Benjamin's POV
Staring at the space in the room, my dad approached me, "Son, I know you're feeling...off, but you need to know," he said, leaning in the doorway. "Your mother thinks she found her."
I shook my head in denial. "No," I barely breathed aloud.
This wasn't good.
"She's pretty damn sure, Ben," he started cautiously. "She just called. The girl is exactly as Yasmine described."
"Then she shouldn't come, Dad," I growled, standing up. "Keep her away from here. This...I can't...There's no... My life, this life, will ruin her! No one deserves this."
My father smiled sadly. "It's too late, son. She's accepted. your mother told me to tell you that it was a must that she comes here."
"Why?!"
"Ben, the girl..." He sighed, placing a hand on my shoulder. "First of all, the girl is brilliant. She'll do very well here. Second, she's..." He grimaced, shaking his head. "Son, she's damaged. There wasn't a chance in hell your mother would leave her alone, and it's quite possible that she's not the one."
"Well, I can damn well hope, right?" I sneered, hating myself for hoping and hating Yasmine even more for finding her.
_____________
Zahrah's POV
"Are you almost done ?" Mama asked as she descended the stairs.
"Yeah, I'm pretty set. Everything's packed to go. I got my remaining clothes into three large boxes and filled a rolling suitcase with shoes, hijabs, and purses. I think I got everything I need." I answered
She smiled at me from her chair in front of the baby crib, her attention wasn't on me. "You're always welcome to come back, Zahrah. The door's always open."
I smiled, knowing that this was a lie. Ever since my mother got married, she wanted me out of the house and into my father's house, and that was the truth.
After getting all the boxes out of the house and taking about an hour and a half to do so, my phone started ringing. I took out my phone from the pockets of my sweater and answered the call.
"Salam Alaikum?"
"Wa Alaykum s-salam, where are you? We are outside" The voice came from my father.
"Oh, um... Sorry, I ate Mama's Biryani. I was hungry. Sorry Baba," I apologized. I had forgotten to tell him that my step-father and mother insisted on me eating before leaving the house.
I blame the Biryani for getting me to forget to text Baba!
Ten minutes later, I see my dad and my little brother coming to the doorway.
"I'll load those things into the truck for you," My step-father, Khaled, said as he moved the first box.
"JazakallahKhair Abo-Ahmad, but there is no need, her brother and I can do it ourselves," Baba stated as Khaled backed down, he knew better than to get into a fight with my father about loading stuff in the car, again!
"Youssef come on, get that last box," Baba ordered my little brother as Youssef, the chubbiest in the family, made his way toward the house.
"Youssef!" Mama smiled as she put his hands around his plump figure. "I missed you and your brother! Where is he?" Mama said she continued chatting with Youssef while I tried to bring the box, so baba and Abo-Ahmad don't get into another fight of 'who is the strongest.'
"He didn't want to come," Youssef said as his attention was on the leftover on the table instead of my mother's conversation.
"Leave this box; it will hurt your back, Bnaity," Baba said as he took the box from me, and I rolled my eyes; he always looks at me as the little girl who would break her back if she lifted anything if he only knew I do boxing on the weekend he will flip! As my father loaded the last box and I went to sit inside the truck, Baba and Mama got into a fight again.
"He hasn't visited me in three months; why are you keeping him away from me!" My mom argued as Abo-Ahmad said, "Seek refuge with Allaah from the Shaytaan."
"I am not the one who is crazy; he is keeping my children away from me!" My mother said as my father laughed, "Alhamdulillah, you aren't my problem anymore."
"You are the one who kicked the boys out, and now you kicked your only girl out of the house, so don't blame me for something you are doing," My father argued back.
"astaghfirullah, Akhi, Twakal, and go to your truck," Abo-Ahmad advised as I moved past them and got in to see Youssef stuffing his face with the remaining Biryani.
I couldn't help but laugh when I saw his face, "Come on, fattie, we don't want Baba to get mad at us next," I said.
"This is soo good Zahrah, I haven't eaten real food in ages," This made me sad as I looked into the face of my younger brother; it was my fault he hasn't eaten that good since I am the reason for my parent's divorce.
Abo-Ahmad cleared his throat as I shifted my attention to him when I saw my mother running up the stairs, "Please go with your father before he gets into another fight with your mother." I nod as I took my brother, who was lost in eating that he didn't hear Abo-Ahmad's excellent way of kicking us out of here.
I opened the doors and hopped myself into the front seat as Youssef kept complaining through the drive that he was 'the man' and that he should be in the front seat and not me and I nearly strangled him, but instead, I let my father defend me.
"She is older; gender doesn't have anything to do with this, got it, Biryani boy," My father said as I laughed.
"You will love the new house ?" Baba said, filling the silence that filled the atmosphere.
"You moved from the ancient stinking apartment; that alone is an upgrade," I commented, looking through the window as I allow myself to relax against the cold, leather seat.
"We need to discuss where you are going to apply for med school, Zahrah. You need to find a university before the start of the new semester,"
"InshAllah," I turn away from him, putting on my sunglasses to hide my eyes.
I don't want to think about Med school or the fact that I finished my undergrad studies in a major I dread. At this moment in time, I don't want anything to do with the life my mother forced me into.
"Are you listening?" Baba asks, utterly oblivious to the lack of care my body language is exhibiting.
I murmur a brief, "Yeah."
"Okay. The good news is that I found you a new therapist, so this has been taken care of, so. It would be best if you focused on finding a med school to apply to. Understood?"
"Yeah."
The car comes to a smooth stop. I open the door, not wanting to spend another second in the closed-in space.
"Baba, did you rob a bank or something ?" I asked as I looked toward the mansion in front of me that in no way a police officer's salary could cover.
My father laughs as I stare toward the three-story townhouse in-front of me. "I am serious, Baba ?" I asked again.
"It isn't ours," Youssef intervened. "It's Emilia's house," Youssef casually stated.
"E-Emilia,"
Who was that?
