HOLDING YOU

Chapter 43- I Used To Love Him

I finish the work and rush to Kabir's cabin. I hope he's fine. I knock on the door. It's a habit, I open it before he can respond. He's sitting on his chair, his face is in his hands and he runs his hands through his face to his hair in frustration. He looks at me and puts up a smile, pretending to be fine. I decide not to confront him about his feelings directly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He says in a soft, tired voice.

"Care to come home with me?" I look at him. He stays quiet for a while and carefully responds.

"Sure."

"We'll take your stuff from your place."

"You want me to stay?" He sounds confused.

"You need to stay." I give him a knowing smile. He frowns.

"I do, actually."

We leave, get his things from his place and go home. Myra is sleeping. I go to the kitchen to cook us something quick, I start chopping things and Kabir goes in to freshen up. He comes into the kitchen after some time and takes the knife from my hand.

"You go and change, I can take it from here."

"You sure, as you wanna cook right now?" I ask him, a little shocked.

"I've had a beautifully horrible day, I need good food." He jokes. I swat his arm.

"Fuck off. I cook better than you." I glare at him.

"No, you don't." He winks at me and starts cooking. I huff and leave the room. Well... I hate to admit it, but he's right. He does cook better, much better. I go into the shower and all I can think about is how to get him to speak his mind. How do I let him get this huge weight off his chest? I wear a dress and as I open the door of my room, I feel amazing. The whole house is a mixture of delicious fragrances. Melted chocolate, sauteed garlic and so much more... I take a deep breath in an attempt to taste the smell of whatever he's cooking. I walk into the kitchen and see him stirring some broccoli while sipping on his wine. I go near the oven and sniff the chocolate something he's baking.

"What's inside?"

"Chocolate cake." He smiles.

"Why?" I ask him while wrapping my arms around his chest from behind.

"I was missing mum... Thought the baking would help." He smiles. My heart aches for him.

"Did it help?"

"What?"

"The baking?"

"Yeah... Surprisingly, it did."

"I'm hungry." I chuckle.

"No sex before marriage."

"Aye, I'm hungry. 'I need food' kind of hungry."

"Oh." He giggles.

We have the amazing food Kabbie cooked and then slip into bed. I lie on my back against the headboard and he rests the back of his head on my chest, his body laying between my legs and his back on my stomach. I play with his hair for some time and he traces the lines on the palm of my right hand. I can't see his face, only the top of his head is in view. We stay in silence for a long, it's weirdly nice. I notice his hair has grown a little long, maybe he wants to get some shaggy kinda hairstyle or...

"I used to love him," Kabir whispers. I stay quiet, wanting him to continue. He does.

"Things were never like this before. It was never me and my mum." He sits up in front of me and puts a pillow on his lap.

"It was me and dad. The two of us. The best team in the world... I remember him taking me to preschool, we used to eat frozen yogurt on our way back. Everyday. Even in the winters in London, there was this one old man who used to open his shop every day. Dad would tell me a lot about numbers, he would teach me tables, you know Siyu, I could recite tables till twenty in a go when I was six. I loved numbers. He used to love me... He used to love mum. Very much. There was a time I felt like the luckiest kid in the whole world." He smiles as he cherishes the past. But, a frown takes over his smile, quickly.

"He started getting stressed due to work or something. It wasn't too bad in the beginning, he would come home, make some snarky comments and go to bed. But, then things escalated, and they got worse. He started coming home drunk, he would shout at mum and god knows what else... Mum would always tell me to go upstairs into my room. I would hear them yell and scream. There would be loud noises. I knew he used to hit her, the only thing that stopped me from living with that truth was that this man was my hero. He was my everything, I loved him a lot. I used to tell myself that things will get better. And my world turned upside down the day I thought it was all finally over." I look at him and his expression is dark. It doesn't hold a good vibe, his features resonate with the nightmare he's about to pour into my ears. I gulp.

"One day, there was complete silence at home. I came downstairs and looked at the couch. Dad was sitting there. Drunk and angry. I still loved him, I wanted him to hug me, kiss me, play with me, recite tables with me. I wanted my father back, I wanted him to love me. I ran to my room and grabbed the most attractive maths book from my shelf. I was nine back then... I rushed down to the hall and stood in front of my dad.

"Dadda look, my new practice book. Will you help me with it?" I asked him with a cheerful expression. Determined to get my father back. He shrugged. The smell of alcohol filled my lungs, I almost choked but kept smiling. At the monster, who was my hero.

"Where'd you get it from little one?"

"Mum bought it for me." I smiled, seeing him interested in the conversation. I looked at him and I was terrified. Dad snatched my favourite book from me and tore it into pieces in front of my eyes.

"Please, dad. Leave my book. It's my favourite."

"Dadda no!"

"I'm sorry Dadda." I didn't know what exactly I was apologizing for. My mum walked in. And that was the day, I lost the child in me. My dad grabbed her hair and choked her neck against the wall. She struggled to breathe. I started crying out of terror. I heard words like "whore", "bitch", "slut", and whatnot. He brutally hit her in front of me and fell asleep on the couch. I kept crying in a corner. I couldn't believe my eyes. My hero... He couldn't do this. He shouldn't have... I stared at my mum. I didn't know whether she was dead or alive. They eventually divorced." He sighs, wiping his moist eyes. I feel bad for him.

"How am I supposed to love this man? How am I supposed to forgive him?" He whispers.

"I don't know, Kabir. I don't have words." I whisper. He sniffs and looks at me. I climb on his lap and hug him tightly. We eventually fall asleep.