Puranay Rastay ✓

chapter ‣ 24

My old friend, the moon, waited for me. I'm sorry I was away for so long, I wanted to say. I thought I had finally found happiness. I thought I no longer needed your companionship.

The sounds of the night spoke back to me. We knew you'd come back.

"I wish I didn't have to," I said out loud, feeling the cold cement of the walls.

I had thought that being able to love Rida freely would be enough. I was wrong. I wanted her love too. I needed it. When we had only been cousins, loving her came with no expectations. Whatever I did, I did because I wanted to. But now having her as a wife, I had become selfish even without realizing.

A part of me reminded me that I knew what I was getting into before I said qabool hai. Back then I had thought having her by my side would be enough.

When did I begin to want her heart too? I guess you could step into any relationship with the best of intentions, with the strongest resolve to be selfless, but sooner or later you did start wanting things back; even in the smallest capacities.

Was wanting Rida to move on, to forget Aqib, too selfish?

I stared at the sky to check for clouds. My cheeks were moistening but there was no sign of rain.

Whoever had said love was euphoric, was wrong. Love was messy and testing and painful.

"I'm so sick of this love that comes with jagged edges," I said out loud, hearing my voice crack. My shoulders felt weighed by tonnes, my body slowly crumbling to the floor. I'm so sick of this love. I'm so, so very sick.

When the ribbons of dawn began to color the sky, I picked myself up and returned home.

I tucked my suit jacket under my arm as I carefully unlocked the front door and slipped into the dark flat. Light filtered out of my mother's bedroom, illuminating the mattresses strewn across the living room carpet, where my young cousins slept. I tiptoed across and very gently opened the door to my bedroom.

I wasn't sure what the logistics of last night had been, when I hadn't returned home, but I didn't want to draw unnecessary attention and make my mother or anyone, question why I had been missing all night.

Inside, I found Rida sitting on the bed, still in the bridal clothes she had worn at the Walima. Her head rested on the headboard, chin up in the air and a stream of drool running down her cheek.

She had waited for me, I realized.

I steeled myself before my heart grew soft. She did things like these and made me fall in love more.

After changing into casual clothes, I grabbed a prayer mat to take with me upstairs, and then called out to her.

"Fajr's getting late, parh lo." Her eyes shot open at the sound of my voice. "Fajr's getting late," I repeated.

"Khaled, can we talk?" She said, her early morning voice raspy.

"I think you should pray first," I offered, stepping away from her.

She reached out to grab my arm. "Khaled, listen–"

"The others are sleeping outside," I warned. "I don't want a scene."

"I..." she began to say, but stopped.

I studied her face. Remnants of make up were still there from last night. Did she not even wash her face?

Finally, Rida nodded and got up to go to the restroom.

Her silence was what I wanted, but it still hurt me somehow. I wanted her to fight me, to plead to me, to tell me how much I meant to her, and how my being cross was driving her crazy. At the same time, with how angry and disappointed I was, I wanted her to be as far away from me as she could.