To live and to love

➌

The couch was back the next day.

I tried not to think too much about what had transpired and focused on my work. Weeks passed and we stayed in the same song and dance. Twirling and dancing in a deadly tango, afraid to break the pattern, afraid to miss a step. Fearing that the fragile shelter we had built to weather the oncoming storm could collapse at any moment leaving us both vulnerable.

Just two days before Uncle Asghar was set to file my case, Auntie burst into the room, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two of us.

"Rania, beta, I don't know if Salaar has told you but I need to go to a wedding tonight. Ayesha isn't feeling well, would you come with me?"

"I..."

"It won't be long. We'll be back early. You know how Salaar's father can't stay up late," She pushed her hand into mine, holding on for a second. A silent plea.

"It's okay Ammi, I'm sure she's tired from work."

"I know and I hate to tire you out, but I'll be alone. Besides, I want everyone to meet my daughter-in-law."

Salaar opened his mouth to argue further, probably to come up with another excuse, but I stepped in. "I'll go."

Auntie clapped her hands together and left, leaving her son to stare at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused. "She likes you. She would have never done this for Aiman."

Pin drop silence echoed in the room, gently broken by the wind coming in through the open window. Curiosity blazed through me and I extinguished it with herculean effort.

For far too long, Salaar had been known as the divorced sad guy in our office. Not the most creative of labels, but he'd been tagged that for the past three years. No one knew why he was divorced or who his wife had been. He was just the divorced sad IT guy who minded his own business. Getting a name out of him, even accidentally, seemed like a monumental achievement.

I felt like I'd unlocked a previously closed door.

I cleared my throat and opened the cupboard searching for an appropriate dress, knowing I couldn't push him to reveal any details, not now, desperately searching for a safe topic in my head.

He beat me to it.

"Uncle Asghar said that he'll file your case as soon as tomorrow. I'll handle things here. If you want, you could stay at your parent's house at that time."

So much for a safe topic.

A knife-twisting pain hit my gut, and tears stung the back of my nose. The sleeping pills had taken care of the pain during the night, but reminders like these made it all the more intense during the day.

"Is he confident of its merit?" my fingers played with the silky material, transferring their nervous energy on to the cloth.

"We have proof, Rania. There's no way the courts are going to let him go."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," I nodded and went to the bathroom to get ready. It was going to be a long night.

To say that I regretted my decision to go would be an understatement. Auntie paraded me around the venue like a prized peacock. As much as I appreciated the love and acceptance, I hated the judgment I saw in her relatives' eyes. I could see them calculating and drawing comparisons with Aiman. Several of them remarked on the marked differences between us. Auntie had very tactfully handled the situation, but the damage was done. I felt extremely self-conscious. And like an outsider. An imposter.

Me and my niceness.

Even as Auntie and Uncle said their goodnights to me, I couldn't make myself hate them. Or feel annoyed at them. They genuinely cared for their son. And for some inexplicable reason, they thought I was good for their son. A part of the family.