Emeralds

Thirty-eight.

Thirty-eight.
[Adam]

Of course it hurts.

Kicking the dream I've worked so hard to live, and throwing away my greatest passion, it sure hurts like hell.

But I did it for her. That's a strong enough reason for me not to back away now, or regret it. I did it so I can stay by her side when she needs me the most, when there must be someone to take care of her all the time, not only because of her health state, but also because she's in a constant war with her thoughts, and she's quite depressed. I have to be there. She needs me.

She will have to give up her job too, and she didn't even choose that. I know how much her job meant to her, how much reading also did, she can't even watch her favourite dramas anymore. Can't I at least give up only one thing I love for her? She has to understand that and stop being mad at me.

Suddenly it comes to me, something that will definitely make her feel better, something that we have been planning since we were engaged. It just needs more planning now.

I get out my phone and text Mariam.
Me: You there?
Mariam: Yup
Mariam: What is it?
Me: I have this thing in mind and I wanted to discuss it with you
Mariam: What kind of thing
Me: I want to take Leen for an Umra
Mariam: But what about her work
Mariam: Oh, sorry
Me: It's okay
Me: I don't even quite understand it myself
Mariam: I think taking her there is a great idea
Me: I know, right?
Me: But the thing is, I won't always be with her in the masjid, so I need you to come
Mariam: Aha
Mariam: I'll ask mom and take a break from work
Me: Okay, call me then
Mariam: Okay

I get out of bed after I couldn't really sleep while we're mad at each other. I walk outside but don't find her.
"Lee!" I call out, but she doesn't answer. "Leen, where are you?" I descend the stairs and hear sounds coming from the kitchen. I walk inside and spot her in front of the fridge, standing cluelessly with bread in her hand.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"I was really hungry, I thought I'd make myself something," she says sensing around until she finds the fridge door, and shuts it.
"Why didn't you call me?" I say taking the bread from her hand. "You can't work with one hand while the other is still in plaster."
"Not only that," she says backing away and taking a seat on a chair. "I don't think I'll be able to carry on with a normal life anymore," she sniffles. "I don't want to bother people and burden them. I can't live like that, Adam." She cries, "Look at you now, quitting your job because of me and worrying about me all the time. I can't even make a sandwich!" I put the bread down on the table and help her stand up and hug her.
"You're not bothering anyone, and you're not a burden," I say smoothing down her hair. "People help those whom they love without thinking about it. I want to do whatever I can for you and I love it, it's not burdensome. Believe me. Plus, later on you'll get really good at doing everything on your own again. And maybe you won't even get the chance to because there's a chance you'll recover inshallah."
"A small chance," she says.
"We don't know yet. And it's a chance anyway." We part away. "What do you wanna eat anyway?"
"Just any sandwich," she smiles gratefully.
I take out my phone, "There was this pasta dish I liked so much, we can search the recipe and let's have a decent dinner. What do you think?" I say enthusiastically.
"Perfect," she tries to match my tone.
I smile to myself and take a chair to the centre of the kitchen. I hold her by the shoulders and guide her to the chair. "Now sit here and wait."
"Okay," she smiles.
I google the recipe and open the website, "The ingredients are: Spaghetti, tomato paste, mushrooms, garlic..." I keep reciting what's written to her and she listens. "Do we have basil?"
"I don't think so," she shakes her head. "But we have some pesto, it contains basil..."
"Perfect!" I say opening the fridge and taking out the pesto.
"What perfect?" she laughs. "That's a mess! You're ruining the recipe."
"We can add our touch anyway, not like the recipe is sacred or something." I say and she laughs again.
"I don't want to go back to the hospital please," she teases me.
"I'm trying to be a nice husband, then look at you making fun of me. You never trust my abilities yubo. Haven't I told you once that I am really smart?"
"I already memorise what you're going to say," she says laughing at the memory. "You can speak four languages and you studied aviation-" she breaks off when she mentions my studies and job.
"Leen," I sigh. "I'm really fine with my choice, so stop worrying and blaming yourself. I told you you're more important to me."
"I still can't get over it," she tries her best not to cry. "I'm really mad at you."
"Not after you eat my divine pasta," I say taking her hand and making her stand up. "Come this way... Yes... Now let's cook together!"
"H-How?" she asks.
"Like this," I make her face the counter and wrap her fingers around the knife, then wrap my fingers around hers. I hold vegetables with the other hand as her left hand is in plaster, and we chop.