Against The Tide (Formerly Two Tribes)

77: Solitary Whispers

The screen, dark and unresponsive, mocked Jameel with twenty missed call notifications. He craved the sound of Najah's soft voice. The gentle lilt that always soothed the storm within him. She always had the perfect words to ease his anger and make him feel good about himself unlike Afrah, whose sole mission in life seemed to be dismantling his spirit and draining the life out of him.

Jameel reclined back into the wooden chair; his head tossed backward. He was drowning in a sea of emotions with no one to run to for help.

Asim, his confidant, was battling with his own martial issues. Jameel did not want to burden him with his own problems.

He couldn't run to Hajiya either. She had practically disowned him. A whole week had passed without any form of communication between them. He yearned for her warm embrace and forgiveness.

He was tired of Afrah's emotional blackmail and verbal abuse—the gaslighting, guilt tripping, yelling and screaming  needed to stop. He was slowly losing his sanity. He just wanted to unburden himself, to spill the venomous contents of his life onto a listening ear. But there was no one. The isolation was a constant reminder of how he had taken Najah's love for granted and blindly believed and did everything to please Afrah.

With a trembling hand, Jameel picked up his phone; a silent prayer forming in his heart. His thumb hovered over Najah's contact. He pressed the call button, the dial tone echoed in the suffocating silence of the room. Then, a miracle. After what felt like an eternity, the ringing stopped and Najah's melodious voice filled his ear.

"Assalamualaikum, Jameel..."

Jameel's breath hitched. "Wa alaikum salaam, Najah..." he rasped; the sound rough and unfamiliar even to his own ears.  "How are you doing?"

"I'm alright," Najah's response was curt, devoid of the usual warmth that soothed him. It made him realize she had no interest in speaking to him, whatsoever.

"It's been a while..." Jameel attempted to start a conversation, but his voice trailed off.

"What do you want?" Najah's cold voice echoed in his ear.

"I...I was just..." Jameel stuttered, trying to explain what was going on in his head, but nothing was making sense. He had no idea where he was supposed to start.

"Please," Najah beseeched. "I'd appreciate it if you just go straight to the point. I have limited to spare."

Jameel swallowed a lump in his throat. His hope of venting to Najah snapped, leaving him hopeless once more. Even Najah was distant—he understood her though, but the subtle hostility reminded him of Afrah's.

"How is...Hajiya doing?" The question tumbled out, his voice barely a whisper.

"You don't have to worry about her," Najah assured. "I'm here to take care of her. She's perfectly fine."

Jameel nodded. He hadn't really been worried because he knew his mother was in safe hands. "Thank you."

"You really don't have to thank me. Hajiya is like a mother to me. There is nothing I can do to repay her kindness towards me. It has nothing to do with you. Really."

The finality in her voice struck a painful truth into his heart. He was not just shut out of Najah's life, but in her heart as well. He had become an afterthought. She had clearly moved on without him.

"Naja—"

"If that is all," she interrupted. "I'd like to hand up."

"No, please wait!" Jameel pleaded, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I have a favor to ask."