The Other Woman In My Life

A sweet sweet story of meeting another woman, and the unusual friendship that blossoms between two women. Read on to know what happens…

I met her by chance almost 10 years ago. I had often seen her in the neighbourhood but one fine day she rang the door bell asking for some sugar. We exchanged courtesies and she left. A few months later we met again and then again. I kept avoiding her but for some reason or the other she kept returning. I reluctantly allowed her into my home and she soon became a part of my life. It was destined.

I ignored her at first but soon began looking forward to her visits. She spoke little and looked different but something about her intrigued me. I’d watch her from the corner of my eye, not meaning to be rude; and often caught her staring at me too when she thought I wasn’t looking. Slowly and gradually we got used to each other.

She is the first person I shop for on Eid  and can’t sleep all night waiting to see the look on her face the next morning! love to pamper her with gifts and find it difficult to refuse her anything. I often save my favourite clothes for her. She has become my confidante and has seen me on both my best and worst days. She was with me during both my pregnancies and even accompanied me for the deliveries, being my pillar of support and spoiling me with her care. She is a good human being.

I hate to confess sometimes that she’s better than me! I look up to her. For courage and resilience. For patience and gratitude. We often laugh ourselves silly with our childhood stories, that are so different yet pure.

She too is a mother and the love we share for our brood is common. We also disclose secrets and gossip knowing they’ll stay safe! In these 10 years she has become an integral part of my life and I totally believe she is God sent. Every morning when the  gate opens I know exactly when she walks in…I know it’s her and her bangles jingle when she crosses my room.

I let out a sigh…and snuggle deeper into bed. Thank God she is here, I can sleep a little longer! My kids lovingly call her ‘bua’ but she is our cook…Madina.

Image via Pixabay

Zarah Waziri

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