Gentle Reminder- Always strive to be a good human no matter what. Aim to be better than you were the day before.
Le update ☺️ Hope you are all doing great and staying warm this winter. Also praying your school/uni breaks are restful- sending positive vibes your way. Stay safe 🤍
Does anyone have some good published and factual islamic knowledge book recommendations? Inbox me or leave some recs in the comments, I would love to read some new ones 🤓
Also, I am going through your messages now, I will respond as soon as I can. Thank you always for your support and patience❤️
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"We should open it together," I suggest, staring at the key seated on his palm.
"Yeah?" Adam turns his head to the side in amusement as if to taunt me.
"Never mind," my cheeks blister with warmth at my childish suggestion; the act seemed to hold a lot more sentimental value in my head.
"It's a good idea," he validates and proceeds to grab my hand until we are both leaned over to open the door.
I inwardly gasp as we are welcomed into an apartment that spans further than my parents' house. The scenic window towards the center overlooks what appears to be an ocean of bright downtown buildings and traffic lights. I almost loose sense of my surroundings as I marvel over the infinite lively view that stages itself among clouds. A rush of emotion well along my eyes as I finally appreciate the rose petals, peonies, and candles that embrace us towards the master bedroom. Adam's hand guides me to a bed smothered by balloons, petals, and gift bags of all flavors and sizes. The large helium congratulations along the ceiling overpowers the massive king sized bed.
My cheeks fall victim as they cushion the abuse of this incomprehensible happiness. As I turn towards Adam to question the cliché of this set up, he already returns my unasked question before I can even mutter a word.
"Mum did most of it," he chuckles and rubs the back of his neck to mask his embarrassment and fumbling masculinity.
"It's perfect," I allow my eyes to greedily capture the molding of colors and shapes that further fuel my erratic breathing.
"You're perfect," he inches closer with a mischievous smile and before my isolated mind can comprehend his intentions, I am lifted off the ground and spun at a speed my eyes can't marathon.
Everything swims by me; the lights outside our sizeable window marinate with the scent of flowers and cologne. I find myself involuntarily laughing at how liberated I feel; a glowing of joy evolves with every turn. It isn't long before I look down at him staring up at me in awe that my smile transforms irrevocably fast into blaring embarrassment.
"Put me down please."
"If you say so," he teases and then proceeds to gently place me onto the bed until I am held captive between the gifts and his hovering arms around my head.
I stare at his face, structured to perfection, every angle. His eyes return to the same darkness, the endless desire that consumed him not more than a couple hours ago. It exists again, but this time, the intensity overflows as lava. I watch as he licks his lips and for a brief moment, I contemplate the mold. When that brief period of weakness subsides, I bath my senses into an ice bath.
I bite my cheek and turn my face to the side.
"I have to use the rest room," I divert to console my heart.
There is a period of silence, thick and warm despite the circumstance. I feel him exhale softly, his breath is fresh and comforting against my face. His body bends and then elevates until he's towering beside me.
"It's over there," he points with a genuine smile before brushing his hair to the back.
"Mum hung some clothes for you if you want to change into something more comfortable," he directs me to the almost empty walk-in closet.
"You want anything from the convenience store?" He suddenly asks while I glide my eyes over the contents Cici purchased.
"Advil," I quickly blurt, my head still embraced among the sky's feathers.
"Why, you okay?" he returns while the keys battle their cries in between his fingers. My entire body heats up at the concern in his voice.
"Yeah, just," I point to my stomach through a nervous laugh and his eyes understand in an instant.
"I'll be back in a bit," his scent leaves with him until only a trace of its remnant confides in the emptiness that follows.
My eyes widen at the suggestive articles behind the various silk pajamas and lounge wear. I feel my cheeks reinflame as I quickly situate them in their place and pick up the loose black sleep set.
The bathroom is a mass of marble, spacious enough to follow the echoes of my voice. I allow my eyes to roll to the back of my head as I step along the heated floors towards the central shower. I fumble through my purse for my hygiene products and settle for the toiletry products that Cici must have placed along the shower's limbs. I then set sail to the grim of the day's events in saturated heat.
I eventually return to noises from the television and a brief view of Adam's legs sprawled across the coffee table in the living room. I gulp and adjust the towel over my head while contemplating my next move. After enough torment, I run back to the bathroom to blow dry my hair and attempt at a nighttime skin care routine with the limited resources I have. And by limited, I mean water.
I stare back at the light brunette length that frames my face and follows along my shoulders to the back. I try to tease it as best as I can but it remains as limp as it was when it was wet. In the heat of my frustration, I carry its entirety to the back and place it into a bun, careful to linger a couple of strands in front of my ears. After reapplying my lip gloss, I take deep breaths and stroll casually into the pitch darkness of the main seating area.
I hear him straighten on the couch almost automatically and then see him proceed to mute the screen. I busy myself in search for a glass. It isn't long before I feel his eyes lingering at my every move. The nerves return.
"I put some water bottles in the fridge," he voices in subtle distraction. The sudden closeness of noise makes me jump.
"Okay," I try to slow my pace, but it isn't much of a task.
I quickly walk past the dimly lit kitchen and into the living room where the TV's images flicker along the furniture. Adam's head migrates from the admiration of his hands to steady in solitaire as his back grazes against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. I distract myself from his unwavering gaze by sitting along the furthest part of the couch to take a couple sips of the water.
"Do you remember when you wanted to dye your hair pink," he suddenly recalls, the amusement flowers in his tone.
"In fourth grade," I roll my eyes while returning the water bottle back to its place.
"I'm curious now, were you thinking of a light pink or..." he starts laughing, a deep throated melody I could never accustom to.
"No, I wanted the full effect- hot pink," I share in his laughter, my cheeks blooming.
"Even after I begged mama, she wouldn't allow it," I add as the silence returns.
He walks over to me, slowly and carefully, his eyes never missing mine. I feel the goosebumps elevate, my heart returns to its home in my throat.
"I'm glad she didn't," he gently caresses a strand of my hair, his gaze mesmerizing its details.
"You're breathtaking," a world of emotion reflects in his softened eyes. I feel the warmth of his body radiating across the distance he barely befriends between us. The prickles return as he traces my lower lip with his finger, his honey eyes bleeding for confirmation. They dissolve into blistered specs against the night sky.
"Can I?" he asks with a sliver of desperation.
I don't know what compels me, but I nod, and we share our first intimate moment. I loose track of how long we stand there, our souls physically intertwined but I feel safe. I pity the lost soul behind the coniferous as I nod my reassurance. She hesitates but quivers a smile, her eyes rounded and relieved. In time, the darkness that surrounds her vanishes into thin clusters of light until the whole backdrop of the sky is overwhelmed by its power. For the first time in forever, she laughs and fragile luminated stars exit from her mouth every time she does; they all animate together until the light of the sky sparkles.
I wish we could remain here forever. But forever is a word for fairytales.
Adam reaches down for a light brush along my forehead to stare longingly into my eyes.
"I waited my whole life for that," he admits, his finger grazing along my temples. He admires me as if I am his painting. The softness of his face quickly melts me into a pool of discomfort such that I break the heated eye contact. A soft chuckle escapes him before he gently bring my face towards his chest.
My cheeks cushion along the muscled frame before me. I take comfort in his heartbeat that gently knocks against my face. The rhythm calms me down. I close my eyes and memorize each soft thud as his hand caresses my hair. I inhale each whiff of his earthy musk scent. The occasional sound of a siren and buzzing traffic from outside keep us company.
If this is what peace feels like, I pray everyone has the chance to experience it.
He slowly pulls us apart and grabs my hand to lead me towards the bedroom.
"Lets open these babies up," he rubs his hands in excitement as we both stare at the wrapped gifts sprawled across the bed.
I feel a rush of dopamine as I face him kneeled across from me with a childlike expectant face. Although his long limbs usually appear intimidating, in this position, he looks mostly unthreatening. When I bite my lip in contemplation, he passes me a Cartier bag. My hands sweat as I hold the expensive handle and place it on my lap. I shakily grab the box inside and open it to a bracelet that probably costs more than my kidneys.
"Adam, this is too much..." I look up at him, my eyes wide.
He shakes his head through a smirk and closes the distance between us. I feel him gently pick the yellow gold frame and slowly slide it across my wrist until its diamonds are sparkling around my skin. It feels light and yet, it holds me down as heavy as the guilt of not reciprocating the gesture.
How did I not think to buy him anything?
Before I can voice my gratitude, he has already placed the Rolex bag in front of me.
"This is from my father," he says, smug.
I take in a huge breath as I stare in numbness at the green box. Before I open it, I slouch my shoulders and tilt my head to stare up at him through pursed lips and moistening eyes.
"Adam," I huff. This is beyond unnecessary.
"Open it," he rushes through an entertained and reassuring smile. His eyes pry me to reveal the contents of the box.
I open it up to unveil a rose gold watch with millions of diamonds that take turns on stage to mock their shine. I stare at the picturesque sparks for a while until a tear hits the frame followed by a couple more. It takes me a fair number of breaths to gain enough courage to touch it.
"Aam," I hear him voice delicately when he notices I'm crying.
I waver my hands and shake my head through a laugh.
Stupid hormones.
"Here," he slowly removes the watch from the box while I rub lavishly at my face. I feel cool material enclose my wrist until it houses itself shyly in its place. It doesn't have a hard time competing with the engagement ring.
The guilt grows like mold as I continue to open one designer gift after another: a Chanel bag, a Saint Laurent purse, a Gucci shoulder bag with a cardholder, a Louis Vuitton travel bag and two matching suitcases, three pairs of Christian Louboutin pumps, a pair of Balenciagas, various flavors of perfumes and clothes from brands I've never in my life cared for, a diamond necklace molded into my initial with two matching diamond tennis bracelets, Fendi Sunglasses, a Dyson hair dryer, two gift baskets filled with hygiene products and skin care, and another two baskets overflowing with sweets of different shapes and sizes.
Guilt may be an understatement.
It doesn't stop their however.
In the midst of my confusion, my hands struggle to stay warm as I stand outside blindfolded once again. This time, I can't seem to stop giggling as Adam's hands take place of the original blind fold. Coming outside after a hot shower took a lot of convincing but his sweet words eventually worked their charm.
A couple feeble breaths and I am looking at my dream vehicle dressed in a red bowtie. For a brief moment, the world starts ringing to overcompensate for the blood pulsating against my ears.
"Cici mentioned you wanted one," his lips hover along my ears.
A Tesla Model X.
When I don't make any movements, he slightly lifts my feet off the ground until they are on top of his. We wobble forward in unison to accustom our conjoined limbs and I feel his hands against my upper pelvis for support.
"Check it out Aam," he places a gentle kiss on my cheeks and replaces my empty trembling hands with the key fob.
I succeed in imprisoning the water works but the shock is unmistakable in each one of my slow and calculated steps.
"I personally don't care for electric cars but if it makes my wife happy then it doesn't matter what I...."
I completely blank out and lose the ability to hear his words.
This has to be a dream.
"I can't drive this," I drown in guilt while my eyes remain hypnotized by the glossy white exterior.
"Ofcourse you can," he chuckles as he walks towards me. He grabs my hand that holds the keys and directs my thumb to open the doors.
The posterior elevate as wings before flight and Adam opens the front using the door handle. When I still remain in my spot to stare at the car as if its an alien, I feel myself being lifted off the ground. He smothers me with endless kisses along my cheek before placing me in the drivers seat. Normally, this would have embarrassed me but since there is no one around and my brain has lost its consciousness, I completely bypass the whole public display of affection.
He excitedly finds comfort in the passenger seat and turns toward me with brightened eyes.
"If you want to customize the interior, we can make it happen," he says while he starts playing with the commands.
I feel the doors close beside me. As I follow their descent, I feel at awe that this is my reality. It all becomes too overwhelming.
And I fail myself.
"I don't know how to thank you," I turn towards him in ugly tears, my lips quivering as I welcome the sobs.
"You don't have to thank me Aam" he starts chuckling to ease the pressure of my emotions and then proceeds to wipe away the salty madness.
"I am your husband now, let me take care of you," he holds my face firm in his hands as his eyes scan mine in unadulterated reassurance.
All it takes is a couple of familiar words and the old barricades that I've worked tirelessly to keep strong, tumble down violently. The gnawing absence of my father quickly resurrects itself as it has the entire length of the wedding; it floods over the unreliable blockades and prevents me from holding the facade any longer. Despite the comfort Adam kneads into me through a slightly confused expression, I continue sobbing into his hands. The tears pool into the cups of his palm.
"I wish my father was here," I manage through each sob.
My father often used a similar phrase when I played heavy into my stubborn hyper independency. Even when his health was at its worst, he always tried his best to put us first. He especially made sure I was taken care of; it could be from waking up early to make sure my car was heated before I used it, filling up my gas for me, making sure to buy all of my favourite fruits in large quantities, buying me books, fixing anything I needed help fixing, or just being my number one supporter in every aspect of life. In his entirety, he never used his ill health as an excuse.
When I would get slightly angry at my father's efforts during his healing stages, he would patiently respond with, "Why am I your father if you won't let me take care of you Meera?"
I figure that now that these words are coming from a different source, my mind still fails to register the abyss of my father's absence; a man who was so present when he was alive.
Adam's eyes quickly slant to the sides and through the gaps of my blinks, I see the moisture pool in them as well. There is not much he can say to comfort me so his silence takes precedence.
"I know," he positions himself so my head can lay along his chest. I feel his hand glide along my head as I slowly but surely drench his shirt.
I don't know how long we are seated there but my mind is generous in recalling different memories of my father, each one reverberating a new sob.
I eventually mend myself together.
"We can go visit him tomorrow if you want Aam," he is very careful with his words.
"Okay," I nod my head.
"Okay," he repeats and follows through with a slow deep kiss along the top of my head.
I feel so blessed to have him here.
"We should go back inside," I suggest as I slowly elevate my head.
"You sure you don't want to just set camp here," he attempts to lighten the mood and it helps. I whimper enough energy for a smile.
"Promise me you won't shed anymore tears," he suddenly says as I try to tame my puffy eyes.
"I don't think I could go a full day without crying," I laugh to mask the painful truth.
"Just promise me Aam, I can't stand seeing you cry," his words feel like velvet as his fingers slowly trace the outline of my cheeks.
"I'll try," I purse my lips to prevent from letting the wells loose yet again.
He notices and quickly averts my emotions. He turns towards the screen and we play around with some features before I start yawning my tiredness.
"Lets get you inside," he chuckles.
And before I know it, I am being carried bridal style up to our apartment despite my multiple fidgeting attempts. I hide my face deep in his chest to guard myself from any onlookers. Considering it's almost midnight, I thankfully don't hear anyone.
While he gently places me onto the bed, I notice a slightly disfigured lamp on the side table. Quickly, I recall the familiarness of it.
"That lamp," I gasp as I remember the auction. His face of admiration turns towards the light source and then back at me with a glinting smile.
"Someone special made it for me," he shrugs in confidence.
"Oh yeah and who's that?" I play along.
"My dream girl," he extends each word as he slowly welcomes himself closer until his face is an inch from mine.
My heart stutters the slightest but there's no discomfort or unwelcoming butterflies anymore. I feel calm; a sensation I never knew I would reach in his presence.
He pecks my forehead and I close my eyes to memorize this moment. Quickly, the cold air replaces him. I watch him walk to the living room and then back.
"Here," he places a shopping bag in my lap and a bottle of water on the nightstand.
I peer through the bag to find Advil, a hot water bottle, and snacks.
"Thanks for everything," I drawl as the guilt prickles at my insides.
"Stop thanking me Aam," he returns.
"I wish I bought you something," I start to echo my thoughts.
"You are my gift," he boasts in amusement.
"How cliché," I laugh, rolling my eyes. In reality, my heart is running its marathon.
"Ouch," he holds his heart to mock pain and I find myself giggling.
I am reminded of our childhood and the normalcy of this. Our humour. Our memories. It all fuses together and I feel an undeniable bliss. Everything worked out in my favour and I can't help but feel indebted to God for blessing me beyond my comprehension.
Adam brings back the hot water bottle filled with boiled water. I welcome its warmth to tame my oncoming cramps as I wait for the Advil to settle its place. He then spends the next hour taking a shower and praying Isha. I find myself admiring his wet hair and concentrated face as he prays. He returns to the room to collect a pillow and blanket.
"You should sleep Aam, we've got a long day tomorrow," he winks as he hovers over me. I peak through my blanket and feel overwhelmed by the smell of body wash and aftershave.
"Where are we going?" I tease through a huge grin.
He smiles at me adoringly while tightening the blankets around my body to refuel the warmth.
"It's a secret," he whispers through another wink while gently tucking my hair strands behind my ear. I feel his lips against mine and its like cotton candy slowly melting its way; the sweetness of its memory continues to remain after its disappearance.
"Good night dream girl," the sarcasm spills all around us.
"Good night."
And although my heart sinks merciless at his departure, I feel a slight ease in sleeping alone and his understanding nature. I also welcome the greater sense of security I feel with his presence, no matter how distant. Knowing this, I find myself drifting away in a matter of seconds.
Its only until I hear the slight rattling of a trolley and Adam's whispers that I regain conscious to the sun's rays. With the pirouettes of warmth cradling me and the aftermath of last night's blissful sleep, I hold an undeniable appreciation for the amount of energy streaming through me this early in the day.
I take Adam's slight distraction with the hotel staff as an opportunity to run into the bathroom. Quickly, I take a hot shower and then proceed towards a morning routine. After blowdrying my hair, I grab a bathrobe and casually walk out into the room to fix the bed.
Adam has beat me to it. Everything is as it first was when we arrived last night. He even moved all of the gifts into the closet and discarded the waste.
"Morning."
I turn towards a beaming smile. His face looks like sunrise and morning tea, all molded into perfection. I marvel at his hair messily pulled towards the back and his noticeable frame against grey sweats and a white t-shirt. His form holds a weight of dominance that can never be explained. The sun boasts his beauty more definitively and I cant help but count my blessings.
"Good morning," I reply shyly.
"How'd you sleep?" I feel his feet losing distance between me.
"Actually, I slept really well," I respond with confidence while elevating my eyes to meet his.
The rays highlight the caramel specs that float about his irises. I catch my pathetic reflection in front of the sea of his essence.
"That's Good," he takes the opportunity to grab my back and pull me closer until I am at the mercy of his support.
"You hungry?" His eyes aren't as concentrated as his words.
"Yeah," I reply as soon as my brain registers his question. It takes a while but I rummage as much of an apathetic stance as I can. Again, I'm surprised at this novel level of comfort I have around him.
"Oh yeah?" He teases and I nod.
We stand there for a while. The sun propels its power towards us, the busy traffic outside marks its territory, the sound of birds aim to overpower the background noise, the smell of last night's petals intermingled with his scent suckle at my nasal passage, and his thumb massages my cheeks. There's no exchange of words, just comfortable silence. My heart isn't beating a million miles an hour, my face isn't fuming, and there is not an ounce of anxiety in my body. I can't remember the last time I've felt as calm as this moment. It's heavenly.
"Lets get you some food then," he finally loses his trance and grabs my hand to lead me towards the living room.
"I know you're into clichés but cooking is not my forte," he turns towards me in amusement.
I laugh at his genuine honesty.
"I also don't want you to get sick," he kisses the back of my hand before placing me in front of the two huge trolleys of food.
"That makes two of us," I respond, knowing that my ability to make basic meals can't translate to any talent for cooking. We both collectively laugh at our commonality.
"I tried to order everything that sounded good," he says slightly nervously.
He takes the time to unveil each plate as he says this and I try to swallow how excessive the variety is. There is an endless selection meant for a lot more people than the both of us; pancakes, eggs, bread, french toast, waffles, yogurt parfaits, fruit smoothies, orange and apple juice, oatmeal, sliced fruits of every color, teas, coffee, and milk.
"You did order everything," I exhale as my eyes attempt to absorb everything.
I don't even like eating breakfast.
"Bon appétit," he jokes through a purposefully horrible french accent while passing me a plate and utencils.
I make a conscious effort to not waste anything. The most I can stomach is tea and french toast. Adam attempts to force more onto my plate but he knows I am not much of an eater so he doesn't push me as far.
I soak in each sip as I fall deeper in love with the view of the bright sky and busy buildings that circulate us. We are quite literally living among clouds and it feels surreal.
"We have to be somewhere in three hours," he suddenly says.
"Where?" I pry, my eyes curious.
"Pack up some clothes and shoes into those suitcases," he says through a secretive smile.
"Lets go visit your dad first and then go from there," his voice becomes lower as he stares softly at me as if I am fragile glass. I remember last night and feel the lump returning to my throat but I attempt to block it. I promised him.
"Okay," I nod my head through closed eyes.
"Wear something comfortable, I'll be right back," he kisses the top of my forehead and holds my shoulders firm before leaving with his keys.
I cringe as I close each lid to the uneaten food. I call the front desk and request that the leftovers be placed in compost containers. I feel slightly relieved when they reassure me they will. I then scavenge for some appropriate clothes and select a long dark grey dress, maroon hijab, and sneakers. I also wear my new watch and gifted jewelry.
I attempt to pack some necessities and then also place the gifted clothes, sleep wear, heels, shoes, and some different varieties of intimate wear into the suitcases. I then wait until Adam returns a couple of minutes later.
"Do I need my passport?" I inquire.
"I texted your mum to bring it and if you don't have everything you need, we can just buy you some there," he reassures me.
"How about you, what do you want me to pack you?"
"Mum is bringing my stuff there," he rubs his hands in excitement.
I nod and stare at him. Where was he taking me?
"You look beautiful, my maroon fish," he drawls sarcastically before he grabs the suitcases and leads me towards his car.
I laugh at the cringy reference and we both sit rather silently on the drive towards the cemetery. Adam squeezes my thigh once in a while to remind me of his presence and his unwavering support. I knew any form of conversation would startle the tears so I become grateful for the silence.
Every step towards his grave fills my stomach with grievance such that I find my self feeling nauseous when we finally arrive. I hold onto Adam's arm for support. The abyss arouses itself again when we stand right before his tomb stone. No matter how many times I've seen it, my mind still can't quite comprehend it as reality.
It is a knowing reminder of death and it selfishly terrifies me.
Adam holds me close as I silently allow the tears to stroll. We both stand there for a long time to pray for him. Adam then recites some verses. I ask Allah repeatedly for His mercy upon my father. There's a brick that grows into knots from my stomach all the way up to my throat every minute we extend our stay. Before I can form any words, Adam leads us back to the car.
It feels both overwhelming and relieving to visit. I regain a sense of temporary closure.
"He was a good man, he didn't have one bad bone in his body," he turns towards me with glossy eyes.
I nod and reciprocate with my moistening eyes.
"I wish I could have told him that he made me want to pursue law," he continues as I grab a Kleenex.
"He's in a better place now," he nods to himself in reassurance and looks away to rub at his eyes.
"I wish I was there in his last days," the guilt fries at his reddening eyes as he turns towards me with a face so vulnerable and broken.
"None of us would have known," I rub his arm while I coach myself to stay strong. The fibres of pain reconcile and unwind but I force them to suture.
"Yeah," he exhales sharply while staring at a distance for a brief second before quickly gathering himself.
"I am sorry," he shakes his head to excuse his emotions before accepting the Kleenex from my hand.
"He's in a better place," I echo his words, a statement that took me so long to say with acceptance.
Inevitably, the flowering pain of his absence tore at me at every possible instance. However, I knew healing required acceptance and that is something I worked for months on end to acquire. It still isn't perfect but it's a working progress.
No amount of time can take away the hollowness you feel from losing your parent, especially someone as incredible as my father. I've come to terms with the knowledge that it will always rip me apart that he can't be here for the good moments or the bad. Events like my marriage where he could've seen me happy and fulfilled or the bad parts where he could comfort me at my worst. Even so, it brings me peace knowing that he's returned to an eternal home where he doesn't feel pain.
I will join him one day, whenever that day will be. For now, that thought was enough.
"You okay?" He turns towards me completely recollected, the concern dipped across his face.
"I'll be okay."
He squeezes my hand and then starts driving. I find my mind entranced by various memories of my father. I recall the last letter he wrote to me, each word still a fresh inkling in my brain. I take comfort in the memory of his hugs, smiles, laughs, and advice. Unlike before, the thoughts lift my mood the slightest.
His memory will remain eternal and that is something no one can take away from me.
After about an hour out of the city, I feel restless and even more curious. Even after multiple attempts, Adam still refuses to give me any clues. And so, the oblivion brings forth a novel sense of excitement.
I find myself dazed as I watch an endless road to yet again an unknowing destination.