Chapter 49- Letting It Out

There were moments in her life when all she ever wanted was to talk to someone, someone who understood her and there were moments when all she wanted was to be left alone. There were also moments when all she wanted was...something but nothing; she had no idea what she wanted, but she knew she wanted something.

Najmah paced the length of her room, wondering about what she wanted at that moment. Her heart was in turmoil and her mind was muddled, her hands numb from all the painting she had done from the day before and the day before that.

Mayhap she had exerted too much pressure on herself she thought as she wriggled her hands. A searing pain wound its way through her whole body and with a sigh, she arched her back to relieve herself of the pain.

She dropped down on her bed with a huff and stared at the ceiling, refusing to think about the events that transpired the day before.

As if pricked by a thorn, she stood up abruptly and donned on a jilbab before slipping her feet into a pair of slippers. She picked up her phone and credit card then stepped out of her room, making sure the coast was clear before tiptoeing into her mother's bedroom to pick up her car keys; she needed a breather, the whole house was suffocating her.

She hopped down the stairs and ran into the garage unlocking the car in the process, needing to get out before anyone could see and stop her.

{••}

Her first stop was at Shorprite where she bought a couple of comic books and Haribo before venturing into the cinema where she watched Night School for the third time. She needed a good laugh after all the rollercoaster ride of emotions she had been through for the past few days, and the movie was just the right thing.

She was on her second bag of Haribo when the movie ended and she ventured into Shorprite again to buy a handful more before finally exiting the mall.

On her way to the parking lot, she caught sight of Fahad who was about to go home after buying some gadgets for his siblings from Game.

A genuine smile lit up her face for the first time in months and she wasted no time in rushing towards his car; she needed to thank him for what he had done for her that day in Istanbul, only Lord knows what would have happened to her if he had left Istanbul before that fateful night.

"Fahad," she called out, his name rolling off her tongue smoothly.

He whipped around and faced her, his heartbeat accelerating. How much he had missed hearing her call his name.

"Najmah," he responded, a ghost of a smile haunting his lips. "How have you been?"

"Surviving," she shrugged nonchalantly, leaning onto his car.

He cocked his eyebrow, assessing her face for any hint of pain or sorrow; she had become leaner and paler than the last time he saw her and despite the smile on her face, he could see the pain that hid deep behind her orbs. He found himself wondering what had occurred on that fateful night three months ago.

Was it in his place to ask about her pain? Did he still have the right to feel the urge of ridding her of her pain when she still belonged to someone? Did he still have the right to meddle in her affairs?

"I know you don't like it when people thank you for what you have done for them, but I would still like to thank you for what you did for me months ago," she began, placing a finger on her lips to shush him before he could interrupt her.

A smile graced his lips when it dawned on him that she knew him more than anyone else before quickly shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts of the relation they had shared in the past. That was what it was, the past. It hurt him to know that she belonged to someone else and that what they once shared was no longer there. Life was genuinely unpredictable, you plan and Allah plans and He is the best of planners; perhaps there was someone out there waiting for him.

"Can I ask you something?" she questioned, startling him out of his daze.

"Of course," he nodded.

"What really happened on the day of our nikkah? If you didn't commit the crime you were accused of, then why were the drugs found in your possession?"

"Do you remember that friend of mine Mukhtar Yusuf?"

"Mk? The womaniser?" she furrowed her brows, wondering what he had to do with the arrest.

"The one and only," Fahad chuckled painfully. "He hid the drugs in my car the night before our wedding then sent the police after me. Apparently, he was still holding a grudge against me because I refused to let him court Fatima."

"Damn!" she gasped, shocked by the revelation. "I never liked him. I always thought he looked shady, but I never thought he was capable of doing such to anyone much less to you on your wedding day."

"Yeah, well," he shrugged. "Life sucks."

"Don't do that," she lifts her hand to hit him before stopping midway, coughing awkwardly. "Don't pretend like it was no big deal."

"You rub off on me," he chuckled playfully. "You are the queen of pretense anyway."

She stilled, his words hitting her right where it hurt the most.

"I am sorry," he apologized awkwardly. "I shouldn't have."

"No, it's okay," she shook her head, faking a smile. "You're right."

He nodded, silence descending on them; a tension, awkwardly filled silence.

"Najmah, are you okay?" he questioned, trying to break through the awkwardness.

She kept mum, deciding on whether to tell him or not. Her walls had begun to crumble and she knew that any moment from then, she could break down. She could say goodbye to him and run to her car where she would cry in silence or brave up and tell him what she was actually feeling.

Running away would mean losing the one person who was willing to listen to her pain and telling him would mean letting someone in and breaking the door to the pain she had kept hidden.

"I am not okay," she shook her head, tears flowing down her face. "I am not okay, Fahad."

He nodded, knowing that he had at least gotten her to open up to him. He opened the passenger door of the car for her and invited her in before circling over to the driver's side to get in.

"It is okay to not be okay Najmah."

"But it is not okay for me, I don't wanna feel this way. It hurts so much that I...it hurts me here," she placed a hand over her heart. "It hurts me deeply and every night before I go to bed, I cry myself to sleep. That is what he has reduced me to, a crying puddle of mess. I can't think straight, I can't breathe, I feel so suffocated and when I remember all that happened, I feel like clawing out my skin so I wouldn't be reminded of him. No one understands me, they think I'm being a brat by sending him away. Every night while I'm lying in bed, I can hear Abba and Ummita arguing. Their voices would carry out through the night and into my room. It was always about one thing; my overstayed welcome in the house," she wiped her tears away yet, they kept on rushing. "Ummita wants the issue to be resolved while Abba wants them to let me be for a while, he at least might know what I am going through. They all are against me pushing Aslan away but not for once have they ever sat me down and asked me what I am going through. Not for once did anyone ask me what I wanted. Not for once did they ever stop to wonder what sort of condition I was in. Ummita calls it a phase," she chuckled dryly, letting her tears flow. "But it's more than that. All my life, I have been depressed, but does she know that? Does anyone apart from Adda? I've been receiving mental care since I was 14 and yet no one knows apart from Adda. She is my mother, she is supposed to know everything from the pain that I hide, my anxiety, my depression, my mental condition and everything, she's supposed to know that. I am in so much pain, I could feel my heart burning. The pain is so....I can't even tell you how much it hurts. Ummita is supposed to be on my side yet she chose him, she chose to be on his side not knowing what I am going through."

"Najmah," he sighed, placing his hand on the steering wheel. "Have you ever let your guard down around her? Did you ever consider letting her in? Have you ever told her what you were going through?"

"She never gave me the chance," she whispered lowly, leaning back into the car seat. "She never allowed me to voice out my pain. I have so many emotions bottled up, I am slowly dying inside. The pain is killing me slowly Fahad, it's killing me."

"Najmah, Allah doesn't burden a soul with what He knows he couldn't handle, and in shaa Allah, everything will soon come to pass. I know that what he did was wrong and as your ex, I'm going to tell you that he's an asshole and he doesn't deserve your tears nor your forgiveness. But as your friend, I am telling you to give him a chance and hear his side of the story."

"But..."

"No buts Najmah. I know that you are hurting, but what you are doing, you are only hurting yourself even more. You need to know why he asked you to leave and what he wants from you now in order to decide what is best for you. You need the closure, only then will you be able to find peace. That much I can assure you. And as for Ummita, you need to sit down and have a talk with her. You always pretend that everything is okay even when it's not so how can you assume that she would know things are not okay when you tell her the opposite? How would she know you're in pain when you choose to suffer in silence? Do you think it's fair to block her out then blame her for her ignorance? The choice is yours, you either let people in and be happy or block them out and be depressed for the rest of your life."

She was silent after that, realising the fault in her actions. Maybe Fahad was right, but in her defense, Ummita never gave her the chance to freely talk to her. How was a depressed person supposed to talk about his anguish when he had no listening ears? How was that person supposed to let people in when they live in a world where people suffering from mental issues are stigmatized and shunned? How was that person supposed to say she was depressed knowing that the word was almost a taboo in the northern part of Nigeria.

"Thank you for your time Fahad," she sniffed, dabbing a part of her jilbab on her face. "I will take your advice into consideration. Thank you for everything, I feel better now."

"You would feel much better when you let them in," he said, passing her a bottle of water to wash her face. "Especially your husband, he deserves a second chance."

She nodded before getting out of the car, uttering another thank you. He waved her off before speeding out of the lot.

On her way towards her car she came to the realisation that something had changed in her; she wasn't the same anxious and nervous wrecked girl she was when she woke up in the morning, she was happy, as happy as anyone in her condition could ever be and maybe even better. She felt lighter and more at ease with her woes, talking was definitely therapy for the depressed.

She got into the car and drove out of the parking lot with one thought on her mind; it was time to make a life changing decision.

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