Architect and Mrs Dantata

43: ZAYD

July, 2018

Amal has a wide grin on her face as she cuts the colourful ribbon in half, officially opening Athena. The cameras keep flashing and people cheer, our families and friends (both the old and new ones) at the forefront. I should be insanely happy but I'm not. It's a bittersweet moment for me and no one else apart from those closest to Amal and I understand. It's been a rollercoaster since March.

Amal drops the scissors on the tray the usher holds and then faces me, her smile still blinding. "Sa'ed, I did it!"

I smile back, my chest squeezing. "You did. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you!"

She turns back to the guests present and her smile never wavers. I reluctantly turn away, bringing my hands up to clap as well. The cameras keep flashing and people keep smiling but all I can see is Amal on the bathroom floor in the hospital, a bottle of anti-depressants in her hand and way too many pills in her mouth. It happened in May (the tenth day to be precise), a few hours after the doctors confirmed our third miscarriage of a baby we found out about a few days prior. It's no secret that it's going to take a little longer for me to somewhat shake it off that Amal nearly committed suicide.

This is her first public event since then. She's been in therapy and so have I. Her therapist said she's doing much better and although I can see it in how lively Amal now is, it's still hard to believe. We – she and I – have a talk hanging over our heads and I'm patiently waiting for her sessions to come to an end before I bring it up. That's what my therapist advised at least.

"Sa'ed,"

I'm brought back to the present and I face her, leaning down a little to hear her better. "Yeah?"

"I'm going up with the girls. I did tell you I wanted to check out the lounge with them first."

I don't want her out of my sight but at the same time I can't keep her caged in. Her being home since that day and only leaving for check-ups and therapy sessions has been caging enough. She needs her life back and I can't take it from her. Besides, she'll be with people I can trust. A friendship between her and Catherine has now become a circle of five; her, Catherine, Jameelah, Hussayna, and Asma Abubakar-Shehu who was introduced to them by Hussayna. Asma's nice, from the times I've met her, and she's a fashion designer who's good at her work too. Her husband, Ahmed Shehu, left my friends and I speechless the first time we met. He looks a little like me but we're nothing alike in character. He's a businessman and he's good at it too.

I nod at Amal. "No problem. I might come up later. I just have to meet with most people here first."

She's still smiling. "I'll be expecting you then." She kisses my cheek. "I love you, Sa'ed."

There's a little flutter in my chest. "I love you too, Amal. More than you'll ever know."

Her cheeks turn rosy and it leaves another flutter in my chest. She walks away, the longer end of her dress leaving a trail behind her that people make an effort to not step on. It was Asma's first gift to her after the suicide attempt and although she didn't say it, I'm sure it was a sort of peace offering because just after Amal was cleared as stable, Asma's pregnancy was confirmed and the news got to us despite them not wanting it to. I could tell it broke Amal. The therapy sessions she had after that were the longest ones she's had since we began. Just like everything else, Amal's coming to terms with it. Asma makes her happy and I hope we don't go down the spiralling road again.

"Sa'ed!" It's Baba. He walks over and holds me at arm's length. "You did it!"

I can't help but laugh. "How many times do I have to tell you that all of this is thanks to you, Baba? You birthed the blueprint that brought me here."