The Shades of Spring

Fragile Hearts

The third time he tried to plank, he instantly fell on his side.
Ayaan hated the limitations on his physical movements imposed by the damaged ribs. But obviously, falling on it was not helping matters.

He heaved himself up and tried again; this time he lasted seven seconds longer than his record. Mas'ud was typing on his laptop while overlooking his son's work out session to make sure he didn't exert himself beyond necessity.
"That's the fourth time you fell on your side this week, Ibrahim. Do it again and I'll tie you to the bed for the whole of next week."

"Father, father, father," Ayaan stopped rubbing his side; it still hurt, but then pride is more fragile when you've been warned multiple times. "You must be proud of your son's physical prowess. Even after someone handed him his sore posterior."

"I can't fathom why you think talking about it like that is funny, Ayaan. Do you want to go at him again?"

"Maybe," he replied a tad bitterly but hastily changed his tone before Mas'ud commented on it. "Anyway. The potential groom you were talking to, how's it going?"

"I'm not very happy with it. He's the same age as her and sort of a workaholic. But everything else is passable."

"Don't look for passable, Papa. Look for good. Look for excellent. That's what our girl deserves."

"Yes...." Mas'ud turned the laptop screen toward Ayaan who was on his eighteenth push up. "This is his face. Does he look twenty nine?"

Ayaan stopped mid-pushup with his arms rigid and palms flat against the mat, "He looks okay for his age. Obvio, Sara looked younger than him. But Papa? Don't settle for a workaholic. We need someone who will give her due attention."

"Then, Sir, why not you help me instead of jacking yourself up like you're going into enforcement not law?"

"Papa!" Ayaan grumbled. "Don't give me the evil eye. I'm building muscle to defend you from the boogeyman under my bed."

"Grow up," Mas'ud tossed the first item he found, at Ayaan and immediately regretted the decision when he realised it was a paperweight. But Ayaan rolled away before it hit him, picked up the weight and held it to his forehead. "Papa. Papa. You hit me. Oww. How rude!"

"Now I really wish it hit you," the father mumbled and walked away with Ayaan's voice floating after him
"I KNOW YOU DON'T PAPA!"

Twenty more push-ups and heavy leg workout later, he tucked the mat under his arm and went back to his room to shower and change. Standing in front of the mirror wearing three-quarters and the wet towel slung around his neck, his pensive gaze scanned his reflection.

His torso was peppered with tiny scars from the fight which the nurses were sure would fade soon. But among them, a thin white line started on his left and sharply angled to the centre of his diaphragm, just above another shorter one which more or less started from the same place. A million times he may have wondered how John gave it to him, but failed every time unless he left room for a knife he missed. Ayaan never took his shirt off in front of Sara anymore after he once saw her quietly turn her tear filled eyes away from him. Under her pretence of toughness, Sara had a very soft heart. The largest part of her reason for acting apathetic was because she was too afraid to bare that soft heart to strangers. Every Tahajjud, Ayaan never forgot to make Dua for his sister's marriage.

Shaking his wet head and spraying the mirror in the process, he checked for emails from the places he applied to. Two of the law schools in Tenesk sent their sincere apologies for not having a spot for him and one from Crest Falls had sent him a similar email. How can you not have a seat for a valedictorian? he questioned the screen. Both other places had warmly welcomed him to an open day in their schools and quoted deadlines for his confirmation; one on the 16th another the 18th. He checked both websites with a critical eye for details and information on alumni he could check out. Satisfied that neither choice was weak, he joined his father in the kitchen to discuss the prospective colleges.
As far as Mas'ud was concerned, The Saint Laurent School of Law, Tenesk, South was the better of the two options. Apart from the decorated history of the school, it was also close to home which would mean Ayaan could cut back on accommodation charges. Every penny saved would eventually come back to him. Orham Castors Law School back in Crest Fall was reputable in its own right but the catch was in the high boarding charges applied on students who didn't have accomodation of their own.

Gradually, twilight dropped her curtain around him, rousing thoughts he successfully locked up during the day. One by one, his chaotic feelings returned with a forceful fervour he feared that sleep would again evade him. On long nights as such, when the world around him succumbed to blissful sleep, his thoughts grew loud to fill that silence. His heart ached queerly at the thought of not seeing his friends again after everything they went through together. He had visited Musa but once after his wedding and subsequently saw no more of Hafsa. Kevin stuck around loyally to help him pack up like the brother he never had. He tried not to think of Sidra because once her name crossed his mind, there was no climbing out of the avalanche that rocked the chambers of his heart.

It had taken him weeks away from her, but at last, he resigned to fate. That constriction of his heart when thinking of driving away from her had meant she was special in a way he was too scared to hope. He liked Sidra Jameel more than friend. He wanted to grow old with her, he wanted to see her smile and know he was the reason, he needed to know she would hold tight to him in Jannah. Long before they'd fought on the same side, she had impressed him in ample ways with such beautiful ethics and intelligence. To him, she was a queen among women. A gem only pious eyes would notice in a world filled with coloured glass crystals. Sidra was everything he secretly hoped for in his future spouse. She was also unattainable.
To be fair, he'd come to terms with his feelings only very recently and had no inkling of how she would receive it, but this little voice in his head told him she wouldn't appreciate it. He wondered what would hurt more- living with the regret of not pursuing the girl who bewitched his soul, or to have her break down the altar of a sacred room in his fragile heart. He knew she wouldn't be inconsiderate or rude, but to ask that question would probably be to put her in a difficult situation of deciding if she could or couldn't anymore have that subconscious link to a comrade.

In every novel he had ever read, Ayaan rolled his eyes at conflicted lovers who were too afraid to confess their feelings for fear of losing the friendship they had with the person they'd unknowingly fallen in love with. Life was ironic to him now.

The worst part was he had no one to talk about it to. As much as Mas'ud was trying now, Ayaan wasn't yet comfortable to talk to him about it, because his father still lacked in the field of deciphering human feelings. On the other hand, Sara was finally open to the idea of marriage after years of running away from the topic. He did not want to risk hurrying her ahead just so he could follow his heart. He figured involving his love life wasn't very wise when his mind was still having trouble at mending. It just wasn't the right time.

The unruly organ caged in his ribs told him every obstacle that stood in his way to winning Sidra was entirely worth negotiating for a girl like her. But his rational thoughts advised caution. He had no one to turn to. He wished he had his mother.
At last, he carried his problems to the only place he knew to guarantee peace; the Musallah. He rolled out the rich fabric and called out to The Owner of The Arsh, begging for guidance.

Ya Allah.
You alone know the state of my heart. You alone know how much it is carrying behind the smiles. You alone know how many tears are shed before I can draw a smile for the benefit of the ones I love. You know everything about me even I don't know.
And You alone know how I feel about her. You know how hard I tried to subdue it. You know my fears and my insecurities. And You alone have the power to heal me. Show me, My Rabb, the path to peace. You are The Only One I cannot live without. Therefore make my heart independent of such dangerous thoughts.
If she is meant for me, then move her heart toward me. If she isn't, then move my heart away from her.