Beyond

TRIPS AND TERMINALS

January, 2005.

"Hello, is this seat taken?" She asked, standing at one of the tables at the outdoor café.

Kamal didn't bother to look up from his book and simply shook his head in response.

Pulling the seat opposite him, she let out a sigh before proceeding to devour her sandwich as she was famished. Today's classes had started at 7 a.m., and she was rushing through her one-hour break.

She finished eating and cleared her throat, which caught Kamal's attention. He raised his face to see who his companion was. The rose gold timepiece on her wrist caught his eye, and he couldn't help himself. "Wow. Nice watch!" he exclaimed. "Is that the..."

"The slide rule bezel Breitling Navitimer with a fantastic chronograph?" She finished the sentence for him, and they both smiled.

"It looks like someone knows her wristwatches. Impressive."

"A watch is more than a timekeeper. It is a work of art that tells a story."

Kamal nodded in agreement and looked at her in awe. She was beautiful, with her talha done perfectly, a great dentition, and the heavenly sandalwood bakhoor scent emanating from her.

The first time he saw her, she stood out in the crowd of students, her presence like a magnetic force pulling him in. It wasn't just her physical appearance; it was the way she carried herself, the subtle confidence in her walk, and the genuine interest she showed in the world around her. Kamal couldn't help but be captivated by the way she spoke, her mannerisms, and the expressions that danced across her face as she engaged in conversation. It was more than attraction; it was an unexplainable connection that left him intrigued.

This wasn't normal. No woman had such a profound effect on him.

Her phone rang, breaking him out of his trance. "Hello?" she answered. "Okay. Mido wara."

Fulfulde had never sounded any better.

She grabbed her bag from the table and stood up. "I have to go, or I'll be late for my class."

Kamal watched her walk away, and he was about to leave too when he noticed she had left her jotter on the table. Picking it up, he glanced at the first page, and there it was, written in cursive, "Piya..."

---

26th January, 2017.

Kamal woke up with a throbbing headache, the remnants of a haunting dream lingering in his mind. Images flashed before him, and he rubbed his temples to dispel the lingering tension. This was not the time for disturbing dreams.

He glanced over to his side, finding Fatimè fast asleep. He felt a twinge of gratitude for the temporary respite sleep offered them both. The past week had been a harrowing ordeal, especially for Fatimè. Sleep had become elusive for both of them.

After all, she was the one who went through the D&C. The words "Your wife has suffered a miscarriage" kept replaying in Kamal's head, a relentless echo of despair. The heartbreaking look on Fatimè's face when he stepped into the ward was etched in his memory.

He held her for a long time as she cried, feeling utterly useless at that moment. Even with her family's presence, she remained withdrawn. The vibrant smile and glow on her face were replaced by a shroud of grief. It was only natural that she was mourning.

He was mourning too. The anticipation of welcoming a baby had been replaced by the heavy burden of loss. Kamal blamed himself, grappling with thoughts of what he could have done differently, replaying the moments leading to the hospital visit.