Lovebirds

thirty-seven

*Trigger Warning*

All Naira could do was pass a brewing cup of hot chocolate towards Rayan as they sat in the breakroom of their floor, the rest of the building in a rush to finish the next meeting whereas they stayed stagnant in time, more specifically stuck behind the clock. He barely moved, frozen in a state of despair as fragments of his life fell before them, a time he refused to go back to.

She didn't want to force him, but he insisted.

"Rayan-" she tried one last time to divert the situation.

He shook his head. "You should know the folder you read about me hides a lot of details."

"I figured that much."

His eyes were stormy, full of an ache that couldn't be buried beneath a sea. "My family wasn't great growing up, not in the way you might be used to. Love wasn't a thing we spoke about often, and being the oldest meant having all the expectations thrown at you," he said, voice quiet like a midnight wave splashing against sharp rocks.

Naira considered this, about what it was like to be the oldest in the family. Daris was never burdened with expectations by her parents, not more than she was. They were close in age, practically twins growing up, and they did everything together. The only time Daris and her were separated was when she went to Hifz school to memorize the Qur'an, but even then her parents made it a point to always implement the importance of family when she came home every day.

Her father listened to her recitation. Her mother gave her tips. Her brother was her biggest cheerleader. They all played a role in helping her, and that same treatment went to her brother in his own studies, except Naira was his cheerleader.

Rayan's family isn't like that, she thought to herself. They didn't support him.

He threw his head into his hands, fingers grasping his curls in a tight fight. "Maybe," his shoulders shook with the rasp in his voice, "just maybe if that was all they did, I would have been okay. I would have been able to forgive them. But it wasn't."

Fear began to settle within, a ballast forming in her throat that she tried to swallow down, knowing her panic would not help him. She had a dreaded feeling from the heartbreak evident in his voice.

Rayan lifted his head, gaze watery with the years of pain and solitude he kept to himself, clear with resentment and fury. "My father... abused us. He said the word of God on his tongue as he beat his wife and children every night," his lips trembled. Rayan's visage twisted with disgust. "He spoke so highly about religion, about his role as the man of the house, and when the night came he'd... he would..." he trailed off as a choked breath escaped him. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," she whispered. "Your father abused you?"

He nodded, unable to meet her eyes.

"That wasn't your fault."

"He once beat me till my shirt was covered in blood stains from a nosebleed after being smacked repeatedly. He'd hit me for smiling, for coming home five minutes late, for not covering my bruises so he'd give me new ones," he gave a heartless chuckle. "Every time, I thought it was my fucking fault. I thought I deserved to be hit because I couldn't be the perfect son, because I couldn't protect my mother from the harsh beatings he gave her, because I couldn't find the courage to call the cops and stop him before it was too late."

Wait a minute. The pieces were slowly adding up, and her horror only grew. His mother.

Seeing the realization on her face, he could only stare back with a defeated look in his eyes. "No one wants to admit it in our family, but he killed her."