Mirage A' Trois: The Vault

Amaar stood still taking in the sterile environment. He had no idea what he was doing here. The manager walked in slowly, looking every bit the Bond girl. “Mr D’Angelo , an assistant will be with you shortly, do have a seat. You have half an hour by yourself in the vault, after which you, along with your possessions, if you choose to remove them, will be escorted to your home.”
He smiled at her, “I hardly think I’ll need that much time.” He replied.
She left the room.
He exhaled.
“What the fuck is this place?” he thought to himself.

The assistant arrived with a rectangular silver box, it had a single slit in the middle. He handed Amaar a card and left.
Amaar looked at the box.
He walked around the table so that he was standing in front of the slot.
He took a deep breath.
He inserted the card into the slot.
The box beeped and a draw slid open…

Inside on the plush velvety fabric, lay a nondescript brown envelope and a very familiar, worn out, tiny hessien sack, with a drawstring.

Rahma… he gasped.
The room swirled.
His head swam.

Slowly he reached for the envelope because he already knew all to well what was in the sack. He opened the envelope grudgingly, the thick white paper felt heavy in his big hands. If this was from the same Rahma, he was certain life would never be the same again.

Amaar                                           12/07/2010

I am amazed at how fast 14 years have passed beloved, there were times I thought it was at a standstill to torture me, but I look at Zahreen and I am certain that time does indeed heal, and that life’s plan unfolds in a manner mortals could never understand. 

I still remember the day I left. Us at the airport holding hands. You promising me that nothing would change, that you would always love me and that as soon as you had sold enough paintings you would come to see me. You hid your sorrow well. You were so happy for me. You thought the only reason I was leaving was because I had received a scholarship and was headed to Nairobi for my research. 

You were almost right. It was that and ... Zahreen. Yes we have a daughter. Yes she’s beautiful, yes she has your eyes and your dry sense of humor and yes she’s an artist just like you. 

I am sorry my love, I realised how high the stakes were and how many peoples hopes were pinned on your success. You always said that you would never leave your mother and siblings the way your father had and that as the eldest you had to make sure that you gave them a good life, it would be your gift to your mother, you were tired of watching her suffer silently.

I always thought that after you graduated I would find you and tell you what had happened and why I really left, but when the time arrived you had already moved away, moved on, committed to someone else. 

Zahreen thinks that you were killed in a mountaineering accident on Mount Kilimanjaro the month before she was born. If you are reading this letter, it means that I am dead and that Rushda has managed to locate you (she has always remained a loyal friend as well as the only other person who knows the entire story). Zahreen needs you. She has no one else except Rushda and the world can be an unfriendly place for a teenager. 

There has always remained one truth and that is that I have loved you completely. I did what I thought was best under the circumstances. I am returning the silver amulet you gave me to mark our second year together. Please give it to Zahreen after you tell her the truth. She has always loved wearing it. 