they stepped out of the house, but the temperature seemed to drop to -1127°C when the driver's door popped open and a man stuck his head out. Afrah felt Adnan clench up beside her, cursing under his breath. Her heart thudded in her chest as well, as the familiar face smiled up at her nonchalantly.
Fahad looked impeccable in a navy blue suit with a red tie. He was leaner than the last time both of them had seen him, and his face was shaved completely now. His hair was longer, and his eyes seemed to sparkle even more in the sunlight.
"Well, well," he smirked, shutting the door and straightening his jacket. "I wasn't expecting this rousing welcome, but I'll take it."
Adnan took a step forward, his shoulders taut and his fists balled up beside him. It was a small step, but it was enough to send the message.
"What are you doing here?" he asked through gritted teeth.
Fahad turned to look at him slowly, almost as if he was seeing him for the first time.
"Your Grace," he dipped into an elegant bow. "It's been a while."
"I asked you a question," Adnan said fiercely.
"I was in the neighborhood," Fahad said with a lopsided grin. "I realized that I never got to congratulate you two on your.... wedding. So I came to do just that."
"We don't need your congratulations," he said. "You shouldn't have bothered."
Fahad turned to face Afrah.
"I hope you're happy now," he said calmly. "I would imagine that your marriage is even better than you had hoped for."
"It is," she replied, drawing her arms around her. "I'm very happy."
"Good," Fahad smirked as he took a step forward. Adnan took a step forward as well, bringing him within a few inches of the uninvited guest.
"I think you have forgotten what I told you during our last discussion," he said, dropping his voice to a menacing whisper.
"Actually," Fahad chuckled, "I remember everything you said quite clearly."
"Then why are you here?"
"Like I said, I was in the neighborhood."
"You have some nerve, Fahad," he said. "If you have an ounce of sense left, you will get the hell out of my house before I lose my temper."
The two stared at each other long and hard, fists balled up beside them. Afrah saw the way Adnan's shoulders tightened almost to a breaking point, and the way he spread his feet apart, looking more fierce with his eyes ablaze and narrowed to thin slits. She didn't understand the hostility between them, since they had always been friends. The awkwardness she felt was mostly because at a certain point, Fahad had come so close to ending up as her husband. She wondered how life would have turned out if she had become his wife instead of Adnan's.
"I should leave," Fahad said after several seconds of threatening silence. "But it was nice seeing you both."
"I wish I could say the same," Adnan replied.
"Afrah," Fahad stepped aside to look at her, "it was nice seeing you."
He turned around and walked towards his car, and Adnan's gaze followed him until he hopped in. As Fahad drove out of the house, he released the breath he had been holding.
"Adnan?" Afrah said quietly, "are you okay?"
"I need to hit something," he said. He sounded angry. Terrifying.
Slowly, she walked up to stand beside him and slipped her hands into his. She heard him sigh, and saw the way his shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Calm down," she said. "If it'll make you happy, you can be my muse."
That made him laugh.
"Well then, how could I ever refuse that offer?"
In a flash, he scooped her off her feet and into his arms. Afrah squealed as he pulled her to his chest, inhaling the scent of her hair.
"Adnan, put me down," she gasped.
"Not yet," he chuckled, carrying her back towards the house. "And not for a long while."
*
AN:
Hello,
First off, I want to say that I am very very very sorry for going this long without updating. I realize how unfair that was, and I truly apologize for that in the hope that you all will find it in your hearts to forgive me.
Disculpé.
Honestly, I've been away on health issues. For the last few days, I've been struggling to get back to work as quickly as possible, but it's been hard. Alhamdulillah, I've gotten better and I'm grateful for all the people who reached out. I appreciate it immensely.
I'm not going to lie and tell you all that I'm back to updating regularly. It might take a while, but Insha Allah I'll be back as soon as possible. I don't know when, but I'll continue praying and working to get better.
Thank you so much for understanding. Please bear with me through this.
Bye for now.
PS: it's not Covid. I've checked. 😇