THE UNLOVED WIFE

49. THE GREATEST BLESSING

Bismillah.

49. The Greatest Blessing

Zai's POV

"The greatest of all blessings is not to be loved by another human being. The greatest of all blessings is when the weak fragile heart strengthens its own self by remembering WHO is ALLAH."

I finished writing the last line of my book and felt the hairs on my body stand up. My eyes were a little teary – eyed. I got a tissue and wipe my eyes as well as my nose.

It's finally done, after 20 months of writing, I am now ready to have my book published. The Unloved Wife has been gaining previews reviews and positive comments online across the globe. My handler, Jaja or Zainab Jamaeca has been the one leading the advertisement. I got my phone and hurriedly texted her. As I was typing my message, I smile at the thought of how we patched things up exactly 20 months ago.

FLASHBACK

I was holding the grocery cart when somebody bumped it behind me. I turn around and saw a niqabi woman.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice sounding familiar.

"It's okay Ukhtie," I told her with a smile.

I got the carton milk and placed it on the cart and was about to walk away when her hand stopped my arm.

"It's me Zai. Zainab Jamaeca. Can we have a tea somewhere after here?" she asked kindly.

I gazed into her eyes and felt her sincerity. I gave her another smile.

"Sure," I answered.

As we push our carts towards the cashier, I remember my late husband's sweet thoughtful big surprise of giving me little cards of sweet words, utilizing the employee at the same grocery store we are now. How he smiled at me and reminded me that he is marrying me because he loves me and he wants me and not because of the other Zainab. I was not a cover up nor a rebound woman for him. Amir did not use me to forget her. He loved me. He loved me. My heart felt the familiar longing and I did my best to brush it aside and focus on the present.

"I sent you a friend request," she said.

"Oh, I haven't been online for months now," I answered apologetically.

"I've been reading your blog though. You should write a book," she suggested.

We were now lining up at cashier 4.

"I've already started writing the first two chapters," I shared to her.

I did not expect to be at ease sharing that secret to her. Only my Mom is the one who knows how I spent my days and nights writing.

"Wow, can I read please?" she pleaded.

Her voice had a touch of wonder and amazement in it. I looked at her and realized how my marriage started and almost ended because of her. She was a critical part of it all, he, Aaron and as well as her husband Lemuel. Maybe that's the reason why I am comfortable telling her about the book.

"Maybe I could," I simply told her.

After we bought paid our groceries, we headed to Sitti's Bakeshop. As we sat there and enjoyed the silence, I reassessed my heart. No more resentment for this niqabi woman. None whatsoever ill feelings. Alhamdulillah.

"I am actually pregnant," she announced.

"Wow! Alhamdulillah," I congratulated her.

"Kidding, I am not pregnant yet. Lemuel's out of the country so much. I am almost bored all the time," she complained.