Our secret moments (Fahir)

In my veins

Long time no see everyone! I'm finally back with a fanfic, I'm sorry I took such a long break but I've been going through it (if you won't be able to tell by the vibe of this fanfic lol!). The idea for this came to me when I saw some people on twitter talking about the possibility of the happy ending we got, all being Farah's imagination. So, it got me thinking what if Tahir really died, and Farah did imagine all of it because her mind couldn't cope with his loss? This fanfic explores feelings of grief, denial and the acceptance of death. I cried a lot while writing it and I also used my own personal experience with grief to try and make you (the readers) feel the emotion Farah is feeling as accurately as possible. I still don't know if I like this fanfic or not, but I am looking forward to hearing what you all think <3 ( I promise the next fanfic I write will be happier)
(Also I listened to the song "In my veins" by Andrew Belle while writing this so I recommend it to enhance the reading exeprience <3)

Coldness. The coldness was all she felt as she lay on the floor staring at the blank wall. She didn't know how long she'd been laying there, but she felt unable to move. She couldn't feel her body, she couldn't hear, she couldn't see. The only image before her was that of Tahir's limp body. It wouldn't leave her mind, it was all she could see in front of her when she closed her eyes. She imagined his cold body lying on the floor, his eyes closed and his face pale.

His heart wasn't beating anymore, though she wasn't sure if hers was either. Their hearts were intertwined, the songs of their hearts always beating in synchrony with each other. So, if his wasn't beating, surely hers wasn't either. If his body was cold, no wonder coldness was all she felt. Tahir was a part of her, as much as she was a part of him. Without him here she felt empty, a part of her missing. His love was what ran through her veins, what made her heartbeat. Without it here she can't survive, her heart will stop beating the same way his did.

His voice wouldn't leave her mind, his words soothing even as he lay dying. His need to protect her from any harm or hurt stronger than death itself trying to pull him down with it. She kept hearing the happy quiver in his voice after she'd told him he was going to become a father. That they were going to have a baby. Their baby, their own little spring.

She reached her hand around weakly to touch her belly, as a tear slid down her cheek. A tiny flower blooming inside her belly. This was supposed to be the start of their new life, a new chapter in their story. They were supposed to finally be free from the cold confines of winter. Their tiny flower was going to be the start of their forever spring. Yet the winter only seemed to persist, and she seemed to be trapped inside this icy prison.

She could feel someone trying to move her, trying to get her off the floor but her body felt heavy. She could hear the soothing words of someone telling her that she would get through this. That Kermisah and the baby needed her, that they needed their mom to be strong. Though Farah felt anything but strong at this moment.

She didn't want to be strong anymore, she didn't want to have to endure so much pain all the time. She just wanted everything to stand still and for everyone to be quiet.

She somehow found herself in bed. Her mother and Bade managed to get her up from the floor and get her to their bedroom. Their room. Their bed. His scent lingered all over the pillows and the blanket. As she hugged one of his pillows and inhaled deeply, she found herself calming down. Her eyelids felt heavy, and her body felt so weak. She let sleep take over as his scent enveloped her.

She doesn't remember if she slept well or how she even woke up. The only thing she remembers is the feeling of her mother brushing her hair and singing to her. Her mother used to sing her that same song when she would fall and hurt herself as a child, it always helped when she was in pain. Though the wound of this pain cut much deeper than a scrape on the knee.