A silent cry

[1]Before the war

                                                     
Hadiya

the window in front of my bed was carved into the wall.  The rays of light would come through casting a luminous glow into the entire room, there's no way anyone could possibly sleep through it, I thought opening one eye at a time. I manage to sit up and my eyes shift to the note left on the window shelf, Abbas would usually write a little note and leave it there, I didn't know how to read but he taught me a few words that were enough for me to understand his notes. when I was stuck on a word it often enraged me, because I hated that I lacked such a vital skill. Abbas would usually recognize if I didn't know, just by looking at me, he would explain it over and teach me. 

"Your smile is more beautiful than the sunrise
my Hadiya"

my eyes constantly betrayed me,  they would drift to the bottom of the note first  "my Hadiya" it made my heart flutter. The first word he taught me how to read was my name, Hadiya. 

I bite my bottom lip unconsciously attempting to restrain the wide grin forming along my face while recalling the memory.

Memory
Abbas sat there writing the same word over and over again on a blank sheet of paper. His handwriting was beautiful, I admired watching him write so diligently. I walk over to his table and hover over his shoulder. "What does that mean" i point at the enlarged word at the top of the page. He didn't reply but I saw the side of his lip curl up. "I can't tell you" he said covering it up. I was befuddled but then I remembered he doesn't have to tell me. It might be a private war matter I'm not supposed to be aware of.

I was still curious but I didn't say anything, I turned to walk away when he looked up at my face but then he gripped my right hand pulling me back. "I'm just messing with you" he grinned and shook his head. "Come here" he makes space for me to sit next to him but I would rather stand, there was hardly any space next to him. "It's okay I can see from here" he ignores me and pulls me close to him. He holds my palm wrapping his hand around my finger and pointing it towards the letters of the word.

This is H, A,D,I,Y,A he says slowly sliding my finger across the sheet of paper to each letter. I was flustered at first but then I realized he was saying my name. Hadiya. I put my free palm over my mouth hiding the smile that stretched across my face and trying not to look at Abbas. This whole time he was writing my name. My heart skipped a beat or maybe two I wasn't certain.

"Don't hide your smile" he says gently moving my hand from my lips and gazing into my eyes. "I like to see you happy" I couldn't repress my smile when he said that. I point towards another word close to it "and this" I said embarrassed. He whispers the word in a husky voice "my"
I look at him waiting for him to elaborate "my hadiya" he says and I could feel him smile against my ear.
(My hadiya = my gift)
End of memory

I raised my palms and make dua "ya Allah protect him and bring him back to me safely"

The day would feel awfully long, sometimes I would rewrite the notes he left for me, my handwriting couldn't compare to his but over time I saw an improvement, I still didn't dare to show it to him, all of the notes would be hidden in a small red box under the bed.  As the day went on I tried my best to be occupied because when I wasn't my thoughts would overwhelm me and fill my heart with worry. worry and fear are like two best friends, the worst of friends.

I would turn to my lord and occupy myself with some prayers it was my source of therapy. I would do my best to try and cook new things, clean the house and make bakhoor ( an Arabic type of perfume).