The Twins 7.
In the morning, Zainab was fast asleep when she was startled by the sound of her name being called. "Zainab, Zainab." She quickly sat up, disoriented, and found Mubarak standing in her room, just before her bed.
Still groggy, Zainab replied with a sleepy "Uhmm." Mubarak's purpose for waking her soon became clear. "Zainab, it's prayer time," he reminded her gently. "Please get up and pray." Zainab nodded, acknowledging his reminder. With that, Mubarak left for the mosque.
Zainab's eyes narrowed slightly as she thought to herself, "Even if he hadn't called out to me, I would have still woken up." A hint of annoyance flickered within her, directed at Mubarak for disturbing her quiet morning sleep.
Zainab went to the bathroom to take her ablution and perform her prayers. She also took a moment to recite her Quran before sunrise, finding solace in the quiet morning ritual. As she left her room, she intended to tackle her daily chores, but was surprised to find that everything had already been taken care of.
Zainab decided to return to her room and rest, feeling that her workload had been intentionally reduced. She wasn't one to indulge in excessive work, unlike her sister Zara, who took great pleasure in staying busy.
Zainab's thoughts drifted back to her childhood, remembering the countless times she clashed with her brother Yusuf. He was a strict individual, and Zainab felt he was always harder on her. Yusuf adored Zara, often praising her for being easy-going, obedient, and hardworking. Zainab couldn't deny that Zara was indeed a kind and diligent person.
However, Zainab felt that Yusuf was partial in his treatment of the two sisters. He rarely got angry with Zara, while Zainab felt that no matter what she did, it was always wrong in his eyes. This perceived bias had created tension between Zainab and Yusuf, leaving emotional scars that still lingered.
Zainab's brother Alamin was the polar opposite of Yusuf. While Yusuf was strict and serious, Alamin was carefree and casual. He prioritized fun and enjoyment, often taking his siblings and wife on outings and travels. He also valued family time, whether that meant exploring new places or simply staying at home together.
What's more, Alamin was incredibly wealthy, surpassing everyone in their family, including Mubarak and Lukman, in terms of riches. It was Hafsat that shared this insight with Zainab, noting that while Mubarak and Lukman were successful entrepreneurs, Alamin's wealth was above thiers.
As Zainab walked, lost in thought, she was suddenly snapped back to reality by the sound of her name being called. "Zainab!"
Zainab turned to see Mubarak seated in the hallway study nook, his laptop beside him, Zainab wondered why he had called her.
Zainab hesitated for a moment, her annoyance simmering just below the surface. She felt Mubarak was acting as if nothing was amiss between them, which only added to her irritation. Despite her reservations, she eventually decided to approach him, her feet carrying her towards Mubarak with a mix of reluctance and curiosity, but Mubarak didn't immediately acknowledge her presence.
Finally, he raised his head, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Since you cannot greet me, then let me greet you. Good morning, Zainab." His tone was playful, but also slightly teasing, as if chiding her for not initiating the greeting.
Zainab's initial silence gave way to a belated greeting, "Oh, good morning."
Mubarak responded with a gentle inquiry, "Morning, how was your night?" Zainab's reply was brief, "Fine, alhamdulillah."
As she turned to leave, Mubarak suddenly grasped her hand, his firm grip sending shivers down her spine. Zainab froze, her body reacting to the unexpected touch. Realizing his mistake, Mubarak quickly released her hand, his eyes locking onto hers for a fleeting moment before he looked away.
Mubarak apologized, recalling his promise from the night before. "Sorry, Zainab," he said, noticing her downcast eyes. He thought to himself, remembering the promise he made.
Mubarak began to explain, "This won't happen again..." He wanted to reassure her, but Zainab cut him off. "It's okay," she said, her voice gentle but firm, indicating she didn't want to discuss it further.
Zainab's expression changed, and she asked, "Why did you stop me?" Her eyes locked onto Mubarak's, seeking an explanation for his sudden action.
Mubarak stood up from his seat and held the chair out for Zainab to sit beside him. It was a polite gesture, inviting her to join him.
Zainab thanked him, though noted it wasn't necessary, before taking a seat. "Thank you, but you didn't have to."
Zainab's initial desire was to simply leave Mubarak's presence, but now that he had offered her a seat, she felt a sense of resignation wash over her. She realized that accepting his offer would likely prolong her stay, making it harder for her to leave anytime soon.
Mubarak returned to his own seat and sat down, his eyes fixed on Zainab. Her head was downcast, her gaze avoiding his as she await his words. The air was filled with anticipation, as Mubarak prepared to respond to her earlier question.
Mubarak looked at Zainab with sincerity. "Zainab, like I told you, I just want to know you, and for you to know me." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "But I didn't know where to start. People usually say I'm boring," he admitted, scratching the back of his head as he chose his words carefully.
"I like working and studying a lot," he continued, "and I find it hard to connect or make new friends, unless it's for study or business purposes." Mubarak's eyes locked onto Zainab's, hoping she would understand him better.
Zainab was taken aback by Mubarak's admission, unsure of how to respond. She didn't want to revealing to him that she, too, struggled to connect with people she found boring. She recalled how she often took space from her sister, who she thought had a similar habit to Mubarak when it comes to studies.
To break the awkward silence, Zainab's gaze fell on Mubarak's laptop, and she said, "Then let's work together." Her words hung in the air, a gentle attempt to shift the conversation and ease the tension, even though Zainab's words had slipped out without much thought.
Mubarak was happy that Zainab was making an effort to connect with him. "Thank you, Zainab," he said, his gratitude genuine. He then asked, "Are you sure you can work with me, Zainab?" Zainab's response was a gentle smile, but she didn't say anything.
Instead, she picked up some printed documents beside his laptop, changing the subject. "What are you going to do with these?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
Mubarak explained, "I want to make a report with these. We have a presentation at our partner's company, but my staff's reports weren't up to par, so I decided to do it myself." He gestured to his laptop, "After I finish this."
Mubarak continued working on his laptop as Zainab reviewed the documents. She borrowed some of his spare pens and a full scape, her eyes scanning the pages intently.
Mubarak's curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, "What are you doing, Zainab?" Her response was casual, "Nothing, just checking some things." The room fell silent, with only the sound of Mubarak's typing and Zainab's scribbling breaking the stillness.
As Mubarak worked, he couldn't help but glance up at Zainab from time to time. She remained focused on her notes, her brow furrowed in concentration. Mubarak's curiosity grew, and he wondered what she was up to.
After nearly an hour, Zainab finally handed Mubarak three full scapes, all six sides filled with notes, She passed them to him.
Mubarak's eyes widened in surprise as he asked, "What is this?" Zainab's response was humble, "The report. If it might help, even if it's just a little bit." Mubarak took the scapes from her, his eyes scanning the pages as he flipped through them.
As he reviewed the documents, Mubarak's gaze drifted up to Zainab, his eyes locking onto hers with an intense stare. Zainab felt a flutter of discomfort under his piercing gaze. "What?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as she met his gaze, her eyes searching for an explanation for his intense scrutiny.
Mubarak remained silent, now focused on reading the reports until he finished. Once he completed his review, he looked up at Zainab and asked, "Who taught you how to write a report?"
Zainab didn't respond, but her education spoke for itself, having attended a good school that taught her valuable skills. Mubarak's expression changed to one of admiration as he complimented her work. "Your work is excellent," he said, smiling. Zainab smiled back, her eyes lighting up a bit.
Mubarak reviewed the work again, impressed by how much Zainab had simplified the task. She had significantly reduced his workload, leaving only minor adjustments to align the report with their company's policies and those of their partner company.
Mubarak couldn't help but believe what Zainab's brothers had said about the twins being gifted. At such a young age, without even a degree, Zainab had produced outstanding work that rivaled that of his highly educated staff.
Mubarak's thoughts drifted back to his own youth. At Zainab's age, he and Lukman were also high achievers, always eager to take on new challenges. This enthusiasm had driven them to start their company together. They had been inseparable, sharing a passion for innovation and progress.
However, Mubarak's thoughts were interrupted by concerns about Lukman's recent behavior. Nowadays, Lukman seemed to be withdrawing from work and social interactions. He had been assigned to handle the current project, but his progress was slow. Lukman would often come to work, only to accomplish a few tasks before leaving again. Mubarak couldn't help but wonder what was behind Lukman's sudden lack of enthusiasm.
Mubarak's gaze shifted back to Zainab, who was seated and engrossed in reviewing some of his documents. He couldn't help but think about how much he had learned about her through her brothers, Yusuf and Alamin. They would often speak about the twins, and it was clear that they cared deeply for thier sisters.
Mubarak's thoughts turned inward, and he recalled how he would frequently call Yusuf to ask about Zainab. Now, he wondered if Yusuf had been aware of his interest in her all along. A possibility dawned on him - maybe Yusuf's suggestion that he marry Zainab hadn't been a casual comment after all. Maybe Yusuf had known it all along.
Zainab abruptly stood up, prompting Mubarak to ask, "Where are you going?" She replied matter-of-factly, "I'm going back to my room." Mubarak didn't press the issue, and as Zainab walked away, he was left to his thoughts.
To himself, he mused that he must have bored Zainab with his work. A hint of self-doubt crept in, and he couldn't help but wonder, "Maybe I would never stop being boring." The thought lingered, a quiet concern that he couldn't shake. The thought echoed a familiar criticism, one that Barakah used to voice about him.
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Zara woke up early, before the dawn broke. Though she still didn't feel like herself, she sensed a slight improvement from the previous day. It was a small comfort, but it gave her the strength to start her day.
She began her morning routine by heading to the bathroom to perform her ablutions. With her body and mind refreshed, she proceeded to pray her Fajr prayer. As she stood before Allah, she felt a deep sense of longing for His guidance and wisdom. She yearned for His presence in her life, seeking solace in her faith.
After her prayer, Zara devoted time to her daily remembrance of Allah. She recited her daily Zikr, repeating the sacred phrases that brought her peace and comfort. She then opened her holy book, pouring over the words that had brought her solace and strength throughout the years. As she read, she felt a sense of calm wash over her, reminding her that she was not alone in her struggles.
As Zara descended the stairs, she was met with a welcome sight - Lukman seated at the dining table. Her relief was palpable, and she felt a sense of gratitude that he had returned. She noticed him sipping tea and scrolling through his laptop, his focus seemingly elsewhere.
Despite her desire to reconnect with him, Zara's fear of being rebuffed held her back. She hesitated to approach him, recalling the tension from the previous day. Instead, she chose to walk past him, heading towards the kitchen in silence.
To her surprise, Lukman didn't acknowledge her presence or even glance in her direction. The silence between them was deafening, and Zara couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. She had hoped that his return would mark a new beginning, but the awkwardness between them lingered.
Zara entered the kitchen to find Nafisat already busy with the morning chores. "Good morning," Zara said, joining Nafisat at the sink to help with the dishes.
Nafisat smiled warmly and replied, "Morning." Zara returned the smile, and together they tackled the household chores, sweeping, cleaning, and organizing every room. However, they respectfully avoided the parlour, where Lukman was seated, not wanting to disturb him. In fact, Zara had even taken the initiative to tidy up his room, ensuring everything was perfect.
When they finished the chores, Zara made her way to the parlour, where Lukman sat, his eyes fixed on his laptop. She sat beside him, positioning herself in a way that allowed her to face him. Leaning her head against the couch, she gazed at him with searching eyes, seeking answers to the unspoken questions that had been weighing on her mind.
Her eyes locked onto his, pleading for an explanation. "Lukman, please tell me what's wrong," she implored, her voice soft with concern. "Have I done anything to offend you? Have I..." She paused, hoping he would fill the silence with an answer. But before she could continue, Lukman's hand rose, his palm facing her, a clear signal to stop.
Lukman's words were like a dagger to Zara's heart. "Give me space," he said, his tone firm but laced with a hint of detachment.
The words cut through her like a sharp knife, leaving her feeling pain, shattered, and heartbroken. The weight of his rejection settled heavy on her shoulders, making it hard for her to breathe. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of despair, with no lifeline in sight.
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