His silence is his Pride (ON HOLD)

Chapter Twenty Five ♥ "His grave silence"

                                            Chapter Twenty Five

                                          “His grave silence”

                                      "ما الذي تريده مني, فأنا نفسي لا املك شيئا!

                              امشي على الأرض حافية القدمين والقلب مقسوم الى قسمين"

 

Mahra

Sunday- 5:45 AM

Another night passed…. since I fell from the seventh sky and hit the ground; a certain type of feeling swept me up, as I sat there in the sea of my sorrow, losing track of time. I felt as if I was falling or drowning or dying… little by little, with pain, with agony.

But there was nothing I could do, at least for now.

I sighed and rested my head back on the sofa, where I sat from the last couple of hours, ever since Zayed left me alone after asking me to eat. The food that he had ordered, sat, untouched, on the table because along with everything else I had lost my appetite too.

It was raining again tonight with slightly heavy storms. I shivered as I saw, through the rain-soaked window, the flash of a lightning bolt. Wrapping my scarf closely around my shoulders, I pulled my knees up and hugged them. I was cold and I missed my cozy throw and socks back home.

Home, how very distanced and very close that place is!

My eyes closed slowly and I was slipping into a deep sleep, when I heard the clicking of a door, nearby and lifted my eyelids up. It was him; I didn’t have to turn and see to know that, so I stared, not at him but at the window instead. I wished he’d walk past me and leave without me having to face him but he didn’t.

I heard him get closer and stop at a distance. I could feel his eyes on me, on my-dead-self. The only proof of life in me was the blinking of my eyes, which he could see, I think. But why was he here? Did he come to rouse my sad soul again? Can’t he just let me be?

In spite of how we felt about each other and regardless of the intentness and vulnerability of our situation, he chose to take a seat beside me. From the corner of my eye, I saw him sit on the armchair to my right and stretch his left hand on the armrest. I remembered how one day we girls were discussing the beauty and grace of his hands in the office. Now, those very hands were suffocating me to death.

He sat facing the window, just like me. We stayed like that for a long moment; none of us uttering a word. The heavy cloak of silence covered us both…until at length;

“Why me?” were the words running through my mind and now I invoiced them, still staring ahead at the window.

In vain, I waited for his reply but it did not come and so I swallowed the lump in my dry throat, disappointed.

Was the answer to my question too hard or was there no answer at all?

I bit hard on my lip; trying to find the will to speak to the person I despised the most. I forced myself to look at him and saw him staring side-ways at the world outside, half of his face hidden in the darkness.