Chaos in the Canvas √

35 | forgiveness

صدایں دیتے ہوئے اور خاک اڑاتے ہوئے
میں اپنے آپ سے گزرا ہوں تجھ تک آتے ہوئے

Monday - 6:21pm

Fourty five hours, thirty seven minutes and twenty one seconds after the police had handcuffed Ibrahim Yazdani, her phone rang.

Ibrahim.

Gulping, Hemayal shut her eyes tightly, bracing her heart for the storm that was about to engulf her any moment now. No doubt lingered behind the lids, no uncertainty there to steady her wrecked heart in this existential moment.

Everything and anything evaded her the second that familiar name brightened her phone screen.

"Hello?" Hemayal said, voice small as she clutched the phone tightly to her ear.

"Hey." Ibrahim's voice reached her, a span of two days between their two momentous conversations - one that was filled with irony, secrets and lies and the other was yet to be decided but Hemayal could see the colours and she hoped for her own sake that they were those of forgiveness.

"How are you?" Hemayal asked, steeling her spine as she straightened a little in her place.

"How do you think I am?" Ibrahim questioned and Hemayal gulped, the colours dimming right before her eyes.

"Fine, I hope." Hemayal whispered, teeth grazing the lower lip mercilessly.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, baby." Ibrahim said, voice every shade of serious, and breath arrested in Hemayal's throat for a second.

Was it the term of endearment he had so frequently used before or the seriousness in his voice, bordering anger, that made her place a trembling hand right above the organ she'd done a stupid job protecting her whole life?

"Ibrahim..." Hemayal began, voice softer than it had ever been, and a small chuckle left Ibrahim's lips.

"And now she says my name." The throaty chuckle did little to lessen the tension sprawled all over the space - if only, it added to it.

Somewhere along the cold winds and harsh realities of the past days, every last grudge she had housed in her heart for Ibrahim melted away. No revenge, no animosity was left behind - only regrets and pain. And now that she had forgiven him, his words and attitude pierced right through her fragile, recovering heart.

She could handle his anger, not his hate - never that.

"Where are you?" Hemayal asked, trying to steer the conversation to neutral waters.

"Police station." The reply came and she stopped short.

"You haven't been released yet?" Hemayal asked, confused.

She had just gotten off the call with her brother who had informed her that Ibrahim had been released, all charges dropped. More information, he had refused to provide over the phone but that didn't matter. The one thing that mattered, it happened.

"I have, just some last minute formalities," he said and Hemayal nodded, lost in thought. "Might I just say, you put up a fine, fine case for me."

Pride and pain hit her square in the chest all together, both consuming, both unbearable.

"Can we meet?"

What possessed her to utter her desire, she didn't know. The only thing that crossed her mind was the urgent need to see his face - that stupid, stubbly face she hated so much, loved so much.