Accepted With Flaws

-lingering shade -

And We will surely test you with something of fear and hunger and a loss of wealth and lives and fruits, but give good tidings to the patient.

(Al-Baqarah 2:155)

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Omaiza's Pov

Mahira's reassuring touch on my hands is like a lifeline, grounding me as I struggle to put my emotions into words. "Mahi, it's not just about feeling like a third wheel," I finally manage to explain, my voice wavering. "It's about her words, her constant reminders that I'm not really a part of this family anymore, that I'm an outsider."

I can sense Mahira's empathy as she listens intently, her eyes conveying the sincerity of her concern. "She doesn't know about my past, about the struggles I've faced," I continue, my voice barely above a whisper. "But she judges me based on her own assumptions, and it hurts."

Mahira's grip on my hands tightens, offering silent support. "I've tried to bridge the gap," I confess, my gaze finally meeting hers. "I've attempted to talk to her, to make amends, but she always sees the worst in me. It's like I'm constantly walking on eggshells when I'm around her."

Tears finally spill from my eyes, and I let them flow freely. Mahira reaches into her bag, taking out a tissue and gently dabbing away my tears. "You don't deserve to be treated this way, Aiza," she says softly but firmly. "Family should be a source of love and acceptance, not judgment and exclusion."

I nod, my throat tight with emotion. "I just want to find my place again," I admit, my voice cracking. "I want to feel like I belong, like I'm a part of something bigger than myself."

Mahira offers a warm and understanding smile. "You do belong, Aiza," she reassures me. "You belong with us, with Yasir, with me, with Zay, and even with Yasmin aunty. Don't let her judgment define your worth. You're strong, resilient, and kind-hearted. Remember that."

Whenever Abbu and Yasir were out of town, Yasmin Aunty always found an opportunity to taunt me. She never missed a chance to remind me of how I was still clinging to my childish ways, even as adulthood had begun to beckon. Her comparisons to her own children were relentless, and the refrain echoed in my ears like a painful mantra: "Allah should have never given a good-for-nothing child like you."

As she hurled these hurtful words at me, a burning sensation would rise on my cheeks, lips, and nose. It was a struggle to hold back the tears, but when they came, they did so shamelessly, flowing down my cheeks like an unstoppable cascade. The cruel irony was that I never dared to confront her about the emotional torment she inflicted. Every time I tried, she twisted my words, making it seem as though I was the one in the wrong.

"I'm sorry, Aiza. I shouldn't have pushed you," Mahira's voice broke through my thoughts, her guilt evident in her tone. I mustered a weak smile. "No, it's alright. I feel better now," I responded, my sincerity contrasting with the weight of the memories.

Mahira reached out and placed her hand on my shoulder . "Do you want to change the topic or...?" Her words trailed off, leaving room for whatever I needed.

I energetically nodded my head. "Please! At this rate, I'll look like I came back from a funeral."

We decided to drop the heavy conversation, just as the waiter approached our table. He inquired politely, "What can I get you, ma'am?" Mahira ordered without hesitation, "One cold coffee and one mocha, please."

I couldn't help but stare intensely at her. "I want chocolate truffles, too," I added with a mischievous grin. She nodded and repeated our order, and the anticipation of a sweet treat lightened the atmosphere, erasing the traces of my emotional vulnerability.

-Time Skip-

As we walked towards the parking area, Mahira turned to me and asked, "So Aiza, do you have any plans for tomorrow?" I settled into the car, adjusting my seatbelt before replying, "No, nothing special. Do you have anything in mind?"

Her response was a mysterious smile. "I do, but it's nothing special. But I'm sure you'll enjoy it," she said cryptically, leaving me intrigued as I nodded and let the silence envelop us.

My thoughts, however, drifted towards Yasmin aunty. Was I still overly reliant on Abba? And why shouldn't I be? He was the only parent I had. Mahira's voice interrupted my contemplation. "Aiza, wait here, okay? I'll be right back." She exited the car and disappeared into the bank. It had to be something urgent to make her leave like that.

Resting my head against the window, taking a deep breath contemplating the month ahead. Just one more month of freedom remained before Yusra and her mum would arrive, once again casting their suffocating influence over my life. I resented how they had marred my childhood and sometimes wished I hadn't been born into that family.

My contemplation was abruptly disrupted by a loud knock on my window, causing me to jump in my seat and a gasp to escape my lips. Before me stood a man, blood flowing down the left side of his face. My initial shock turned into concern. What had happened to him? Should I roll down the window?

Desperation colored his plea as he begged, "I need to use your phone. Please! It's urgent!" Without a second thought, I quickly got out of the car, my rationale seemingly overridden by a sudden impulse to help this man in distress.

"Sir, are you okay? What do you need?" I inquired, my voice laced with worry. He responded in a thick, rough voice, "It would be great if you could pass me some water." Turning back to retrieve a bottle from my bag, I intended to assist him. However, that's when everything went black.

The world around me began to spin, and I felt disoriented. Was I walking, or was someone carrying me? Had I passed out? My head throbbed with pain, and I couldn't see anything. Panic gripped me as I called out for help, my voice trembling with fear.

"Help! Help! Don't leave me alone. Please, Abbu... Abbu... Mahira!" I cried out in my sleep, my entire body shivering. Someone began rubbing circles on my back, offering comfort. "Aiza, it's okay."

Slowly, I began regaining consciousness, my eyes fluttering open. I found myself in the safety of our room, my arms wrapped tightly around Mahira as if I never wanted to let go. Relief washed over me as I realized it had been just a bad dream.

Sweat trickled down my body as I became fully aware of my surroundings. "What time is it, Mahi?" I inquired.

Mahira checked the clock and responded, "It's 2:15 am." Seeing dark circles under her eyes, I felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."

Mahira playfully pinched my cheeks, her understanding nature shining through. "Oh, come on, Aiza, I was just kidding," she chuckled. "Ouch! You're hurting me, Mahi," I protested, pulling away slightly. She rolled her eyes but dropped her hands. "Accha (okay), good night, Aiza," she said, stifling a yawn.

"Good night, Mahi," I replied, finding solace in our friendship as we settled into the quiet of the night.