She Is My Hayaat

Chapter 49: Paper Flowers

***WARNING: This chapter contains sensitive material, and some readers may not be comfortable reading. Please use caution, and skip parts you cannot handle.***

Thank you and enjoy my lovelies. I cannot believe we have reached the penultimate chapter! This one is to all the ladies who have had the pleasure of tasting the beauty of motherhood in one way or another. Bismillah!

The morning was raw and youthful, the sun just about ready to wake up from its deep and subdued slumber. My hands were cupped in their fragile stature as I held them in front of my wretched face and eyes, and my wedding band and engagement ring wobbled in the midst of my thin finger. The twinkling crystal of hydrogen bonds were noiseless as the crisp Autumn breeze swayed them in their escapade.

I was on my knees, with my slim hands raised in forgiveness and mercy as I whispered the words of tragedy under my breath to Allah, and only He could understand every emotion, every aggravation, and every ending to every beginning. I could hear the crunchy leaves painted with mahogany, mustard, and ebony rustle underneath the balcony of our master bedroom as the sheer linen curtains danced celestially only to bow in prostration.

My words were full of gratitude as each syllable whooshed through my parched and burning lips, and I thanked Allah over and over again for all I was given since the day the Dunya graced into my destiny. I prayed for the happiness of my family and loved ones till the last millisecond of their final breath. I asked my Lord to fill their hearts with forgiveness for me whether I had done them any harm through words, actions, or gestures. I pleaded and cried for their hearts to not be broken, but to understand that I wasn't trying to be selfish in my decision. I knew they'd understand, and I knew they'd eventually forgive me because they loved me.

The early crack of dawn was filled with long bows of Rukuh and Sujood as every heartbeat in the house, including the walls I'd trailed my fingers over and the windows I'd greet the morning with prayed with the last single ounce of strength left for what was to be let go that had been held on to for so long.

I slowly dragged my cold hands over my face. The rogue pink pads of my fingertips skimmed over my lips that had a small smile painted on them as I turned my head to the side.

Izhar stood across the room, right by his half of the bed with his arms by his sides, his hands clenched into fists. I was so absorbed in the realm of destiny and fate that I hadn't even noticed Izhar had come back from praying Fajr at the masjid let alone walking into our lonesome bedroom. I met his somber eyes as my head involuntarily turned to the left, and a small smile couldn't help itself from curling up my lips as my eyes drank in his roguish sight.

His deep cerulean blue and wooden brown eyes pierced through my body even though there were shadows of slaved darkness in the room with the curtains tightly drawn in. His red wine and cherry lips were pursed under his tousled and fearsome hair, a soft halo of light forming around his broad shoulders covered with a mahogany sweater and black buttoned shirt he wore underneath.

"AsSalaamualaikum, you're back," my voice rang through the room with a full blown smile stretched across my sore face.

I had to break the tension between us sooner or later. We were both hurting, and I would not leave him scared and scrounging for answers that he could never find with no one by his side.

"Walaikum asSalaam," his deep and gentle voice cracked the silent walls of our room from the base and all the way to the ceiling as it sent a shiver down my spine into the coral sunrise.

I looked towards the medium lilac Qur'an that sat at the edge of our king-sized bed, waiting for me to turn the delicate pages and finish off what I'd restarted 36 weeks ago. It never took me more than one month to finish the Qur'an if I was studious and kept myself busy with nothing else.