Behind A Smile ✔

3

The day broke faster than Zynah had anticipated. She was awakened by the relentless call to prayer. Stretching, she rose, her whole body still aching. The bathroom offered her a moment of solace as she performed her ablution. .

Emerging from the bathroom, her gaze landed on Bilal who was still comfortably sleeping in the bed and snoring lightly. Waking him for prayer was a gamble. She dared not for she knew what the outcome of her action would be and she wasn't prepared to face it yet — the day had only just begun. Bilal was the type of person who didn't like his sleep to be disturbed. He would probably get up like a wounded lion ready to pounce on his prey.

Breathing profoundly, Zynah retrieved her prayer mat from the top of her bookshelf, where she always put it. Facing the Qibla, she spread it neatly on the floor and began her Fajr prayer. Each movement, each whispered supplication, was a plea for strength, for guidance. After she had finished praying, she remained on the mat, pouring her heart out to the Almighty and begging Him to forgive her for all of the mistakes she had made. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she buried her face in her folded hands.

Folding the prayer mat, Zynah noticed Bilal had still not woken up. She contemplated on waking him or not. He would be angry — she knew that for sure, but decided to still do it anyways, as a religious obligation.

She sauntered towards the spot the always kept the mat after use and returned it to his place, then headed towards the bed. "Bi—" she was about to utter his name, but cut herself off abruptly before she could do that. Since the day he started abusing her, she had stop uttering his name from her mouth. His name alone saddened her. She used to be happy, then he came along and ruined her life. He made her feel empty inside. She was still breathing, but her life was meaningless already Swiftly, she shook her head, getting rid of the thought from her head. She inched closer to him and tapped him on the shoulder once, but got no response from him. She repeated the action severally before his eyes fluttered open. He groaned and started muttering words that were incoherent to Zynah's ears.

She paid no attention to what he was saying and spoke quickly; "it's time for prayer." before he would start behaving maniacally, she turned around and fled the room.

Bilal's gaze trailed behind her retreating figure, a flicker of something crossing his face before he, too, rose to perform his ablution. By the time he emerged from the bathroom, he knew he was not going to catch up with the congregational prayer so he settled for a solitary prayer at home.

Zynah was just about to start preparing breakfast when she heard the doorbell ring. She couldn't fathom who was at the door in such early hours of the morning. "I'm coming." She yelled, as the doorbell continued to ring. "Who's there?" She inquired when she finally got to the door.

"It's me, Khadijah," came the reply from outside the door.

"What is she doing here?" Zynah gasped. "What if he sees her?" She quickly opened the door and allowed her in for it was beginning to seem rude, leaving a guest outside for a long time. "Khadi...jah" she stuttered, her voice laced with fear.

"Good morning to you too." she responded, sarcastically and went ahead to take a seat on the couch in the living room.

Zynah offered a weak smile. "I'm sorry, I was just so surprised to see you here at this time of the day."

Khadijah didn't reply. It was as if she didn't even hear what Zynah was saying because her gaze was focused on Zynah, searching relentless for something on her body.

Zynah noticed the way her friend's gaze was fixed on her and it made her feel exposed. "Hey! Are you alrigh—"

"I should be the one asking you that, not the other way around." Khadijah cut her in, her voice sharp. "They say; the mouth may lie, but never the eyes, but Zynah yours are telling a different story. How do you manage to do this?"

"What do you mean?" Zynah chuckled, standing up. "I'm perfectly alright. Let me get you something to eat and—"

Khadijah grabbed her wrist before she could leave, "I'm not here to eat, I'm here to talk. What's wrong, Zynah?"

She looked at her wearily. "I have told you; nothing is wrong." Every fiber of her being screamed to confess. She wanted to cry on her friend's shoulder and blurt out every single thing her husband had ever done to her, but fear, a cold, constricting force, held her captive. She controlled herself from showing even a tad bit of melancholia. "Nothing is wrong, okay?" her voice was a monotone.

Khadijah seemed unconvinced by her words. Her brows furrowed in perplexity. "Then why did you end our call yesterday so hastily? I even heard something falling, were you the one?"

"Oh that?" Zynah laughed, hysterically. "That was because I had to use the bathroom urgently. I'm sorry I didn't call you back." She apologized.

Khadijah nodded her head, but the demeanor she had on, anyone could tell she didn't buy the story. She was about to speak when she noticed a bruise on Zynah's hand. Her heart lurched as she quickly caught her wrist and asked; "what's this, Zynah? Who did this to you?"

Zynah recoiled, yanking her hand back. "What do you mean who did this to me? You don't think—no!" she laughed, feigning humor. "My husband would never hurt me. He loves me. I burnt myself while cooking yesterday."

"But it doesn't—"

Khadijah began but Zynah was quick to cut her off. "If you're only here to accuse my husband of what he is not capable of doing, please leave."

Khadijah shook her head. she seemed more convinced that Bilal was indeed hurting Zynah, given how defensive she got, but she decided to let the matter rest for the time being. She would bring up the topic on another day. "I guess I have overstayed my welcome." She gave a closed lip smile and got up to leave.

Zynah resisted the urge to stop her from leaving. She wanted to apologize for the way she spoke to her. She wanted to tell her she wasn't the enemy like she made it look, but her abusive husband, but her feet remained glued to the floor and her lips, sealed.

Hearing the door close, Zynah sat down on the couch, demoralized. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, blurring her vision and a lone tear escaped, then more followed. She had lost a good friend.

Lost in her silent grief, she did not hear Bilal's approach. His voice, hoarse and laced with suspicion, ripped through her despair. "I heard voices, who were you speaking to?"