Chapter 10, the twins 2
Unedited
Thursday Morning – The Salehs' House
The celebration was in full swing at the Salehs' mansion that Thursday morning. Family, friends, and relatives had all gathered, lending helping hands and contributing to the excitement in the air.
There wasn't much planned aside from the wedding Fatiha, yet the entire house buzzed with energy. Initially, Salim and Halima had wanted the wedding to be a private affair with only a handful of close invitees. But just yesterday, Mrs. Amira had kept pressuring them to include a small walima so that her family could attend. Her relatives had been insisting on being part of their child's wedding, and it took the whole of yesterday for her to convince the couple.
Even though everyone knew it was a very late announcement—one that could annoy many—Mrs. Amira went ahead regardless. She had one mission, and she was determined to make it work, in sha Allah. Thankfully, Salim and Halima finally agreed to the idea.
Everyone involved in the wedding had been married before—Halima already had a three-year-old daughter, Sabira, and Salim had a eight-year-old son, Kasim. His late wife, Fatima, had passed away just three months earlier. It was she who had constantly stood in the way of his marriage to Zima.
Fatima had been powerful, manipulative, and determined to keep Salim and Zima apart. Only after her passing did Salim finally find peace and the courage to move forward with his life.
Though life had been tense under Fatima's control, her absence brought a strange calm. Salim's family—especially Mrs. Amira's children, Halima and Salim—were eager to see the marriage finally happen. They simply wanted it done and dusted. But Mrs. Amira had other plans. She insisted that at least one proper occasion—a walima—be held to celebrate with family and friends. Given their status and means, everyone eventually agreed.
Now, the end was in sight. By tomorrow, Salim and Zima would officially be husband and wife.
By 9 a.m., the mansion was already bustling with activity. Zima and Mukhtar had just returned from the market, along with Salim and Halima. They had all left early in the morning and returned sooner than expected due to the preparations scheduled for the afternoon gathering.
The mansion continued to grow fuller by the hour. Since the day before, relatives had been arriving nonstop. The house was getting tighter, noisier, and more crowded. Though Salim and Halima weren't particularly fond of the chaos, they knew they had no choice—they had to go with it.
Afterward, everyone got back to being busy as soon as they returned home. Asna, Sabira, and Kasim—ages 3, 3, and 8—rushed toward them with excitement.
"Have you all eaten?" Zima asked.
"No," Kasim replied, while Asna and Sabira simply shook their heads.
"Come, let me make you something," Zima offered, already turning to leave when Halima's voice stopped her.
"Where do you think you're going?" Halima asked sharply. "Let their nanny take care of them. We still have a lot to do—you know that, right?"
"Yes, don't worry. It won't take long," Zima replied casually and walked off, ignoring Halima's complaints.
She headed to the kitchen to make noodles for the kids, but as she entered, she noticed someone else already there doing the same thing. The woman was dressed in a black abaya, with a niqab and glasses, and a small child was seated quietly on a chair behind her as she spoke while cooking.
"You know, Afna," the woman said, "I think I shouldn't have brought you here. I should've taken you to school instead. You're already stressing me," she muttered in frustration.
Zima stood silently for a second before speaking. "Afna?" she asked curiously, her eyes settling on the child—who, to her surprise, was dressed like a boy.
The woman froze for a moment, realizing she had been overheard. She had dressed Afna up as a boy, intending to call her Arfan to avoid questions—but now, her slip-up had already begun to unravel.
"Did you need anything, Za—Zima?" the woman quickly corrected herself, catching the near mistake of saying "Zara" instead.
Zima gave her a soft smile. "No, don't worry about it. I just came to make something for these three," she said, referring to Asna, Sabira, and Kasim.
"Masha Allah, are they your children?" the woman—Zainab—asked, turning to look at them. Among all three, it was Asna who caught her attention most—she resembled Zara so much, it was almost startling.
Zainab playfully scooped Asna into her arms, admiring her with a warm smile before gently setting her down and returning to her cooking.
After Zima mentioned she had come to prepare something for the kids, Zainab offered kindly, "I think you should rest—I'll handle it."
Zainab ended up cooking for all of them. Soon, the four children and the two women were gathered at the dining table, eating together and chatting casually.
"I'm from your mother's side of the family," Zainab told them with a gentle smile. "You can call me Saliha."
Turning to Zima, she asked, "So, you're the bride today. Will you need help with anything?"
Zima smiled faintly. "For now, I'm not sure. But I think we can handle it—we've got workers."
"Well, if you say so. But you can take me as a friend. If you ever need someone to talk to or need support, you can reach out," Zainab offered warmly.
After the meal, the two women left the dining area together. Zainab had wanted to ask Zara—Zima—about Mubarak's (Mukhtar's) room, but Mrs. Amira had given her different instructions.
"Focus on anything that could help with your sister and husband's memory loss," Mrs. Amira had told her. She suspected the answers lay in Halima and Salim's room, specifically in a safe they kept locked and closely guarded. Apparently, they even traveled with it, and no one was ever allowed inside that room that easily unless they are around.
Mrs. Amira had arranged that evening's function to create a distraction, giving Zainab and Lukman a better chance to sneak into the room. The plan was risky. The only thing they knew for sure was that there was a safe—and it might hold the truth behind the strange memory loss affecting Zara and Mubarak.
Despite Mrs. Amira's attempts over the years—trying various methods—nothing had helped. The reason behind their amnesia remained a mystery. She believed the cause could be a drug, a ritual, or something else.
Zainab now felt the full weight of the situation. The pressure was immense, and the secrecy even more so. Mrs. Amira had strictly warned both Zainab and Lukman to hide their true identities at all costs. For now, Zainab had to play her role carefully, waiting for the perfect chance to strike.
Zainab playfully scooped Asna into her arms, admiring her with a warm smile before gently setting her down and returning to her cooking.
After Zima mentioned she had come to prepare something for the kids, Zainab offered kindly, "I think you should rest—I'll handle it."
In the end, Zainab cooked for all of them. Soon, the four children and the two women were gathered at the dining table, eating together and chatting casually.
"I'm from your mother's side of the family," Zainab told Zima with a gentle smile. "You can call me Saliha."
They chatted a lot, even though Zainab knew Mrs. Amira had warned her to avoid getting too close to either Zima—Zara—or Mubarak—Mukhtar.
They talked about life, school, and how Zima was now leaving. Zima shared details about Asna's birth and so much more. And for the first time in a long while, Zainab realized just how much she had missed her twin sister Zara.
From their conversation, Zainab discovered that Zima had finished a degree in Computer Engineering. That surprised her—because they were originally studying Computer Science. Even Zara hadn't known what she had eventually graduated in, but Zainab did.
Zainab also told her about Afna.
After the meal, Zainab had intended to check Halima's side of the house—her original plan was to look for her target. But Afna had insisted on eating something else.
"If you have nothing to do, please come with me. I really need a friend today," Zima had said softly.
"Really? Okay, let's go," Zainab responded.
The two women left the dining area together. Zainab had wanted to ask Zima—Zara—about Mubarak (Mukhtar), maybe to find out where he was, but Mrs. Amira had given her very clear instructions: stay away from both of them, especially Mubarak.
"Focus on anything that could help with your sister and her husband's memory loss," Mrs. Amira had told her.
She believed the answers might lie in Halima and Salim's room—specifically, in a heavily guarded safe they always kept locked. Rumor had it they even traveled with it. No one was ever allowed inside that room.
That evening's event had been planned by Mrs. Amira to serve as a distraction, giving Zainab and Lukman the chance to sneak into the room. It was a risky plan, but it was the only lead they had. The only certainty was the existence of the safe—and possibly the truth hidden inside it.
Over the years, despite trying every method—rituals, medicine, therapy—nothing had worked. The cause of Zara and Mubarak's amnesia remained unknown. Mrs. Amira suspected it was induced—maybe a drug, a ritual… or something far worse.
Zainab now felt the full weight of it all. The secrecy, the stakes—it was suffocating. Mrs. Amira had strictly instructed both her and Lukman to keep their real identities hidden, no matter what.
For now, Zainab had to play her role and wait for the perfect moment to act.
She didn't do much afterward—just chatted with Zima while helping her get dressed.
"I think you should wear something nice too," Zima suggested with a soft smile.
"No, no… I like my face covered," Zainab said quickly, a hint of panic in her voice.
"No worries. We'll still cover our faces," Zima replied, bringing out a soft blue lifaya and gently helping Zainab wear it.
Still, Zainab made sure Zima didn't see her face. She adjusted her big glasses over the veil—just in case it shifted, only very few would be able to recognize her.
Zainab was applying light makeup on Zima when Halima suddenly entered. Zainab quickly adjusted her lifaya and glasses, pretending to be calm.
"The henna artist is here," Halima announced.
Just as she was about to leave, Halima paused, turned back to Zima, and glanced at Zainab.
"Who is your friend here? Do I know you?" Halima asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"No, I'm Saliha. Mrs. Amira's second cousin's daughter," Zainab replied smoothly, lying without blinking.
Halima studied her face for a few seconds before finally leaving.
Zainab let out a quiet breath, thinking she was in the clear. But before she could step away, Zima gently grabbed her hand.
"Come on, let's get our henna done."
Zainab hesitated.
"Don't you have a husband? I'm sure he'd love it," Zima teased lightly.
Zainab gave a nervous smile and allowed herself to be pulled along. But in her mind, she couldn't help but think—Zima was unknowingly pulling her further away from her original plan.
Zima not only dragged Zainab along to the henna session but also insisted she apply some herself. "Just a small design," she said playfully, selecting a delicate, elegant pattern for Zainab.
Zima, being the bride, had her hands adorned in a fuller, more elaborate henna design. It suited her beauty perfectly, making her look every bit the glowing bride. Zainab, meanwhile, was anxious, her only hope being that her veil would stay firmly in place. Halima was also around, getting her henna done—she was the another bride of the day.
As soon as her henna dried, Zainab quietly excused herself, noting that Zima's hands were still being worked on. She slipped out carefully, trying not to draw attention.
First, she went to check on the children and found them laughing and playing under the watch of a nanny. Then, she made her way to the room Mrs. Amira had assigned to her. She wasn't entirely sure it was the right one, but she entered anyway, heading to the bathroom to wash off the henna residue.
As she stepped out of the bathroom, intending to leave, the door opened.
Startled, she slipped—but before she hit the floor, someone caught her.
Her veil shifted during the fall, revealing her face.
Eye to eye with him.
Mukhtar—Mubarak.
He froze. For a moment, time seemed to pause. His arms dropped, and he quickly looked away, eyes wide with surprise, almost as if looking at her too long might drown him in something unfamiliar yet painfully familiar.
"Astagfirullah," he murmured, visibly shaken. "Be careful next time."
He tried to compose himself. "And... what are you doing in my room?"
Zainab couldn't answer. She just stood there, trembling, tears brimming in her eyes. His gaze lifted again—just briefly—as if trying to place the emotion rising inside him.
"Do I... know you?" he asked, voice softer now, unsure.
That's when Zainab remembered—Mrs. Amira's strict warning. She had promised to stay far away from Mubarak. To avoid dragging Halima's attention.
"No... no," she whispered, backing away, heart pounding.
She turned and hurried out of the room before her cover was blown.
"Hey! Wait—Miss!" he called after her.
But she was already gone.
He stood there for a while, confused, glancing around the room as if trying to collect his thoughts. Then, with a deep breath, he reminded himself to focus on the preparations for his wedding.
Zainab made her way to Halima's room, knowing she was still getting her henna done and hoping to take advantage of her absence.
But the door was locked.
She quickly pulled out her phone and dialed Mrs. Amira.
"Hello ma," she whispered, glancing around. "The room is locked."
Mrs. Amira didn't sound surprised. "I thought as much. We'll have to look for the spare keys."
Zainab rushed to the workers, who handed her the keys. She and Mrs. Amira were just a few steps away from Halima's door when they saw her ahead, unlocking it herself and stepping inside.
Zainab clenched her jaw, blinking hard against the sting of frustration.
Calm down, Zainab. Insha Allah, all will be found.
"You still have till tonight," Mrs. Amira said gently, cupping Zainab's face with a comforting hand.
Zainab gave a tight nod.
They turned and made their way to Salim's room in search of Lukman.
He was seated casually on the bed, typing away on his laptop. The door was barely shut. Compared to Zainab's full disguise, all Lukman had done was shave his beard and wear glasses—a suggestion they had to push him into.
"What are you doing here like this?" Mrs. Amira snapped, clearly unimpressed. "I didn't send you here to rest! I told you to check the safe. And you didn't even close the door!"
"Lukman, please," Zainab added urgently. "What if someone sees you? What if we get caught?"
He didn't respond. His fingers moved rapidly over the keyboard, eyes fixed on the screen. Zainab stepped closer—he was writing a code.
Her gaze shifted to the drawer. The safe was already open.
Automated, she thought.
Still silent, Lukman typed one last command and hit Enter.
"Done," he muttered, snapping the laptop shut and rising to his feet.
He opened the safe.
Empty.
Completely bare.
With a sharp exhale, he slammed the drawer shut in frustration.
Mrs. Amira and Zainab stood frozen, watching him in silence.
If it's not here, each of them lost in their own thoughts, then it must be in Halima's room. And if it's not there… then what else is left?
By evening, everyone was ready for the ceremony—the perfect moment Zainab and Lukman had been waiting for to strike.
Zara looked stunning in a beautiful bridal gown, her outfit perfectly matching Salim's. They both looked radiant, just like Mubarak and Halima, who were dressed in coordinating shades of blue.
Music, food, drinks, and dances filled the air as the wedding celebration continued outside.
From the upstairs balcony, Zainab couldn't help but notice Halima flirting with Mubarak down on the wedding grounds. Though Mubarak offered her only polite smiles and a listening ear, it still made Zainab's blood boil. This Mubarak, she thought with a jealous frown, he's really going to face me once he regains his memory.
She hurried to find Lukman, catching him just as he was unlocking Halima's bedroom door. Once it clicked open, they stepped inside together.
They searched everywhere—even her drawers—but found nothing. Just as they were about to leave, Lukman suddenly paused.
"Wait... I think I remember something," he told Zainab, and she followed him toward the dressing area.
They tried to open the locked drawer there, but it wouldn't budge. Lukman picked up a heavy object nearby and forced it open. Inside was a hidden compartment—and in it, a secure safe.
"I think this one has extra security too," Lukman said, frowning.
"What should we do now?" Zainab asked, clearly worried.
Without answering, he rushed out and returned with his laptop. He worked silently for several minutes, the tension thick in the air. Finally, he muttered, "Done."
He moved quickly to open the safe, but Zainab stopped him, stepping in front of it.
"Please, Lukman... let's pray first. Let's pray it's in here. Because if it's not, does that mean we'll lose Zara and Mubarak to them?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Insha Allah, it's there," Lukman replied. "And besides, if you wanted to pray, you should've done that long before now," he added with a hint of frustration.
"I'm just scared," Zainab whispered as she moved aside.
They opened the safe—and froze.