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People say that Kalim is a loving person.
That her heart is too big for her body, her mind too foolish for the world she lives in. A 'sweet little idiot', Jamil called her once, and then immediately denied that she'd ever used the word sweet.
She's been told since she was young that she's going to be a wonderful mother. The way she handles her younger siblings is so natural, after all. And she's so full of love, so kind, so patient; Of course she'll be a good mother. No one asked her if she wanted to be a mother, but she isn't bothered by that. It makes sense why they wouldn't. After all, is it part of her fate as the eldest daughter of the Asim family.
But no, that's not what bothers Kalim. What bothers her is that she doesn't know how to tell them she's not good, not as loving as they'd like to think she is.
She doesn't love her husband, to start with. He's a fine man. He treats her kindly, most of the time. He is a wonderful businessman, and her family is so enchanted with him they assume she must be, too. And it's not like she hates him. She just feels nothing. Not when she wakes up next to him, not when he kisses her and certainly not when they're in bed together. She'd felt guilty about it at the start, that this man was chained to a woman that would never care for him the way he seemingly cared about her. But that problem quickly solved itself; she takes some comfort in the fact that he doesn't look at her that way, either.
A man is supposed to look at his wife as a partner, a person, not as a trophy or a badge of honor. At least that's what Jamil always said, the few times they talked about their futures, just two little girls dreaming of a life bigger than what they had always known. Even back then Kalim was uninterested in men, but she nodded and listened because Jamil was always, always right, and Kalim was going to have to get engaged eventually anyways. Even though the thought of being married to a man made her skin crawl and her stomach twist in knots. Just nerves, right?
So what if she had read the story of the Thief and the Princess and imagined herself as the rugged, handsome thief, taking the princess by the hand and showing her the world?
(And so what if the princess looked a bit too similar to Jamil? It just makes sense; Jamil has always been the most beautiful person Kalim has ever known.)
But Kalim, for all her flaws, wasn't stupid. She knew there would be no love story in her future. Maybe a like story, at least? She'd tried to be friends with her husband, she really had.
But in the end, she always knew that whoever she married would be marrying the business, not her. It's what she expected, so it's fine. Everything's fine.
She's busy enough to keep her mind off things. She still has her duties training to be the head of the family once her father dies. Though lately her husband has been invited to that training too, allegedly to 'support' her. Kalim knows better than that, but she loves her father, wants to trust him and his decisions. So she smiles and welcomes the man she calls husband to take her place, her power.
It was never really hers in the first place. She was always on borrowed time.
She collapses on the plush chair in her sitting room with a sigh, and if she's being too dramatic, well, there's no one around to scold her about it anymore. She's already dismissed her servants for the day, eager to soak up the evening rays in a space where she can finally think without having to be on guard every second.
It's ironic, how at school all she ever wanted was to be around other people. Now her favorite part of the day is when she's alone. Well. Almost.
Kalim opens her phone and scrolls to Jamil's contact, saved right to her home screen.
For almost a year after her wedding, Jamil hadn't contacted her. Kalim accepted it; She had already made peace with the fact that Jamil was finally free to live her own life, and she was happy for her. Really, truly. If there's anyone in this world that deserves to shine, to make herself known, it's Jamil.
To this day, Kalim is not entirely sure of the conversation that Jamil had with her family. Only that it wasn't easy, but it was enough. Enough for them to let Jamil go, their disapproval at odds with their knowledge that they couldn't control her life, not anymore. That no one could cage Jamil anymore; Not her family, not the Asim estate, and definitely not herself.
Her work studying magical artifacts has taken her all across the globe now, just like she wanted. Kalim is so proud of her.
It was a little lonely at first, but Kalim had plenty of work to distract herself with; even if sometimes she had to make up things just to keep her mind occupied. She didn't want to bother Jamil, to burden her more than she already had. So she accepted Jamil's silence with a smile, the way Kalim accepts most things that hurt her.
But then one day, out of the blue, she received a text. A picture.
A beautiful bird perched on a tree branch, its multicolored feathers gleaming in the early morning sunlight. It wasn't a professional photo by any means, and the angle was strange, as if the photographer had to stretch to take the shot.
There was a single message attached;
"Thought you'd like this."
And Kalim did. She really, really did.
It was such an awkward way of reestablishing contact, and so very Jamil that it made Kalim giggle as she typed out her response.
From then on they had been texting almost every day. At first Kalim was hesitant to respond too much; What if she was annoying Jamil, even from a distance? But she learned quickly that Jamil would just keep sending messages even if Kalim didn't answer. It makes her feel warm even now, to know that Jamil still wants to share part of her life with her. Kalim will gladly take it, whatever she can get.
So now her favorite part of the day, after all the meetings and politics and training, is getting back to her room and checking her phone to see Jamil's daily adventures. She has about two hours before her husband retires, and she always makes the most of it.
But today, she can't bring herself to open her messages, to check what Jamil has sent her.
Because she has a question. A sick, horrible question that she can't voice out loud to anyone, or they'd know. They would know right away what kind of person she is. And it's not a loving one.
Kalim lays a hand over her stomach.
She's still not showing, yet. She won't for a while. It's good news, that she's pregnant. She should be happy, and part of her is. She's always wanted kids. But does she deserve them?
Growing up, Kalim's most constant companion other than Jamil, was loneliness. Because she was the eldest daughter, she had to accept that any of her family members could be scheming to kill her at any time. Because she was the eldest daughter, she had to accept that some of her siblings would just naturally hate her, influenced as they were by their parents. Because she was the eldest daughter she endured countless kidnappings, constant attempts on her life, constant paranoia about who she could and couldn't trust.
At least she had Jamil. With Jamil, things were simple. Jamil always made her feel like a person, rather than just the role she was born into.
(If only she had been able to return the favor, maybe Jamil would still be here.)
But now there's no Jamil, and Kalim is sure she is carrying a daughter and she is terrified for her and terrified of her.
Is it fair to bring a child into this sort of life? How can she look a child in the eyes and repeat the same words her father said to her- that this is her 'fate?'
Even more pressing, and the question Kalim needs to ask but never will, is-
What if I can't love her?
Because Kalim is not as loving as everyone thinks she is. She is not a boundless oasis. She is an old, rusted well and sometimes she wonders if she's already gone dry.
What if she isn't a good mother? What if she looks at this child and feels nothing? What then? What if it turns out all along that Kalim was never good, never kind, never patient?
Even worse: What if she does love her? What if she loses her? What if Kalim isn't able to protect her from the world around them, and isn't able to keep her safe?
Does she deserve this child? Does this child deserve her?
She's terrified to know the answer.
But there's no one she can ask anyway. There's no one she can trust with this, or at least no one else she should burden it with.
She'll tell her family tomorrow. She'll put on a bright, confident smile and they'll celebrate, probably call for another party to announce the news. And everyone will gather around and tell Kalim what a good mother she's going to be, and she will nod and laugh and thank them and shove down the sickly feeling of guilt that crawls up her throat over and over again until she's finally able to forget it, if only for a little while.
But tonight? Tonight she'll muster up her courage and tell Jamil.
It takes her way too long to send the short text, typing and erasing and typing again. She wonders if Jamil watches the little bubbles like she does, if Jamil is wondering why she's taking so long to reply.
'I'm going to have a baby, ' is what Kalim settles on eventually. Simple and to the point. Jamil likes that.
Jamil replies back almost instantaneously.
'Are you okay?'
Kalim blinks. Once, twice. The message doesn't change.
After a second, another message comes through.
'Congratulations.'
It almost feels sheepish, like Jamil added it as an afterthought.
Kalim laughs, startling herself with the sound. She laughs herself into a fit, because of course Jamil would say that. Only Jamil would worry about Kalim first. Anyone else would have assumed it was happy news, would assume Kalim was over the moon, but of course Jamil sees right through her. Didn't she always?
And maybe it's the hormones or maybe Kalim is just feeling bold, but she hits the call button before she can stop herself.
Jamil answers on the second ring.
"Kalim?" She says, her tone concerned, and Kalim smiles.
"Jamil," She says warmly, "Thank you." For more than you'll ever know.
They don't have a lot of time before Kalim's husband finally comes up to bed. They don't talk much about the baby, honestly. Kalim mostly peppers Jamil with questions about where she's staying currently, clinging to her smooth voice over the phone like it's a lifeline. It's only after Jamil trails off and Kalim prompts her to continue that the woman broaches the topic again.
"...Do you have a name?"
Kalim snorts.
"No, not yet. I just found out, Jamil."
She hears a sharp intake of breath, and Jamil's tone is a little softer when she speaks next.
"I'm the first one you told?"
"Well, of course. Who else?"
Jamil falls silent at that. Kalim expects her to say, well, your husband, or suggest her family, and yes, maybe that would have been more appropriate. But Kalim doesn't particularly care.
And apparently, neither does Jamil, because she continues on.
"Do you remember the book we made? The future book?"
Kalim's eyes light up. Yes, she remembers; How had she ever forgotten? It had been a little project given to Kalim to keep her occupied, to map out her future and think about the day she'd get married. At the time, she'd been convinced she was going to marry Jamil, and so had dragged her friend into working on the booklet's questions with her.
It's a fond memory. It was before Jamil had truly started pulling away from her, so they had argued, actually argued, about their hypothetical future. Coming up with baby names had actually been one of the only things they agreed on.
But-
"Ah, I think that's been lost, Jamil...My maids probably threw it out when I moved rooms." Kalim says apologetically, and she really is sorry. She would have loved to look at it again, even if it would have hurt. "I'm sorry."
"I have it." Jamil says quickly.
Kalim pauses.
"You do?"
"Yes, I- Well, not right here with me, but it's probably at my parents house..." Jamil coughs, and Kalim stifles a laugh. She can just tell Jamil is making an embarrassed face right now. She's always been so cute.
"Are you saying I should pick one of the baby names we chose back then?" Kalim asks teasingly, and Jamil sighs, though it's not as annoyed as it usually would be.
"No, I just- It just reminded me of it, that's all."
"I see..." Kalim says, and her chest feels near bursting with fondness. "Well, it couldn't hurt to have a look?"
"No, I didn't- That's not what I meant!"
Kalim laughs as Jamil protests weakly.
Ah, she loves her. She loves this beautiful, ridiculous woman who is halfway around the world and who will never love her back.
She's learning to be okay with that.
The next day Kalim asks Najma for help finding the book, and they do, tucked away under Jamil's bed in the room she used to share with Najma.
The list of names is still intact. One at the top catches her eye, obviously written in Jamil's childish scrawl.
Samira.
Something clicks, then, in Kalim's chest. Something that makes her feel like, despite everything, it's going to be okay.
(She should have known. Jamil has always made her feel this way.)
She's still terrified, of course. She still doesn't know if she's going to be the mother everyone says she will be. She doesn't even know if she's ever going to be the person everyone says she is.
But as she quietly bestows this name, this gift, to her unborn daughter, she's hopeful for the first time in a long while.
She might just have enough love in her yet.