Mending Hearts

|Memories|

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرحمنِ الرَّحيم
Chapter- 5
Memories

She didn't question him.

“We have time till we head down for lunch. Why don't you rest?” He asked and she hummed. “But first, let me get fresh.” The urgence in his voice made her understand and she nodded her head.

As he left, she fell into deep thinking. For the twins and for myself too. What did he mean by the last words? She was confused and stunned.

He came after a few minutes and she was still in the same position. He cleared his throat and she raised her head, their gaze collided for a second before he headed to the dressing table.

“Ammi said that she had kept a spare cloth in that small bag.” He said and handed over her bag.

She took, “Jazakallah.” and meekly replied.

She walked inside the bathroom and kept the bag in the little space beside the sink and stared at herself.

She felt a bit disappointed. She didn't know what and why she was expecting yet a part of heart ached for reasons yet she can't point out one.

“Arghh!”

Soon, her eyes started to water and she started to cry but she kept her hand on her mouth.

She closed the toilet lid and sat on it, crying her heart out.

●

Mustafa exasperatedly sighed and stood up as soon she left. He kept his phone on charge and lay on the couch, while silently doing dhikr.

He was lost and felt distant. He felt all his life turned upside down but it was his faith that kept him sane. That didn't lead him astray. The more tests he was put in by Allah, the closer he felt he grew. The more he felt peace in his remembrance and worship.

Dhikr. He always keeps his lips moist in his remembrance. Especially when he is nervous or anxious, he sits still and takes a moment, he would silently engage himself in dhikr. It brings a profound sense of inner peace and tranquility. It soothes the soul and alleviates stress and anxiety.

The door knob turned and he immediately sat straight. She came out and that was the first time that he saw her properly. He didn't care which he knew was rude but he felt guilty.

She was his bride, his responsibility. His better half. Whether he wants to or not, he has accepted it by Allah's will. He cannot ignore her and treat her like she was only like a babysitter.

She was wearing dark green salwar kameez with a shawl completely wrapped around her head. The golden embroidery chiffon dupatta slightly slipped back, a few strands of hairs on her face.

She walked to the sofa, near the bathroom and kept her wedding dress and bag. She turned to him and he quickly offered a smile, trying to remove the awkwardness.

“Where can I keep my jewelry?”

“In the wardrobe. Or wherever you feel safe.” She nodded and walked to the dressing table. She felt weird opening the wardrobe, like it was disrespectful to touch someone's stuff.

“Everything is yours,” She turned to him. He stood up and came walking towards her. “In this room. You can use whatever you want and do whatever you want. Okay?” He stood a few inches away from her.

She nodded her head. She was about but feeling his presence coming near, her breath hitched and heart started frantically beating.

Allah! No.