The Shades of Spring

Epilogue

Two years later

Ayaan spreadeagled on the couch, staring at the luminous stickers that glowed softly in the dark ceiling.
He heard Sidra arrange their mugs on a tray. He heard her soft recitation and the sound of her footsteps in the dark.
The large window was open; the curtain blew in the wind. He strained his ears to pick up any more sounds. Leaving the windows fully open on a night without power made him very apprehensive. If he was alone, he'd enjoy it. But with his wife, he was her protector. Ayaan smiled at the thought
My wife.

Their parents waited an year for them to afford it, then staunchly announced they were sharing the waleema as the couple shouldn't wait for things to fall in place, too long.
You need her. She needs you. You aren't single anymore. Don't wait for everything to settle, Ayaan. Sidra isn't the type to expect you to pull the whole load. I can see it she wants to be with you.
Ayaan knew it too. But he wanted to provide everything for her. Then he took her out for dinner and asked her to be frank with him. She confirmed Mas'ud's words; said she wanted to grow with him. Build with him. Be part of the home just as much as he was.

Then they had the Waleema, moved in to his little room and stayed there until they could afford a house.

It was a modest suburban house close to his office. Yes, he was a practising lawyer. He was mostly hired as a defense attorney, but he did prosecute once in a while. Sidra had recently quit her job at Emerald, but remained friends with the girls from there. Nolan transitioned from Sidra's boss to Ayaan's friend smoothly and Ayaan helped him solve the love web. At thirty-two, Nolan was now married - not to any one from his office - to a girl he met on a trip to Florida. His sister had recently passed.
Sidra often thought she'd have liked to meet the girl.

Sidra sat on the floor next to the sofa with a content sigh.
"Here's your coffee, husband."
"Jazakillah khair wifey." He ran his fingers through her hair and removed the hairband that held her messy bun in place; immediately Sidra held her mug far away from the hair that tumbled around her shoulders.
"Allah....I just tied it up."

Ayaan laughed and sat up in the sofa with Sidra now between his knees. He set down his mug close to her and collected her hair at the back.
"I watched this video on YouTube. Some waterfall braid thing."

"So?" she turned to look at him, but he pushed her face to the front.
"Don't move. It's already dark."
"Then do it after the lights come on."
"Nah. I'm in a mood."
She sipped her coffee with a subtle nod. "Okay. But how much experience do you have?"
"With what?"
"Ladies hair?"
"Zero."
"Ya Allah, Hayati. I get horrible tangles that take forever to work through. Don't do this."
"My poor wifey, wifey, wifey. I sew like a professional seamstress, I don't think this will be a problem."

But of course it was. In five minutes flat, he was trying to brush out the tangles he'd put there while Sidra ran a commentary in the background.
"Kalaas. The hair is gone. Now you'll have a tomboy wife with short hair. Ya Rabbana, this husband of mine. Why do I still let him experiment on me?"
"Okay okay. I'm doing my best. Just don't shake your head."
He brushed urgently but had a nagging feeling he was only making it worse.
"Ayaan, stop," she caught his wrist and drew him to the ground beside her. Sidra took the brush from his hand, pulled all her hair over one shoulder and told him,
"Watch me. This is how you brush a lady's hair in tangles. Okay? Bottom to top."
He went as close as he dared to see how she worked it out.
Suddenly his wife's hands stilled in their motion.
"That's all? But there's a kno-"

Sidra burst out laughing with her head fully thrown back. It was loud and happy and unrestrained. "Your- your- face! That's. So. Funny. Your concen-- tra ---tration!"

"Excuse me for trying to educate myself," he pouted.

"Aww darling. I love you when you pout," she pulled his cheeks.

In that intermittent moonlight, with no other luminous source, with her hair over one shoulder, her hands on his chest and her eyes tearing at the corners because of laughing, Sidra looked so beautiful to his eyes. Perfect. No dressing up. No fancy clothes. Dressed in just an oversized sweatshirt with her pajama pants, his wife could make top models run for their money.
She was real. Her laughter was real. Her presence in his embrace was real.

Life may not be perfect every moment. But in this moment, laughing with his wife till their bellies hurt, sitting on the floor in front of an open window, with the spring flowers scenting their little living room, life was perfect. That second. That frame in time. He had everything he wanted. He had his lady love. A house of their own. A job, no matter how tiring to start with. A big family; Mas'ud, Jameel, Amanah, Sarah, Hamza, Zubayr, Thahani, Thahani's twins and Sarah's husband- Firdouse, were his perfect definition of an imperfect family who stayed together because of love.

He raised her palms to his lips and kissed them softly, "I love you, Hayati."

Sidra smiled and hugged his arm tight. Then with her head against his beating heart, her hands fitting perfectly in his, they stared at the moonlight that spilled on the small porch. She loved her life. Every part of it. Every pain. Every wound. Every colour that spoke every emotion had been part of His perfect plan for her. It had led her to this beautiful view with her beloved.

Things hadn't worked out the exact way she wanted. She had had to make compromises. From paying for her degree to hosting her Waleema, to painting the bedroom to purchasing furniture, she had made compromises..so had he. She learnt that being independent did not mean you had to stand alone. True independence was independence from societal expectations; to do what was right rather than normal. To do what made her happy than what made her look happy. Independence was knowing the only real limits were what Allah put around her. Within that circle, she was free to play like every day was spring.
He created humans as social beings because there was no shame is lending or receiving help. Because humans needed each other. And it was absolutely okay to need a shoulder to lie on once in a while.

They were a young couple. Not very long down the line of marriage and still discovering new rooms in their heart. It was the beginning of their love story.

_____

Ayaan climbed out of bed in the unlit room. He'd seen her at the desk before they went to sleep that night. She had closed the book and came to him after he got out of the shower. But he was still wide awake while his wife slumbered beside him.

He opened the Journal he'd given her on their Nikah night and started to read the entries she had added.
The meeting. The video Sarah recorded. The little details in their daily life she saw as special things.
He read on for most of the night; smiling at times and sniffling at others.
A hand reached over his shoulder and turned to a tagged page in the journal.
Sidra took her rightful place on her husband's lap while his eyes ran over the poem she'd been writing for him.

Forehead to forehead they drew long happy breaths with his arms around her and hers around his. With each other, it was always going to be spring with another flower adding to their garden of life.