. . .

. . .

~

"Indeed, Allah will not change the condition of a people until they change what is in themselves." (Qur'an 13:11)

~

When Zoya knocks on the door of her in-laws' apartment, she feels as if her heart may hop out of her rib cage and explode into a million pieces.

And she thinks she would prefer it to having to face these three women. These women who have done so much for her and she has only betrayed them in the end.

For this meeting, she has brought Mumtaz with her. Because although Zoya knows now that she has her Muhaymin, her Qawiyy, her Wali, she still needs the comfort of human contact. Mumtaz rubs her hand soothingly, especially when footsteps proceed closer from the other side of the door.

The door that Naima opens.

The soft openness on her tired face disappears the moment she sees Zoya. For a moment, there is nothing but pure shock. Pure shock at seeing her sister-in-law almost three months later. Then her face takes on an uncharacteristic lividity, as if the blood beneath her skin is boiling to the surface.

"Amma," she shouts sharply behind her, causing Zoya to flinch. "Look who finally showed up." Her voice is too high, too shaky. Like she is trying to repress the shudders threatening to roll throughout her.

Zoya stands motionlessly, rattled by Naima's uncharacteristic sharpness. The younger woman watches her with fierce, wide eyes. Eyes that attempt to pierce into Zoya's skin.

From behind her appears Ammi. Zoya's heart rate seems to slow and the room seems to dim. The older woman is frail and weak, head full of gray hair, bags underneath her eyes as dark as shadows. Eyes that widen considerably upon seeing Zoya.

And Aisha follows, freezing in the doorway when she catches sight of her absentee sister-in-law. The sister-in-law who murdered a man's heart and then fled from the crime scene.

It breaks Zoya's already fragile heart to see people so close to Haroun. Their presence teases her, reminding her of his absence.

"Aa jaye," Naima breaks the silence in that same sharp voice, gesturing to the inside of the apartment. "Hum aapke hi muntazir hain." Sarcasm drips heavily from her voice.

Ammi's eyes rove over Zoya's weak and sallow form. The once beautiful Zoya Zameer. Sunken skin, hollow eyes. Her mother-in-law reaches forward unsurely before stepping back. "Zoya?" she mumbles in a feeble voice.

Zoya's voice fails in front of these women whom she has cheated and robbed of happiness. Her eyes trail to Naima's, again surprised to find them cold and unrelenting. Then to Aisha's, which are confused and disbelieving.

"I'm — " Zoya's lips tremble and she falls to her knees, crying. Ammi and Aisha reach down to help her up, but Naima stays by the door. Cold and stoic.

The two women upright her but step back immediately, eyes wary. Finally, Ammi says, "I . . . wanted to believe it wasn't true." Her shoulders begin to shake. "But you've been ignoring us. And now seeing your state . . . " An indent forms between her brows, grief pools in her eyes.

Silence settles among them all for a few long moments. Ammi continues to watch her daughter-in-law, and the constantly shifting expressions in her eyes scare Zoya. As if Ammi can't decide which part of her emotions to put on full display. The shock, the denial, the absolute grief.

Finally she murmurs, "Why didn't you ever open the door when we came knocking? Barring yourself away like that . . . it only made you look more guilty. Lying about your health . . . " Her chest heaves as she takes a shaky breath. "Do you have any idea what you've put us through? Didn't know if you were alive, if you were okay. Found out about you from the news, not knowing what's true and what's a lie."

Ammi advances forward slowly, reaching a hand up to capture one of Zoya's flyaway curls. She watches it carefully before flicking her eyes back to Zoya. "I told you to call me Ammi. I made you my daughter." The older woman's lips tremble. "Koi maa k saath aise karta hai?" Her hand drops. "Koi maa k saath itni bari zyaati karta hai? Koi maa ko itna parishaan rakhta hai k us ko pata hi na ho us ki beti kahan hai, kis haal me hai? Koi maa k saath is tarha ka sulook karta hai?" Ammi begins to cry. "Koi bhi beti maa k saath is tarha kar sakti hai?"

Zoya shakes her head back and forth, tears streaming down her face. She reaches forward to grab her mother-in-law's hand but Ammi backs away, shaking her head. "Tumhe andaaza bhi hai k tum ne apni maa ko kitna parishaan rakha hai in teen maheeno me? Tum dono ne — tum ne aur Haroun ne."

Zoya's lips barely move to mouth the words "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" over and over again.

"What is a mother for?" Ammi's question pierces deep into Zoya. "Hmm? Maa ka haq nahi hai k wo apne bacho ke maslihaat me un ka saath de?" She backs away, sagging against Naima. "Tum dono ne mujhe maa ka haq nahi adaa karne diya. Nahi adaa karne diya."

Zoya's very heart begins to tremble. What is worse about Ammi's words is that they display her heartbreak not primarily over what Zoya has done to Haroun, but of Zoya's avoidance of her after her lie was exposed. Of Zoya barring herself away from the only woman apart from Mumtaz willing to be her mother.

Naima laughs scornfully then, cutting off her mother's pained confession. "You really played us all, didn't you, bhabhi?" Aisha throws her sister a furtive, confused look, but Naima barrels forward. Relentless. "Played with my brother. Made him marry a woman on the brink of death and made him fall in love with you. And then you broke his heart. You know what, though?" She wipes angry tears away. "May God ask you. May Allah ask you for what you've done to him."

Zoya breaks out into sobs at these words, and Mumtaz — responding to her cries as if they are a magnet — rubs her side, trying to calm her down. Ammi watches her, watches both of them.

The pain-stricken grief never leaves her eyes.

Only Aisha stands by the door, eyes darting warily and confusedly around at the women before her.

"You shouldn't have done this," Ammi whispers, crestfallen. "You really should not have done this."

Zoya's lips tremble as Mumtaz rubs her arm soothingly.

"Where is he?" Zoya whispers tangentially, voicing the question that has been plaguing her for weeks.

Naima laughs again. Mirthlessly. "You don't get to ask that now. You don't. Not after what you've done to him."

Zoya is appalled by Naima's behavior, not because Zoya doesn't deserve it but because she was not expecting this from Naima.

But Naima has always been the softer one — so much like her brother in character. Zoya knew she had trust issues, knew she was reluctant to open up, knew about all of her insecurities. And still she hurt her.

The softest are always the most anguished when they break.

"Please," Zoya whispers, reaching forward to hold Naima's hand. The younger woman steps back, folding her arms across her chest unyieldingly.

Then Zoya turns to Ammi, trying to place her hands on the older woman's shoulders. But Ammi holds a hand up quietly, eyebrows scrunching together in pain. Somehow, her silence is worse than if she had been angry. Zoya wishes Ammi would yell, scream that Zoya is a horrible person, threaten to make her life a living hell. But she does no such thing. Instead she remains mute, which pierces Zoya's heart in the worst way possible.

Finally, Zoya turns to Aisha. The prestigious Zoya Zameer, rendered helpless in front of these women she has lied to. Begging them for forgiveness like paupers beg for food on the streets.

Zoya looks into Aisha's confused, worried eyes and says, "Please, Aisha. Tell your brother to come back." She came here wanting to ask for forgiveness, but seeing their unyielding states, Zoya has been rendered helpless again. "Please — "

"How can you even dare to say that after what you've done to him?" Naima snaps angrily, causing Zoya to flinch again. "Besides, we have minimal contact with him, too." When Zoya gazes at her in bewilderment, Naima nods. "Yeah. You took him away from us, too. All he said before he left was that he needed time and that he'd be safe. And not to worry." Naima's breath hitches. "Since then, he's just been sending us money and talking to us once in couple days." She clears her throat and stands up straighter, trying to hold herself together. "So thank you for that, bhabhi." The last word she spits out bitterly. "Thank you for forcing a responsible man to abandon his family."

Zoya's eyebrows knit in worry. Even they are not in constant contact with him? Oh, God.

She falls back and Mumtaz catches her just in time. She whispers words of comfort in Zoya's ear. "Hosla karo. This is not good for your condition."

At this, Ammi raises her eyes to them. "Condition?" she whispers, bewildered. "What condition?"

Naima laughs scornfully. "Haven't you heard, Amma? She's terminally ill, remember? On the brink of death."

Zoya's breath heaves at these words. They seem to pierce into her skull like knives. Constant, persistent. Reminding her of her awful mistake over and over again.

As she deserves.

But Mumtaz shakes her head at Naima. "No, beta. There's . . . something else."

Mumtaz tells the women the news, to which Ammi responds with a look of pure shock, staggering backwards. Aisha raises a hand to her mouth and her shoulders shake. Even the hard planes set in Naima's face shift and her relentless eyes travel down to Zoya's stomach.

After what seems like ages, Ammi reaches forward slowly, placing her hand on Zoya's stomach. "Oh, Allah," she says tiredly, heaving a breath. "Oh, Allah."

Zoya takes this as an opening and staggers forward, wrapping her arms around her mother-in-law. Her sobs break out. "I'm sorry," she says, throat burning from the tears. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She cannot see their faces through the blurry tears, but she can make out the outlines of Naima and Aisha. Standing motionlessly. Watching her.

For a few moments as Zoya cries, Ammi simply stands. Then, almost helplessly, her arms come around Zoya slowly and she embraces her. The two women cry against one another. And they are a strange sight to see — the betrayer hugging the betrayed. The liar hugging the deceived. The inflictor of pain hugging the wounded.

When Zoya pulls back, rubbing her tears away, Ammi clasps one side of her face. Her eyes are filled so heavily with grief Zoya fears she may lose herself in them forever and never witness another happy day.

"Why?" the older woman cries. "Why?"

In response, Zoya simply sobs and shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She embraces her again.

Later, when the five women are standing in the living room in front of Haroun's grandparents, there is a thick tension in the air. One that promises forgiveness will not come soon and when it comes, it will not come easy. One that brings the hard planes back in Naima's face and the wrinkles back in Ammi's forehead. Only Aisha remains neutral, having not said a word since Zoya came.

Ammi asks Zoya with a saddened face whether she would like to come stay with them, but Zoya shakes her head profusely. She knows how much it costs the woman to say this despite Ammi's good heart. "I need to be home if . . . when Haroun comes back," she mumbles, earning a major scoff from Naima.

Just when Zoya and Mumtaz are leaving, Aisha approaches Zoya unsurely. She twists the cloth of her dress around her fingers. Zoya stops, eager to hear even one word from the girl's mouth. Something to testify how she must be feeling.

"Aapi . . ." Aisha starts, darting her eyes this way and that. Strong-willed, confident, bubbly Aisha, unable to look her brother's heartbreaker in the face. "Why did you do it?"

And to this, Zoya cannot give the girl an answer that will satisfy her. It grieves her, because she senses Aisha has always been the most attached to her. And Zoya has noticed this from the start, when the younger girl opted to call Zoya the more personal "aapi" rather than the formal "bhabhi." Zoya always saw the admiration in Aisha's eyes every time she spoke to her, always noticed the laughter that came easily to her when they both spoke.

Zoya has not done good to these people.

"Come on." Naima reaches for her sister's arm and pulls her back. "You're not going to get your answer."

Zoya watches them one last time before she goes, once again thinking of how much destruction she has blasted in everybody's lives.

And as for the people she has come to care about, she has destroyed them worst of all.

. . .

Zoya visits them every day after that. Naima seldom speaks to her and clenches her jaw whenever Zoya comes around. Ammi seems to be on the fence, one day watching her daughter-in-law with grieved eyes and another even managing to crack a small smile. Aisha seems to be the only one who speaks to Zoya close to normally, which earns her angry stares from her sister but she does so nevertheless. As for Haroun's grandparents, they are older and have had more experience with the cruelties of life.

So their kindness soothes Zoya.

Zoya knows it will take time for all of them to thaw out. She knows it will take weeks and months and maybe even years for them to be able to just look at her without their hearts cracking. But she knows that eventually a heart of ice melts.

She knows because this very same thing happened to her, too. And if her heart of ice was able to melt to God, what are humans?

Along with seeking redemption, Zoya decides to finally return to work.

She has not kept up with anything going on, hasn't spoken to anybody from work other than Sameer, and is sure the company is in an upheaval since her absence.

But all of this she is ready for.

What she is not ready for are the questions. The looks in the eyes of her employees when they see her. Their wariness around the old and harsh Zoya Zameer — the only Zoya Zameer they know.

So when she steps outside her car and proceeds to the door of Zameer Co's headquarters, the security guards slacking by the entrance straighten so quickly one would think there are ants up their pants.

They don't even try to hide their shock; they simply stand there with slacked jaws and eyes bugging out of their heads. They turn to each other, gesturing to Zoya mutely.

Zoya stops in front of them, eyes darting between them. She clears her throat. "Hello."

The one on the right tips his head at her and the one on the left says, "Hello, Ms. Zoya."

"How are you?"

They are quiet for a couple seconds, shocked by the uncharacteristic question. Then Left mutters, "Good, Ms. Zoya. What about — what about you?"

She nods, "Good, thank you." She waits, wondering if they will say anything else to her. But they remain silent, so she walks past them into the building.

Her eyes travel across the lobby, capturing the familiarity of it with brand new eyes. Extravagant furniture, top tier technology, signs directing people.

And, of course, the open-mouthed receptionist Sarah and the frozen employees in the center of the lobby.

"Zoya?" someone screeches, approaching her from behind. Ibitoye materializes, her face as beautiful as Zoya remembers, if not more. "Oh, my God. Zoya, where the hell have you been?" Her eyes rake over Zameer's CEO, setting last with confusion on the blue scarf loosely draped over her head.

Zoya manages to crack a smile. "Hello to you too."

"Oh, my God," Ibitoye huffs, leaning forward to wrap her arms around Zoya. Zoya embraces her back, smiling at the onlookers watching perplexedly. When Ibitoye pulls back, she says, "Do you know how worried sick we've been? No word from you for like half a year — "

"Three months."

" — whatever. We've been going crazy wondering what happened to you and . . . and trying to keep Zameer functioning."

Zoya smiles. "Looks like you've been doing an okay job."

"Barely. The first few weeks were insane. Protests, strikes, Bill and I going crazy trying to balance everything and figure out what was going on with you. Tried getting in contact with Haroun and — " Ibitoye stops, sighs as she looks at Zoya. As she really takes her in. "What happened, Zoya?"

At that moment, a shout emerges from behind them, followed by rushed footsteps. "Did somebody say Zoya damn Zameer is here?"

Everyone turns to see Bill rushing towards them. His eyes widen and he staggers a little when he stops in front of Zoya, who quirks a smile at him. She isn't surprised that only five minutes after her return, her whole company is aware of her presence. They probably have a collective group chat of sorts where they bicker and complain about her.

"Zoya damn Zameer?" she echoes amusedly. "Has a nice ring to it, I'll admit."

"Where have you been?" he says with a mix of exasperation and relief.

Zoya clamps her lips shut, eyes darting between everyone. "I will answer all of your . . . queries. But at one time. I don't want to have to say it over and over again." She takes a deep breath. "I will do it on camera. For the world to see." Zoya turns to Ibitoye. "Where's Sameer?"

"He's with Lucas and the rest of PR on the fourth floor."

"Can you ask him to arrange a meeting room for me? And direct everyone there, please."

Ibitoye nods and disappears into the elevator, taking one last look at Zoya as if to make sure she's still there and still real.

Bill watches her closely and Zoya almost flinches under his gaze. But he merely gestures to her simple white dress and plain blue scarf. "New look?"

She tugs at some flyaway curls uncomfortably. "You could say that."