the grateful stepmother

I sat quietly at the window seat, watching the train pass through the tunnel, my view changing before my eyes every few seconds. My gaze is drawn to the naked trees, which reflect and remind me of my state of being empty and lonely. I lean back in my seat and take a deep sigh. I closed my eyes, flashes of memories came flooding back to me of when I first moved to this country, joining high school, watching my siblings grow and mum and dad being together. now I’m twenty and in my second year of university, next year I will graduate with a bachelor’s in psychology. I'm astounded at how far I've come; my life has been moving at a breakneck pace, yet amid the bustle of growing up, I feel like I've lost myself somewhere. my phone buzzed in my pocket breaking my thoughts and bringing me back to reality. I checked and saw Priya’s missed call. she probably reached the café and was waiting for me. I quickly checked the stops and texted. After two stops I arrived at my destination and hurried my way up before making Priya wait for any longer.

Priya was waiting outside the café, dressed in a puffer jacket, crystal hoops, and high ponytail. Her brown eyes glowed up with excitement insight of seeing me, but there was a mix of emotions on her face she looked like she was about to burst into tears and laughter at the same time. We hugged each other and entered the café. she was biting her lips and shaking her leg, not knowing how to begin. I held her hand and told her to calm down, a state of relief appeared on her face. She told me how great things were going between her boyfriend and her parents, but things quickly escalated, and they began fighting again. She spoke without stuttering or taking a deep breath, venting about her boyfriend before moving on to her parents, changing the subject from one end to the other. I sat there, listening carefully as if I'd never heard those words before. I let her vent and speak until she felt better and relaxed, as is usual. She later thanked me for always being there for her, and I shrugged it off, saying that's what friends are for. She also reminded me that if I ever needed her, I should open up to her because she will always be there to listen. There was a point when I wanted to open out to her and vent and complain about my stepmother Sabrina. However, there isn't anything to complain against. She is a wonderful mother to my siblings, a wonderful wife, and most importantly, I would not have made it to university if it weren't for her. When I checked the time, it was past 8, I didn't realize it was dark outside because time had flown by so quickly. I let out a loud gasp and hurriedly bid goodbye to Priya before returning to the train station to catch the first train.

From the bustling bus stop, I took my first bus. I stood on the crowded bus while my whole body was aching from exhaustion. When the bus arrived at my stop, it made a loud creaking noise and emitted smoke into the cold air. I made my way through the busy crowd to reach the door before it could shut. I hurriedly checked the time on my phone and thankfully it wasn't yet 10 p.m., so I could get home before Dad get back from work. When I arrived at home, I saw the driveway occupied with a car that belonged to aunty Aneesa. She is a family friend who helped us a lot when we first arrived in the UK. She is also the one who introduced Sabrina to us and convinced dad to marry her since he needed a partner and his children a caring mother. At that time, Sabrina was a young widowed with a great deal of experience. I heard a muttering conversation from the other side as I took out my keys to open the door, and the door opened to reveal aunty Aneesa and Sabrina standing beside each other. Aunty Aneesa looked prepared to leave but stopped and said excitedly "hey Mariyah, how are you doing? It's been a long time I hardly see you these days." I returned her greeting, we spoke for a few minutes, and as we said our goodbyes, she said, "Take care of your mother," a pleasant reminder for me to be grateful for having such a wonderful stepmother. I closed the door turn around and find Sabrina waiting for me with a questioned face. She was dressed in a blushing pink shalwar kameez with green embroidery, her hair closed half opened, very similar to the first time I saw her except she was pale and extremely skinny. now she has gained a little weight that makes her look healthier. She still looks considerably younger than her actual age; someone could easily mistake her for my older sister than my stepmother.

Sabrina was born in the United Kingdom to a religiously conservative Pakistani family. When she was in her early teens, her family returned to Pakistan to raise her in a more traditional environment. She was married at a young age to an abusive household. After many years of attempts and miscarriages, she finally gave birth to a son, this was probably the only happy moment of her marriage until her son died as an infant and later her husband died in the same year. As tragic as this sounds, things only got worse when she moved in with her brothers and their wives, making her life even more miserable until she couldn’t take it anymore and somehow managed to escape here with the help of a friend. She hasn't returned since then as she was accused of having an affair with someone she fled to. her brothers believed she had Brought shame to their family, to which her brothers were ready to kill her. This is how aunty Aneesa told me the story. She advised me to be careful with her since she is mentally unstable, and no one could understand her better than me. she said we would make a perfect family if we tried to maintain a positive relationship, I thought the same, but I was wrong.

*

I entered the house and walked past Sabrina ignoring her existence completely. I entered the kitchen, which smelled like a mix of different dishes, and the counter piled high with trays of tea and pastries. She had invited her friends over and aunty Aneesa most likely stayed until late so they could talk privately like they often do. I got a plate out to serve myself some food, in meantime, I heard Sabrina's footsteps approaching the kitchen.

"What's the matter, you're late again?" She stood behind me, her voice dissatisfied.

"I had a late class," I said, oblivious to her.

"You know your father doesn't like it when you come home late?"

"Dad hasn't arrived yet, so it's not that late?" We haven't been on speaking terms since the beginning of the week. I could sense an argument arising.

"Well, if you stop spending so much time with your friends, perhaps it will help you arrive home on time," she said gently.

"Thanks for the recommendations," I remarked sarcastically, "but you don't have to worry about me, proving your greatness to dad”.

"your father leaves the house duty on my behalf, that includes checking on you." Her tone became a little more aggressive. “The only reason I care about you is because of your father, if you weren't so stubborn and disrespectful and were more like your sisters, you would make everyone's life easy in this house.'

I , turned around, and yelled, “well if you want to make everyone’s life easy why don’t you see a goddam therapist”

" disrespectful, immature girl, " she yelled.

"what is bothering you again? has dad stopped paying attention to you, do you want to take it out on me now?" I yelled as well.

"whats the mattar with you?"

"whats the matter with You" i screamed.

We began yelling and arguing until she ran out of things to say; she eventually stopped, but I wasn't done. I let out all of the frustrations that I had kept within me and erupted like a volcano, and she became the usual target. she stood there hopelessly, I could sense she was having an anxiety attack; her face had turned completely red, her eyes were filled with tears, and her body was shivering. I walked out of the kitchen as soon as I was done, leaving her alone in the cold.

I rushed up to my room and slammed the door as hard as possible. As soon as I entered my room, the tears started falling out. I lay in my bed, tears streamed down my face as I closed my eyes. I imagined old times, I'm back home in our old house, with mum, Husna, and Zahra. Just like it was 8 years ago. it's a bright sunny morning Husna is still eight and struggling to put on her red uniform, and Zahra is still a toddler resting on mum's bed. mum is brushing my hair and I can hear the jingling sound of her gold bangles clashing with each other. Her fingertips brush across the side of my cheeks as she splits my hair for a plat. I recall those tiny conversations we used to have in between those moments and cannot help but smile. Recalling those memories calms my soul, but than i get shattered when I realize those times are gone and I can only imagine them in my mind.

*

I opened my eyes and thought Sabrina could never replace mum; she is not even close to her. Mum cared for us because she loved us, Sabrina shows concern only for Dad, to get his appreciation and attention. It gives her the reputation of being a fantastic stepmother in the community, and the brown aunties are always complimenting her efforts. She loves being the centre of attention. Her attachment to Dad is the reason for our conflicts. She was so possessive of dad, she would overwork herself and act compassionate towards us, but that would change as soon as dad would leave. I was the only one who could see her true face. The only person she genuinely cared about was Ibrahim. She treated him like her own son, perhaps she saw her son in him. they both are very close. I just saw him as the cause of my mother's death, and I wished he had never been born so that she might still be with us. I was envious of dad's care and affection towards her especially at the beginning when she used have sleep terrors. I felt like she used to fake them as she would get anxious and refuse to see a psychiatrist whenever dad requested. sometimes, she never liked dad paying attention to us or showing concern for us. she would get jelouse, but it was the same with me when dad used to pay more attention to her; i used to think he had forgotten about mum completely. I feel bad about it now because it also gave Dad a hard time, he used to try so hard to make us both happy but constantly fell short.

*

Regardless of everything, the feeling of guilt started taking over my body. Sabrina always became the target of my frustration. its her fault for starting the fight, but I know it doesn’t justify how I treat her. After all, she has gone through a lot in her life. Perhaps the grief of losing a child is equivalent to that of losing a mother, and no one understands this pain more than I do. She has always been looked down upon and has never received appreactation from her husband or anyone else. Her approach of making herself feel better is to seek validation from others. Aside from that she is mentally unstable, she has almost every disorder that i have studied in psychology. sometimes, i feel like i am the one causing the problem, myabe becasue i still can get over our past conflicts. Now, She has become much better and has formed strong bonds with everyone else. My sister Hosna is happy with her, she has always appreciated her efforts. they have a great bond. Every time I would complain to her about Sabrina she would bring up Aunty Shagufta; dad brother wife and as a reminder to be grateful. she makes Sabrina look like an angel. Aunty Shagufta was always envious of mum and would do everything she could to bring her down. After mum died, we had to stay with her for six months before moving to the UK. It was awful, and remembering those events still makes me sick to my stomach. I do appreciate Sabrina at times because of her. Both of us have tried to make things right between us in the past. we have tried to maintain a positive relationship so many times, but it would only last a short time before we gave up. Although We are distanced like the sky and the earth in that we could both understand each other the best. We'd each lost someone we cared about. That's why, whenever we hurt each other, we always felt guilty. Our bond does not stay the same throughout the year; it shifts with the seasons. I felt sorry for her at times, and I truly appreciated her, and at other times, I envied her to which I blamed her for making me feel this way.

*

My alarm buzzed at 10 am. It was Saturday morning I quickly got up to fresh up and not to miss breakfast with dad. I come downstairs to find Sabrina has already set the table and filled it with food. Sabrina was serving food and pouring hot tea into everyone's cup as everyone sat down at the table. I hugged Dad and sat on his left side, while Sabrina sat on his right side, across from me. We both smiled and looked into each other's eyes as if nothing had happened the night before. We didn't want Dad to find out since we didn't want to disturb him. Everyone's plate was full except mine, so Sabrina quickly leaned in to place the egg on my plate; I thanked her and smiled. the guilt from last night had washed away all the hatred from our hearts Even though we never had a mother-daughter relationship, we had a sisterly bond. No matter how much we fought or despised each other, we always had a soft spot for each other. After a few minutes, dad put down his fork and stated, "I've made up my mind, we're all going back home this Easter and spending the holiday in Pakistan," to which everyone applauded. I looked at dad with delight, then at Sabrina, who didn't seem pleased. I knew exactly what she was going to say next. Because of her, we hadn't been back home since we arrived in this country. She was always terrified that her brothers would find out about her arrival and come after her to kill her, perhaps dad as well assuming him her lover. I quickly stopped her and said, "please don't say anything. It's been 8 years, I'd like to go. I have to go because I want to visit mum's grave. This time don't try to stop us. I've always kept my mouth shut, but I'm not going to anymore” "But, it is not safe-" "YES, it is," I swiftly cut her off “It's been a decade since you escaped. No one will remember you. Even if they do they would never know where you are” “Yeah but-“ I interrupted her again and vent on to say “your family lives in the south of the country. we are going to go to the north. we are littelry on the other side.they will never find out. You are just overthinking it and stressing , it’ll be fine. i promise ” Dad interrupted her when she tried to say something else. He turned to Sabrina and asked me to calm down. "She's correct, Sabrina," he remarked, putting his hand on hers and saying, "no one will know we're heading there. there is no way they will find you. i don't even think They will remember you, you have to be brave and handle whatever comes your way because You haven't done anything wrong. I always shied away from their requests to return home. They miss their mother and have every right to at least pay a visit to her grave." She couldn't say anything, so she gently nodded her head. I was overjoyed hugged my father and raced upstairs to my room with joy.

*

I was still thinking about Dad's announcement from two days ago as I sat on the train. I'm thrilled with excitement, and I can't stop thinking about what I'll do and where I'll go. Sabrina has remained silent since then, and she hasn't said much. I feel sorry for her; she's probabaly overthinking things. I'm going to speak to her straight away as soon as i get home.

*

I entered the house, but it seemed like no one was home. I went to the kitchen to look for her but couldn't find her. I found my way into her room. Her room was clean and orderly. Everything in the room was white and grey. It felt strange entering her room after such a long time. My attention was drawn to the photo frames above the chest of drawers as I looked around. It was photos of Ibrahim and dad taken on his birthday. It recalled me of a pleasant experience. I opened the drawer to find the rest of our photos from that day. My gaze was drawn to a notebook that had picture of barn owl on the cover. I recall taking that picture and i sticking to the notebook cover bit i never used that. Now that I think about it, I remember handing this notebook to Sabrina after she had an emotional breakdown. it was our little interaction. I advised her to see a therapist, but she declined because she didn't want to be labelled a lunatic, so I offered her the notebook and told her that writing down her feelings might help her feel better. I didn't believe she'd use it in the first place. I took out the notebook; it felt wrong to open her journal without her permission, but I figured that it would help me better understand her and i could help her a little bit. I began by turning to the first page. She wrote about Ibrahim's birthday, and it was all about how much fun they had together and how much she adored him. I read the following pages to see what had been written about me. She vented her rage and voiced fears for me. It made me a little uneasy about her, but I moved on. The next few pages were filled with expressing her regret after what looked like we fought. I continued to read all of the pages. Some of the pages were left blank. The words were completely hidden by scribbles on the page. The next page was the same. She appeared to be hiding something. I kept turning the pages until I came across something unexpected.

She wrote about her husband. the writing had turned very messy and appeared to have been forced to write it. she has never uttered anything about her husband or her past life since we have known her. It's the first time i seen her talking about him. She's written about how he mistreated her. I felt terrible for her. I could tell she was having trouble recalling those memories in her writing. She began to speak about the thrashings. She writes of his extramarital affairs and how he didn't bother when she was delivering. I'm disgusted by him and wonder what kind of human he was. She refers to her child as "my baby, my child" when she talks about his loss. As I went to read about her husband's irresponsibility with the infant, my heart broke for her, but also blazed with rage. I can feel my heart aching for the infant as I read on. I came to a halt, took a big breath, and wiped away my tears. "It's all her husband's fault; if he had rushed the baby to the hospital and given him better care, he would still be alive today. "Her husband deserved to die, she should've just killed him," I signed with anger in my thoughts.

Then I read something that made my jaw drop. My heart began to beat faster. I turned the page as shivers ran down my spine. i stopped, I could feel my heart racing. i started to read again , and I had to grip the noteboke tightly to read the words. I attempted to read till I couldn't any longer and then just dropped  the notebook. I was in a state of shock and disbelief, questioning everything. Did she kill her husband? Do they know she has murdered him? Was the honour killing, love affair everything was made up? Does aunty Aneesa know about this? Wait does this mean we are not going back on holiday? So many questions were running through my head right now, but everything started making senses, her night terrors, why she always refused to go therapy and most importantly our relationship. I have always blamed myself for our complicated relationship and felt guilty for making her feel this way but maybe it was not me but her all this time. I heard the door open, footsteps approaching, and Sabrina entered the room. She was surprised to find me in her room and before she could ask me what I was doing in her room, she looked at at the notebook on the ground She looked back up and our eyes locked. the room was filled with cold and dead silence.