Closure
The burning heat of Cairo used to relax Zahra Okasha but now it only held bad memories. While the house that she and Marc once own had a range of moments that she valued, that life was gone. Just another step in the road.
Strangely enough, packing it all away didn't feel so bad.
"I liked when you had your hair this long," Marc commented as he picked up their wedding pictures.
"Try taming it. I think I'll pass," Zahra smiled, placing the picture of her and her father into the box. "Not practical."
"We don't have any pictures together!" Omari complained as he joined the two, "You and Layla have more than ten in this house! Where are mine?"
"Omari, we've never had time to take pictures!" Zahra laughed, "Layla and I have grown up together."
"Not fair," Omari crossed his hand, "Layla, tell her it's not fair."
"Sorry, I can't do that, Mari," Layla smiled, kissing Omari's cheek.
Zahra gave them a smirk.
"Are you sure you want to leave for good?" Omari questioned. "That's a big thing to say you never want to come back."
"I can't deal with this place," Zahra replied. "I know I never want to step foot in Cairo on my grounds but it's beginning to feel like I never want to come back to Egypt. I'm done."
"She's coming to London!" Steven added in an excited voice.
"We'd think it would be funny if I tried to get a job at Steven's old place, as a tour guide," Zahra nodded. "They just love hearing that we're married—"
"To Marc," Steven shrugged.
"To the both of you at this point," Zahra corrected, "Besides, you two are going to visit, right Layla?"
"Of course, we will," Layla launched into a hug with Zahra, "You're not leaving us, just here."
"I know," Zahra mumbled. "But you just got me back, the real me."
"You've always been the real you," Layla replied, gripping her shoulder, "You just needed to find yourself a bit."
"Anyway," Omari whistled. "Is Nephthys around?"
"Afraid not," Zahra shook her head. "She's placed me on strict 'Zahra timeout' at the moment. I have something to handle before I 'go back to work'."
Nephthys had been kind enough to suggest Zahra stay away from the lifestyle for a few days or even weeks if she wanted to. Zahra graciously accepted the offer to sort her life out.
Even as she stood outside the house where she knew her mother was living, Zahra knew that she was never going back to Cairo.
"We don't have to do this," said Steven, having taken control on the way to the house, "Your mum doesn't get to have a say in what you do."
"Steven, I'm not looking for her to give her opinion," Zahra replied lightly. "It's more of a 'goodbye' thing. I don't want to come back here and I need this."
"Okay," Steven replied, "You do want to stay with us right? You're not just, y'know, staying with us because you have to."
"Of course not," Zahra smiled, patting his arm," You promised to get me a goldfish, remember? One for each of us."
"And you want to name it bubble," Steven added with a grin.
Zahra nodded as her hands began to shake, her heart racing and her throat going dry. A few weeks ago, this moment wouldn't have crossed her mind; she didn't even know who her mother was. Now, she feared everything that would be said to her.
"I'm not sure about this," Marc's voice sounded, "Z, you're shaking."
Zahra ignored him and knocked on the door. Within a few seconds, the woman that Zahra knew to be her mother appeared, looking no older than sixty. Then again, Zahra's mother had been young when she was born, so it wasn't a surprise to her.
"Hello," Zahra spoke carefully, "I'm not if you remember me considering the last time I saw you was
"I'm not an idiot, I know who you are," said Zahra's mother in Arabic.
Refusing the speak English was her way of telling Marc that she didn't want him around. Sadly for her, Marc knew Arabic too.
Zahra was surprised Marc offered to be with her, wondering if he would struggle with being the person that killed the woman's husband. Marc explained that he knew what Zahra's mother was like and needed to be with her.
"Can we come in?" Marc questioned smoothly.
"If you must," The woman replied, moving out of the way.
Zahra glared at her on the way in as she gripped Marc's arm. She knew that Steven would stay out of the moment because he didn't understand much about it; he was more likely to check in on Zahra when Marc didn't.
"This is Marc," Zahra spoke, "My husband."
"The American," Her mother spoke rudely.
"The American," Marc replied. "Though, I have spent enough time in Egypt to be—"
"Why have you come back, Zahra?"
Zahra bit her tongue with the incline to sneer at her mother but somehow restrained from doing so.
"I'm never returning to Egypt. The most I'd be here for is a few hours if I needed to be but I'm going to live in England," Zahra replied. "I've had a few incredibly enlightening months and I've come to realize that I have always been able to live without you and nothing had changed."
Zahra let go of Marc's arm and she took a step closer to her mother.
"The difference is that I don't feel the guilt anymore," Zahra continued, "I have been stabbed, shot, chased down and I died for some time and you didn't even notice I was gone."
"You were the one who left, Zahra."
"Yeah, I guess that's my new style," Zahra rubbed her nose, "I consider myself a good judge of character and what you did to me as a child was never fair but it made me who I am. Have a nice life, Mama, because I sure as hell will."
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
The wind blew with a whistle through the London apartment window. The noise of cars could be heard from below but the people living there didn't let it bother them at all. Despite the change from the heat of the Egyptian sun, the atmosphere of London was slightly calming after what they had been through.
Zahra Okasha lay curled up to her husband, snoring softly. It was something that had never changed since Zahra and Marc had gotten married. With his arm around her shoulders when he woke up, Marc was careful not to wake up his wife.
"Steven? You there?" Marc questioned.
"Mmm." Steven replied."Can't believe it worked."
"I can't believe you let our wife live in this fricking mess," Marc grumbled as he shuffled to the end of the bed.
A loud crash and groan came from the floor as his body collided with the wood, faceplanting it completely. The chain from the ankle restraint had kept them from moving.
"Marc? Steven?" Zahra grumbled, peering over the edge of the bed.
She couldn't help but begin laughing as she climbed off the bed. She soon realised it was Marc by the way he glared at her. Not to mention, she was able to quickly who it was by simply taking in the feeling of their soul, something Nephthys had taught her to do.
"Here," She untied him. "I still don't understand why you wear that thing when you know it does nothing."
Zahra kissed Marc on the cheek.
"Who wants breakfast?"