A silent cry

[7]HADID

Abbas

Before she died, she pleaded that I continue with the wedding. She said she had a good feeling about you and that you will show me happy days. At the time, I couldn't think, I was too busy staring at her, trying to memorize her little details before she leaves me. Like the حبت خال beneath her lip, on the right side of her face or the other one on the side of her left cheek that was evenly spaced between her nose and ear. Attempting to memorize the sound of her voice that always comforted me, I wanted to hold on to all these details about her. I couldn't believe the woman who raised me was going to leave me and all she worried about was that she never got to see me in my wedding dress that she never got to see my kids.

حبت خال translates to beauty mark

She wipes the tears from her face and looks to the side biting her lips and clearing her throat

"She even asked me if I could wear the wedding dress in front of her, can you imagine?" She looked at me shaking her head

"How could I possibly wear a wedding dress while she's on her deathbed!?"

I squeeze her palms in my hands and gently plant a kiss on each hand. I wipe the tears spilling from her precious eyes. I wanted her to let everything out, I wanted to lift the weight she carried on her shoulders. 

She continued crying on my chest and I imagined all her past memories running through her head. I imagined the pain she went through and the strong image she tried to maintain. I felt guilty when she told me to wait a year, I thought it was because she didn't want me. I thought maybe there was someone else. Now, I remember how rushed the wedding was after her mother's death. She never recovered from the pain and simply carried it all this time. I felt a pain in my chest, my thobe was drenched with her tears. I look at her face after the crying calmed down and realize she fell asleep.

I slowly carry her onto the bed and lay her down. I brush off her curls from the front of her face and run my fingers over the dried tears on her face. I think about all the times I saw her when we were kids and how she doesn't remember me from then. How I envied her because she didn't have to go to school. How interested  I became in this red-headed girl who I never imagined would actually be my wife.  I wouldn't think she went through anything by simply looking at her. my beautiful, amazing, wife. alhamdulillah. 

I used to look at her growing up catching glimpses of her filling the bucket of water instead of going to school. I didn't realize she didn't go to school because she was working for her family. I hold a strand of hair in my hand, and it felt as if holding a cloud in my hand. I recite the mu'awwizat over her head for protection 

After a few glimpses, I get up to make her something to eat and cut a watermelon for her on the side, remembering how she talked about it like it was a treasure.  As I set the food on the table I hear a knocking sound on the door. Who could it be at this late hour? I close the door to Hadiya's room and went to open the front door, it was Anwar. He was on his horse and I knew that meant he was carrying important news.

"what it is?" I say seeing the concerned look on his face, "we have to talk" he gives me a look and looks around us, I realize he fears there might be others listening, I invite him in and tell him to take a seat. he ties his horse to the door and walks in. he takes a seat across from me on the couch. "There's a huge uprising, a group of men called the Hadid  have formed a revolt and are planning on attacking Sana."

"the Hadid?" (Hadid translates to iron)

"that's not all, there's a spy within us"

"what led you to think that?"