Chapter 7, The Twins 2
Zainab and Lukman sat stunned, as if time itself had paused. The city noise dulled into silence, and all they could do was watch her-until she turned to walk away.
And just like that, reality snapped back.
She was leaving.
They didn't think. They just moved-doors flinging open as they leapt out of the car.
"Zara!" Zainab called, her voice trembling with disbelief.
"Zara!" Lukman echoed, already rushing toward her.
"You came back," he breathed, voice cracking under the weight of years. "You're really back." His eyes shimmered with emotion. He didn't hesitate-he pulled her into his arms, clinging to the warmth he didn't realize he'd been aching for all this time. After three long, empty years, nothing else mattered. Not the strangers staring. Not the noise around them.
Just her.
For a fleeting moment, she didn't move. She didn't push him away. They stood there, their breaths mingling.
But then-she pulled away and stepped back.
And before he could speak, her hand swung sharply through the air and struck his face.
The sound sliced through the quiet like glass shattering.
Lukman stood motionless. Zainab froze beside him.
He barely registered the sting. He was too busy staring at her-his wife. His missing wife. The woman who had haunted his dreams for years.
But her eyes...
They were blank. No love. No hate. Just... uncertainty.
"Is this how you grab strangers in the street?" she said, her voice icy as she took another step back.
"Strangers?" Zainab asked
"Strangers?" Lukman's voice cracked. "Zara, what are you saying? You're not a stranger. You're my wife."
He reached out again, gently cradling her face, pleading with his touch. But she flinched, pulling away as if burned.
"I don't know who you are," she said, firm and distant. "My name isn't Zara. It's Zima."
His hands dropped, helpless.
"Zima..." he whispered, the name alien and jarring on his tongue.
"Zima?" Zainab repeated in disbelief, staring at the woman before them.
"Yes. Zima," She said, steady now. "And I think you've got the wrong person."
Everything about her was the same-the warmth in her voice, the scent he remembered so clearly. And yet... she claimed to be someone else.
Before either of them could respond, she turned sharply and walked away, her steps brisk and purposeful. She didn't glance back-not even once.
Zainab and Lukman remained rooted to the spot for a heartbeat longer, stunned once again. But they quickly snapped out of it. There was no time to dwell on shock or confusion-not now.
Without exchanging a word, they rushed back to their car and jumped in.
They had to follow her.
Lukman and Zainab's hearts hammered in their chests as they followed Zima's car into the vast estate. The mansion that loomed ahead was nothing short of magnificent-an opulent structure surrounded by tall walls and towering gates, with security personnel standing at attention. To the eyes of two people from modest backgrounds, the sheer size of the house spoke volumes about wealth and status. But to Lukman and Zainab, it was a place that held the answers they desperately sought now.
They parked their car beside Zara's and barely took a moment to breathe before rushing out and toward her, who had already stepped out of her vehicle.
Zima's eyes widened when she spotted them. "You again?" she exclaimed, clearly taken aback. Her body stiffened, and without a second thought, she turned to walk away.
But Lukman and Zainab were quick to act. Lukman reached out and grabbed her arm, while Zainab caught hold of her other hand, effectively stopping her.
"Zara, please, why are you running away from us?" Zainab implored, her voice tinged with both sadness and desperation. "We've waited for you for so long. Please, come back. Everyone wants to see you."
Zima shook her head violently, her voice trembling as she tried to free herself. "I am not Zara, Please... leave me alone. Let go of me!" she cried, panic creeping into her voice.
Lukman's grip tightened, his heart pounding as the truth he had long hoped for seemed so close yet far at the same time. "Why are you saying you're not Zara?" His voice cracked, emotion thick in his words. "Can't you remember? You're my wife, Zara. Please, stop pretending."
Before she could respond, two imposing bodyguards stepped forward, their presence commanding the space. They stood in front of Zima, their eyes narrowed in warning.
"What are the two of you doing?" one of the bodyguards barked, his voice deep and authoritative. "Step back, now."
Lukman and Zainab both hesitated for a moment, but neither of them budged. They couldn't let go now-not when they were so close.
"Please, let go of me!" Zima pleaded again, her body trembling, but still she couldn't seem to break free from their grip.
Lukman's frustration boiled over, his voice rising as he struggled to contain his emotions. "We need answers!" he shouted, his eyes wild with confusion. "This woman-she's my wife. She's Zara! I know it's her!"
Zainab, her face pale yet burning with determination, stepped forward and said with urgency, "She's my twin sister. We've been searching for her for years... and now we find her like this?"
She turned to the others, her voice trembling with emotion. "Can't you all see? We look alike!"
Though they weren't identical, the resemblance between them was still undeniable-enough for anyone paying attention to notice.
Zima's eyes darted between them, the confusion in her gaze growing. She could feel the tension in the air, but nothing they said made sense to her. She didn't recognize them-she didn't even know who they were.
Before Lukman or Zainab could press further, the door to the mansion opened with a soft creak, and a woman in her mid-fifties stepped out. She was tall and graceful, her presence commanding the place despite her simple yet elegant dress. Her sharp eyes softened as they took in the tense scene before her, and with a small but powerful gesture, she raised her hand.
"Enough," she said gently but with authority. "Let my daughter go."
The bodyguards managed to ease Zima away from Lukman and Zainab, though they still kept a watchful eye on them. Zima didn't resist as she stepped closer to the woman, her gaze uncertain.
The woman turned to Lukman and Zainab, her expression calm but unyielding. "Would you care to explain what is going on?" she asked in a voice that brooked no argument.
Lukman and Zainab exchanged looks, knowing they had no choice but to explain. They had to get to the truth, no matter how painful it might be.
---
20 minutes later.
Lukman and Zainab sat in a spacious, opulent parlor, the kind of room that screamed wealth and prestige even better than thiers at home. Soft lighting bathed the space in a warm glow, and though refreshments-water, drinks, and snacks-had been placed in front of them, neither of them touched a thing. They were too preoccupied with the overwhelming questions that hung in the air.
The woman, who had introduced herself as Mrs. Amira, sat across from them, composed and serene, while a young guy, perhaps in his late teens, sat farther away on the sofa, completely absorbed in a video game. The vastness of the room made it seem as though he was miles away, yet the silence between them all felt suffocating.
Mrs. Amira looked at them with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "May I know why both of you are here?" she asked, her voice gentle but firm.
Lukman and Zainab exchanged another glance, this time filled with the pain of uncertainty. Finally, Lukman spoke, his voice shaky but resolute as he recounted the last few years-their search for Zara, their belief that this woman, Zima, was in fact their Zara.
"We've been looking for her for so long," Zainab added softly. "This woman here looks exactly like my twin sister. We were sure it was her, can you even see our resemblance."
Mrs. Amira listened intently, her expression unreadable, as they finished telling their story. After a long pause, she spoke.
"Please, that was my daughter, Zima. You are mistaken," she said gently, her tone soothing but final. "She is not the person you are looking for."
Lukman's heart raced, disbelief flashing across his face. "What do you mean? She's Zara! She's my wife, and her name is Zara!" His voice cracked under the weight of his desperation.
Mrs. Amira's sigh was deep, almost weary. "I don't know who Zara is. The woman you've been speaking of... that was Zima, my daughter. She has been with me since she was a child. I raised her. She is the one I know."
Zainab's breath hitched, a cold wave of disbelief washing over her. "But... but she's the same. She looks just like Zara. How could she not be her?" Her voice was filled with a desperate need for answers.
Lukman and Zainab sat in stunned silence, unable to comprehend what they were hearing. How could Zima, who looked so much like Zara, be someone entirely different? How could the woman they had believed was their sister and wife not be the same person?
The woman's gaze remained calm as she met their eyes. "I understand how hard this must be for you. But Zima is my daughter. She is the woman I raised, and I've known her all her life. It's not possible that she is someone else."
The words continue hitting them like a slap to the face. It made no sense. How could this be? They didn't even look alike!.
Zainab's voice cracked as she whispered, "But... how could this happen? How could she look exactly like Zara?"
Mrs. Amira's gaze softened as she looked at them. "Life happens unexpectedly sometimes."
Her words were like a veil of sorrow over the room, thickening the air with the weight of what they meant. Lukman and Zainab felt as though the ground beneath them was crumbling. They had found the woman they had searched for-only to be told she wasn't who they thought she was.
Mrs. Amira glanced toward the young man in the corner of the room, who had been quietly observing the conversation. "This," she said, her voice soft but resolute, "is Abdulbaqi, Zima's brother. He can vouch for everything I've told you."
"Zima's brother?." Zainab asked
Mrs. Amina nodded slowly, her expression heavy with finality. "Yes, Zima and Abdulbaqi are siblings. Zima is my daughter. I assure you, this is the truth."
A thick silence fell over the room, the tension almost suffocating as each person retreated into their own thoughts. Lukman and Zainab sat there, their hearts heavy with confusion and disbelief. How could this woman, standing in front of them, insist that Zima wasn't Zara? Everything about her-the look, the mannerisms-felt so much like Zara, except for what they had just been told.
After what seemed like an eternity, Mrs. Amina spoke again, her voice soft but firm. "I pray that you find the woman you are looking for. But this is Zima, my daughter. And I ask that you respect her life as it is. Please."
Her words seemed to hang in the air, as though urging them to leave, to accept what they had been told, and walk away.
Lukman and Zainab exchanged a look, their minds racing. How could they simply leave now? This woman's words didn't feel right to them. Could they really accept that Zima wasn't Zara?
Before they could say anything, Mrs. Amina stood up, signaling the end of the conversation. "I think I will go rest now. Good luck with your search for Zara," she said, her tone almost dismissive.
She turned to Abdulbaqi, who had been quietly observing. "Abdulbaqi, drop the game and study," she instructed as they both left the room together.
Lukman stood up abruptly, ignoring Zainab's questioning glance. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.
"I'm going to look for Zara in the house," Lukman said, pointing toward the direction he had seen Zima disappear into. "Or do you believe she's not Zara?" His voice was sharp, almost challenging.
Zainab shook her head, frustration bubbling inside her. "No, I believe she is Zara. But I think we should calm down. And act smart, Let's not make any rash decisions. Let's not make a scene here. We know where her house is now. We should tell our family, or even the police. Or we can investigate further before making any moves."
Lukman shot her a sarcastic glance. "Investigate?" he scoffed, brushing past her and heading toward the staircase. "I'm not wasting any more time."
Zainab stood there, speechless, watching him storm off. She was taken by surprise-Lukman was really something else, she thought. He was impulsive, driven by emotions, and rarely stopped to think before acting.
Lukman climbed the stairs, leaving her behind. Zainab hesitated for a moment, then hurried after him, not wanting him to get into trouble for her sisters sake. But by the time she reached the top of the stairs, he had disappeared from her sight.
Panicking, she called out for him, her voice low but urgent. She didn't want to alert anyone, but she also couldn't afford to let him do something reckless. As she walked, trying to locate Lukman, she misstepped on the top edge of the stairs.
Her foot slipped, and she found herself tumbling forward. In a flash of panic, she reached out, but just as she was about to lose her balance completely, a hand gripped her from behind, stopping her from falling.
Zainab's heart raced in her chest, not from the near fall, but from the shock of the person who had caught her. She froze, unable to speak as she found herself staring into the familiar face of the man who had just saved her.
Her breath caught in her throat. "How can this be?" she whispered to herself in disbelief.
Standing in front of her,
The scents.
His face.
As familiar as ever.
Her mind was reeling. He had been gone for so long-she had believed him to be lost to her forever. But there he was, standing in front of her, as though nothing had ever happened. As though he hadn't disappeared into the shadows of the past.
"Careful, careful please"
Also same familiar voice.
How is this even possible she thought.
"Mubarak"