THE UNLOVED WIFE

33. THE HUG

33. The Hug

Zai's POV

I busied myself looking for my headset as Aaron was driving. As soon as I found it, I plug it in my phone and played Pink's Just Like A Pill. I saw him looking towards my direction but I simply closed my eyes and get drowned myself in the lyrics.

"Instead of making me feel better, you keep making me ill," I sang a bit softly.

Suddenly, the music had stopped playing. I opened my eyes and saw Aaron, now holding my phone. How quick his hand was!

"Give it back to me Aaron," I calmly told him.

But instead of giving it back, he placed it inside his gray jacket as he was driving.

"Astaghfirullah Zai. Finding comfort in pop music?" he asked, shaking his head in disappointment.

Guilt washed over me. I knew its haram. I knew I should find comfort in reading the Qur'an or reciting or listening to it. But I can't help it. The pain my heart is just too much that I need to sing them out loud.

I stayed quiet and just watched where we were headed.

"No, I don't want to go to that place. Take me home now," I said, raising my voice a bit.

"Not until you hear me out," he contradicted.

He parked the car and opened the door for me as soon as he got out. But I did not budge.

"You go inside. I'm staying right here," I said, acting like a spoiled kid.

"Okay, then I guess I have to just carry you in my arms," he mused.

He was about to touch me but I hurriedly got out of the car, pushing him slightly a bit. I started walking ahead towards the would-be Zai's Poetry Lounge. Aaron was laughing a bit loud and I stomped my way inside Building 235 at Alvarez Street.

The construction was done. It was painted already. Just needed more tables and decorations. The kitchen was well - furnished and the counter ordering area was impressive. I studied the entire place and breathe in and out. This was Amir's gift for me. Back when things were okay with us.

"Drinks on me," Aaron announced. He gave me a glass of what I guess was a Mountain Dew Drink.

"Where did you get this?" I asked before drinking.

"Amir had a refrigerator placed at the kitchen," he answered.

So Amir cared enough about this place. Maybe that's all he could ever do. Care. I was saddened at the thought and the pain in my heart started to cut through my soul again.

"Sit," Aaron offered as he got a stool chair. I sat on it. Then he stood in the elevated rising are which would be the stage of the lounge. He was now two meters away from me. He opened his jacket and got his phone.

"I typed this during my flight back home. The flight stewardess was thinking I was a terrorist about to blow up the airplane with my phone," he joked nervously, chuckling in an awkward tone.

"Huh?" I asked.

What was he doing?

"It's a poem I wrote for you..." he explained.

Stop. Stop. Stop him Zai. My mind was screaming. This was not how I wanted the first poetry to be read in this special place. It's supposed to be Amir or me. But I was too speechless and too surprise to do anything. And a big part of my heart wanted to hear his words.