[You can't enjoy this one, whoops.]
— S A W E R A —
I pull the cannula off, move out of bed and refuse the nurse's help when she offers it. Bhai comes and helps me out, not uttering a single word.
God, I hate this. I hate the way they're all suddenly showing they care.
It's not that. I did not do it for their fucking attention.
The nurse scolds me for taking the iv drip off so harshly and I wonder about all the scars my body has at this point.
I look to the washroom and there's no door, there's a fucking curtain.
I'm about to give up when I thank God for having that at least, and pray there's a window.
I get in and there is one. But it's locked.
Despite the fury, I look in the drawers.
"May I help you, Mrs. Khan?"
"Yes," I say, then realise I can't ask for a blade from a nurse, "No,"
The fuck did that Mrs. even mean?
Forced Mrs.
The blade thing didn't even work. I got a stupid scar and most probably some stitches below that bandage.
"What are you looking for, Mrs. Khan?"
I turn around, "Can you—" It's going to come out rude, she doesn't deserve it.
She does, "Leave."
She doesn't move. I look at her.
"Mrs. Khan, I'm here to help—"
"—Stop calling me that and leave right fucking now. The windows are locked, there's no blade in the drawers, I can't harm myself with anything. I don't need your fake concerns, leave."
I try to look for something to break the window with.
"I said leave!" I yell,
Didn't even let a fucking door so I could dehydrate myself to death.
I don't know and I don't care if she leaves or not at this point.
I throw the brushes, the combs, the toothbrush holder around but they are all plastics and don't make enough noise to satisfy my inner feelings.
I look in the cabinets and they're all empty.
I just want a simple and easy death.
The only way to die now is hitting my head on the wall.
"Sawera?" I hear my brother after hitting it once.
I realize this is very loud and slow.
I compose myself and get out to let him know I wasn't doing any stupidity.
Maybe then they'll trust me enough and let me out of the hospital.
"When can we leave?" I ask him and I'm sure he doesn't even want to take me with him.
For fuck's sake, if I am such a big burden then let me end myself, how are they not okay with any of the alternatives?
It's all my parents' mistake for having started with this shit. Why would they give birth to me when they didn't like each other?
It's all my father's mistake for stopping mama from aborting me.
Even though he didn't want a daughter. It's so against his culture. It makes him an inferior man.
Why would he stop mama then?
"How are you?" his eyes hold unspilt tears.
I'd rather be a burden on papa for the forced birth than be one on any of these. They don't deserve it.
"I don't know," I look for my clothes.
I need to leave.
"Is dad out there?"
He shakes his head, "He had a meeting,"
I watch him for a second, then nod.
Of course, of course even if it is a small meeting it's a million times more important.
He realises what he just said and tries to cover it up, "I mean—"
"I don't care. I need to get out of this hospital."
"You haven't recovered yet—"
"—Recovery my foot, I don't care. I don't want it. I hate this word. I'm going to relapse, I don't give a fuck. Let's be honest, none of you care." I walk to the bag.
None of them care and I shouldn't either.
"We all do, you're blind," he takes the bag from me, "you're not going anywhere."
I watch him,
He continues, "You have um, a psychiatric evaluation in half an hour. They'll decide if you can go home after it."
I can't do this.
I'm so fucking sick of everyone having an eye on me. I'm not crazy.
I feel dizzy and walk to the bed.
I don't remember anything, I just know I don't reach it.
~~~
After hours of sitting in silence and nodding and shaking my head at everything, I see it's been twenty-four hours since I last saw Azaan.
No divorce papers have reached me.
I'm about to ask bhai for his phone when I realize he's not like Azaan. He has his privacy, his chats, his gallery. It'd not be okay.
I'd have to say it out loud.
But he'll never listen to me.
Why does— Why not? Why would anyone not like Azaan more than me?
"Bhai?" It comes out low. I'm sick of clearing my throat every once in a while.
"Huh?" He moves to me as quickly as possible.
"Do you like Azaan?"
He wonders where that came from but nods, "why?"
"More than you like me?"
"No, of course not."
"Right? Because why would you? You've always been there for me. I've known you for longer—"
"I love you, Sawera,"
"But it must be tiring to always be there, right? Like, whenever I called you I never thought you had your own life, you were always, always there—"
"It isn't tiring. If you had called me before all of this, I'd still have appeared in seconds."
"No, but I don't want to trouble— that's not the point. I, I don't want to live with Azaan anymore. I need a lawyer."
His eyes don't move. His eyebrow softly does after a few seconds. "A lawyer?"
"Yea," I fiddle the hair tie in my fingers, "You know what I mean. I've thought of it for months. He's a nice person but I can't use him— that, that five hundred million haq meher? Tell him I don't want it. I don't want any of that. He's done enough for me."
"Sawe—"
"—No, I don't wanna hear it. I don't want to be in his life."
"But do you want him in your life?"
I look at him and shake my head,
"I don't want him with me."
"You'll break his heart."
"No, he doesn't want me either. Mama said all of this was embarrassing for him and he's definitely upset with me right now."
"He's very mature—"
"—I still don't want him. Bhai, please. Please don't force me into a life I don't want. Do you want me to end up like mama?"
He watches me for a while and shakes his head, getting up.
"Don't tell him yet. Just call him here to sign the papers. I don't want him to convince you—"
"I won't listen to him. But promise me you'll get better if I get you divorce. You'll change your life, you'll start afresh, you'll get out of all this mess and live again."
I nod, "I promise."
"I'll try," he leaves.
~~~
I gush my eyes out as every single memory comes to me. I don't want this. I want him.
He has ruined my whole life.
Bhai walks in, "The lawyer's free this evening, Azaan's phone's busy—"
Before he can complete his sentence his phone rings,
I watch his screen before he picks it up, and my heart skips a beat.
He puts it on speaker and I hear Azaan, "Hello? How is she?" before I click on the speaker.
I shake my head, "I don't want to hear him,"
"She's fine," bhai answers walking away, "Azaan, she wants to end it with you, I guess you must know it by now,"
Agh, he'll now try to pull bhai to his side.
"No, I think she's right. This is not working. She deserves a better life—"
"—Bhai??" Why the fuck would he say that? Azaan gave me the best life possible.
He looks at me and I shake my head, let it be. Let Azaan think I'm selfish. Maybe it's better.
"If that can make her happier then I will obviously support her."
I wipe the tears away.
"Azaan, I've sent you the address, you need to be there by the evening," He looks at his phone. "He cut the call."
"What?"
"Don't worry, one person can divorce the other. You can sign the papers and the lawyer will let us know what to do next."
"No. I want both of our signs on it. I want him to move on a— bhai, I can't do that. That's khula, not talaaq, I— can I talk to him?"
"Are you sure?" He gives me his phone and I dial his number.
"Hello? Azaan?"
"Sawera, think whatever you want. I'm not doing that. You don't know the consequences of it."
He has this deep raspy voice that I've heard once before, he had it the morning after the night I told him about the Cade incident.
And there's this restlessness slightly audible.
"Cool," I shrug, "it's either this life without you or no life at all."
"What do you mean?"
"The second I get out of here I'm killing myself." I cut the call.
~~~
Azaan appears in no more than two hours.
"Sawera, I'm sick of these stupidities. You're coming home with me."
"No."
"Yes, you are."
"I've said it all on the phone. There's no need of more discussion."
"Have you lost the fucking plot? There's no way back. The day you get healthy enough you'll regret this and you'll not be able to come back."
"I don't care."
"Sawera, are you fucking with me, do— you told me to warn you when you're being irritating right? Shut up and pack." He walks to the bags and I bhai comes in.
"The psychiatric evaluation has not been done yet," He says.
"Bhai?" He said he'd support me what is he doing?
"Oh, and no you're not taking her with you."
Azaan pauses, "She's my wife and I might have asked for your help in the past, thank you for it but right now you're not to talk between us."
"Azaan? What the fuck? How are you talking to—"
"Sawera, shut it. I don't want to hear anything."
I look at bhai, "Can you let us in our privacy for a while, please?"
He leaves.
"He's my brother, Azaan."
"I'm your husband, Sawera."
"Not after 5PM."
"You're my wife as long as I will."
"You can't talk to him in that manner and no. Yes, of course you have cameras all around but you can't have me bound 24/7. I don't want to be with you and that's final."
"Sawera if I— if khudanaakhaasta we end it and someday things get better, you'll have to marry another man and— no. You don't get it. It's not as simple. Such things are no joke."
"I'll never want to remarry you."
"There's a long life ahead, InShaAllah. And you're destined to be with me. My love for you wasn't written for a year."
"You have no love for me—"
"—Do not anger me. Leave the topic. It's not going to happen. Forget it."
"Forget me."
"Tsk. Sawera, divor— it's not that simple. I know we both love each other and in a few days you'll regret immensely. And there'll be no coming back. You'll khudanaakhaasta have to marry another man, and not with the purpose of having him divorce you. You'll have to— I can't, I really can't and don't want to imagine another man around you, let alone— what you're saying—"
"—I know. I want to leave without any return ticket. I don't want to ever be in your life, Azaan. Nothing should repeat itself."
"I love you and I know you love me, there's no reason but your built-up imaginations that don't let you accept the fact. The act you want me to do is disliked by Allah."
"We've been fighting on this for this whole time that we've been married for. You've always said you love me and shown you don't. It's not time for any of that anymore. Even if I regret it, this is what is better for the both of us."
"Sawera I do love you. No one can thurst that thought into your head. You have to nod to it or not but the truth stays the truth. I can swear on the Quraan if you want me to. I don't know how else to prove it."
"I don't care if you love me. That's not a solid basis on why we should stay married."
Even before I utter it out, I get how stupid what I'm saying is.
"I mean, there's more to a marriage and we don't have that."
"We have everything, you're only lacking a brain."
"Of fucking course that Kylie is smarter than me. Go marry her after you've divorced me."
"Where the fuck did she come from?"
I become a crying mess at the way he's still concealing it,
A nurse comes in to check on me and I don't bother to wipe my tears away, she tells us she'll come back in half an hour.
I love him so much, it pains to even think of divorce but it was destined to happen since the very first day.
"Ssh, it's okay. I—"
"—No matter how many days pass I'll not change my mind. The more you delay it, the harder it will be for both of us."
"It's not happening. Do whatever on earth you want."
He kisses my temple and I want to hold him next to me forever but he leaves.
~~~
And days pass.
Bhai has brought me to his apartment. I've seen it once before and it's really pretty. I'm happy for him.
It's been awful though. I feel like I'm burdening him so much. He doesn't even have any fault.
At least I can blame papa for not letting mama abort me and Azaan for signing the marriage contract, but bhai? He has done nothing.
This stupid nurse that doesn't let me out of her sight has frustrated me to the core. The first day she said she'd even accompany me to the washroom.
It took us hours and we agreed I'd not close the door but she'd not enter unless I were taking more than ten minutes.
When I'm taking a shower the shower curtain is the only privacy I have.
It's been four days since I last had anything down my throat except for water, and the feeling is making me relapse.
Bhai has warned me multiple times that he'll drag me to the hospital and the nurse has now called Azaan and told him to consider divorce.
I hear the bell and blink my eyes properly. I need to look awake and energetic.
A servant opens the door.
Bhabhi?
I get up, as I see her coming in with her son.
Azaan's brother comes through the door to leave the stroller and goes back.
"Abyan, meet your chaachi. Sawera, meet your nephew, Abyan."
She always has this happy energetic bubble around her. It makes me and everyone around her happier.
"Ew, not chaachi. Not even aunty. He better call me by my name."
She laughs and sits down, smiling extra at the nurse who's still here.
She walks to the kitchen, far away, so she can't hear us but she can see me.
"She's so creepy, I swear I wake up and see her staring into my soul."
Bhabhi laughs, "Anyway, if your brother's single I have a friend." She says, looking around the house.
I snort, "He seems like a Salman Khan fan."
"How are things going? How do you feel now?"
I nod, "better, I'll feel even better after your devar divorces me."
"He won't. Sawera, he really won't. I know him very well, he loves you and you both are meant for each other. I can see it in your eyes."
"Bhabhi... Promise me you won't tell him anything I tell you."
"I promise."
"I've never felt loved.
Do you know how it started? In the beginning he was rude, then he got sweet for a a month or so but I saw him with his secretary and we had a few arguments and I thought of why a man would go out and look for other women when he already has one at home.
You can convince me as much as you want but I knew I wasn't enough. If I were, he'd give me his time and— ugh anyways, so I tried to be like, fitter you know, because I had partied a lot before our wedding and that had made me gain weight.
Now I know it is body dysmorphia because people that don't even know I've starved for months have told me that I looked underweight when I thought I was overweight— I don't know how to feel about that and let it be, please don't comment on that.
Okay, then I went to my birthday party and I... God bhabhi please don't make a scene, I had an incident with a wrong guy, like he tried to misbehave and I couldn't sleep for two days, I felt the need to tell Azaan all of it because maybe he'd not want me if he knew that. Like I felt like I was deceiving him by keeping it a secret. And when I did and he took a leave to sit down with me he discovered about my unhealthy habits and Dr. Samina...
I've felt like ending it all way too many times. I remember how awful it used to be. Azaan helped me very much in recovering, he has a brilliant patience and I'm sure with all the therapies, I'm hopefully not ever going to fall that bad in depression but the thing is, I won't ever be able to love him, or anyone for that matter, I'll never be able to love anyone freely.
I'll always have the thought of what if he doesn't actually love me and he's only acting in the back of my mind. Always.
And Azaan doesn't deserve that, bhabhi, he deserves so much better than what he has received from me in the past few months.
And no he's not in love with me. It's the guilt of ruining my mental health that is forcing him to help me out."
She slowly nods, processing it all.
Abyan's sleeping. And he's really cute.
"I just, I want to see him happy. And don't be kind and talk about my happiness. I'll be happy once I see him happy."
"It took him so many years to find you, you think he'll find anyone else?"
"There are plenty of girls on this planet if you stop looking for high class families."
She nods, "And it'll be easy for you to see him move on."
I shake my head, "Have you watched Jab Tak Hai Jaan? I don't mind being Akira. Even though I'm nowhere even close to reuniting him with his lover. I'm only getting out of the way, but I hope that makes him realise who he truly belongs to."
"And what if, instead, you just tried to love yourself and understand that you're no lesser than any other woman he could fall in love with?"
"We have had very happy times after the rock bottom. I could never properly feel his love for me no matter how hard I tried. It's an irreparable damage but! don't worry about it. I'll keep on trying. But if while trying, the guilt and pressure of wasting his time stays by me then I know I won't be able to gain even a bit of confidence in myself."
"Why don't you just separate? Divorce is too harsh. You'll have to marry someone else and consummate your marriage with that other man before you can return to Azaan."
"That's the good part. He won't want me anymore. He'll know there are no chances. He'll only have one option and that'll be to move on."
Bhabhi gives it a thought, "You know what? You're right. I'll talk to Azaan about it."
My heart sinks.
She wasn't supposed to say that.
She was supposed to support Azaan.
She was supposed to tell me that we belong together no matter what the relationship has been like. She was supposed to convince me for longer.
Stop it, Sawera.
"Really? Will you?"
I've been so wrong to bhabhi.
"Bhabhi, I love you so much."
"Yea, and your divorce won't come in between our friendship."
I've spent some very nice moments with bhabhi and Palwasha.
I don't want to lose them.
Even though I've already lost Palwasha.
Our conversation shifts to trivial topics and I don't know when I notice myself chewing the third donut.
She was eating and somehow I forgot and started eating as well.
~~~
His already dull face pales down a bit more when he sees me.
He sits on the chair next to mine.
"Sawera I fucking love you. Please don't do this."
Bhabhi succeeded in convincing him.
I have ready to spill tears in my eyes and I know just one look at him will make my eyes spurt it all.
The lawyer reads all the clauses and has us both sign. Since he's the one apparently demanding divorce, he's told to sign first. He takes the pen and when it all goes through his head, he drops it and gets up.
He takes a walk to think of it one last time.
I know how hard it is. I've spent nights crying. Acknowledging that I'll never be able to cuddle with him. I won't ever feel the warmth of his arms. Those mornings where I realised we were awkwardly tangled and feigned asleep to not cause more awkwardness? I'll never have those again.
I won't be able to tease him with my nosepin nor will he ever be able to whisper me things in my ear.
A painful laugh escapes my lips.
We won't Netflix & Chill. He thought it was a verb.
I want to back away. I want to stop this right now. I want all of that.
But I watch him sign. And I sign.
"Say it, please." I hiss, knowing how bad I'll cry when I reach home.
I won't be able to go to our apartment anymore. I won't be able to think of an Abyan of our own.
He looks at me with raged eyes, "Talaaq,"
Wallah only I and Allah know what way I'd fall down and rip my heart with the piercing tears were I not already sitting.
"taalaq,"
He watches me, waiting for me to stop him.
My breath stops at my throat. It's suffocating me. All the memories too. They're too much.
He studies my face, he'll never be able to look at it again.
"talaaq."
He leaves and I wail out loud, as if the divorce papers will drown in my tears and it'll all undo itself. Or as if my loud crying will weaken the volume and the power of his words.
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