Yaseerah stared up at the imposing wrought iron gates, uncertainty and an underlying sense of abandonment enveloping her.
She could sense the rapid thud of her heart against her ribcage, each beat echoing in her ears like a warped music note.
Clutching her middle, and seeking strength from the warmth of her own touch, she raised a trembling hand and knocked against the gate hoping against all hope the person she sought after was there.
And if he weren’t, Yaseerah had no idea who else to turn to. As it stood, she wasn’t even sure whether or not her presence would be welcomed there.
When a long moment passed and the gate remained close, an invisible vice tightened around her chest, making it harder to draw breath.
The oxygen she needed felt elusive, slipping through her fingers like fine grains of sand. The shallow inhales barely grazed the surface of her lungs, leaving her gasping for a substantial gulp of air that suddenly seemed out of reach.
The ground beneath her felt unsteady, as if it might crumble beneath the weight of everything she was feeling.
Thoughts collided in her mind like a chaotic storm, each one vying for her attention, yet none offered her solace or clarity.
A silent sob hovered on the edge of her lips, as panic threatened to consume her. Refusing to allow herself to give in to the despair she felt, Yaseerah took a step back, her mind racing as she pondered her next move.
The world seemed to press in on her, and the weight of her circumstances threatened to crush her spirit.
Finally, the tears she had been holding back broke free and spilled down her cheeks.
It was too much.
All of it.
Mamu had a brain tumor; suffering more than she already was, and Yaseerah was powerless to help her. Arzu had been sold to an unknown buyer. Bilal for some reason was angry with her, and Fulan, the one man she thought she could find solace with, was nowhere to be found.
A sob racked through her, echoing in the empty space. She fought to stifle it, but the weight of her emotions overpowered her, leaving her vulnerable in the crumbling silence. The more she tried to suck it back in, the more she broke down.
It wasn’t just Mamu’s illness or Bilal’s outburst, it was everything.
Her whole world was crumbling.
Her family.
Her life.
Nothing will ever be the same again. The weight of it all, it crushed her.
She went to her knees, finally submitting to the waves of grief that had been beckoning her since yesterday.
She had no idea how to go on, how to get back up, and face whatever was coming for her.
She didn’t know if she even wanted to get up.
She was tired.
So tired of everything.
The pretense, the emotional battles, the psychological and physical warfare with her father.
Darkness crept along the edges of her vision. And just as it threatened to engulf her, the gate began to slide open slowly.
The rumble of a car’s engine reached her ears, its vibrations humming through the pavement, but she couldn’t find the strength to stand, or move away from its path.
What a shame, if it ran you over. A shame but nothing devastating.
The engine abruptly cut off, leaving an eerie silence in its wake, but she remained unmoving, as if the weight of her grief had anchored her to that specific spot.
It wasn’t until she heard the soft crunch of footsteps approaching that she stirred a little, her tear-streaked face lifting slightly, when she perceived an earthy woody scent she associated with only one person.
Fulan’s alarmed gaze met hers as he came into view. In that moment, Yaseerah couldn’t decipher her own emotions—whether it was relief she felt, or shame, or exposure under his gentle scrutiny.
His eyes widened with concern, taking in the disheveled state of the person he hadn’t expected to find on the other side of the gate.
“Yaseerah? What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
His questions flew over her head, as he knelt beside her. Her lips parted, but no words escaped. All she could think of in that moment was the tightness in her chest, and the inability to inhale air into her lungs.
Several seconds passed but the fact remained, something was blocking her airways.
“I can’t... I can’t...” she gestured at her throat, turning panicky eyes on him. “I can’t breathe.”
Her breaths were shallow and rapid, and her tear-streaked face reflected her sheer distress.
“I need you to calm down,” he urged in a soothing tone which did nothing to help her. “Focus on your breath.”
Yaseerah tried to do as he said but she couldn’t. And the more shallow her breaths were becoming, the more panic was setting in.
“Eyes on me,” he commanded. “You’re safe here, nothing will hurt you, I promise. Take it slow, in to 7 and then out to 11. In and out.”
Again, she struggled against the invisible force constricting her chest, even as Fulan encouraged her to synchronize her breathing with his.
“I need you to do something for me. Can you manage that?”
Yaseerah’s brows furrowed, but she managed to nod her head.
“I need you to tell me three things you can see.”
“You, the gate, the car?”
“That’s good,” he nodded encouragingly, smiling softly at her. “Close your eyes, focus on your breaths, inhale slowly, exhale and tell me three things you can smell.”
Using his calm presence as an anchor, Yaseerah did as he instructed.
“Oudh, musk, cinnamon?”
Fulan choked on a shocked gasp, and Yaseerah’s eyes snapped open on instinct, a red hue blossoming on her cheeks because she’d just listed his scents.
“You good, now?”
Yaseerah nodded, avoiding his gaze, as she felt the panic attack loosening its grip on her.
Fulan’s gaze softened a bit, his concern deepening as he took in the magnitude of her distress.
“You don’t have to tell me what happened right now,” he said softly. “But I’ll be here to listen, whenever you’re ready.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come,” she whispered distractedly, attempting to rise but gave up when she couldn’t muster enough energy to do so. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You’re always welcome here,” his face softened a bit, though his concern remained.
“I don’t...”
“Sometimes our instincts guide us to where we need to be, even if our conscious mind hasn’t caught up yet.”
“I didn’t know where else to go,” she admitted softly, the confession ripping out of her forcefully, leaving her strangely bereft, because she knew she’d just crossed another invisible line she’d drawn between them.
“You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Would you like to come inside and clean up?”
“Yaseerah?” he called out, when he didn’t get any response from her.
Her gaze refocused, and unwittingly, she realized that she’d tuned him out. His gaze was trained on her hands, and a soft gasp escaped her lips, when she saw the fresh blood peeking out between the creases of her fingers and palms.
Shame had her clenching her palms tightly, as she wondered how she could get him to forget about it.
Was there ever going to be an end to the shame she always brought to herself when she was around him?
Her cheeks turned rosy, her heart beginning to pound a little wildly. Nausea swirled around in her gut, and it felt like she was about to lose it, all over again.
“Are you okay?”
The question stirred her from her thoughts, and she turned to find him watching her, not with accusation or disgust. But with affection, like he always did.
Every single time she had been with him, she always felt his gaze drifting over her not in a salacious way but in awe, as if he was studying her.
She never minded it of course. She was used to being stared at like she was nothing but a figurine. But Fulan’s gaze was different. It didn’t make her feel like a prized figurine. It always bolstered her somehow, making her feel safe, and cared for.
“Can I see?”
Yaseerah hesitated for a moment before she slowly uncurled her palms, keeping her head high, despite the tremor that wracked her hands.
A beat of silence passed between them, his gaze still fixed on her face, before it finally drifted down to her open hands.
She saw the minute he took in the dozens of scabs and cuts, each varying in shape, some fresh, some old.
“You self-harm?” He asked softly, and instead of the disgust or pity she thought he would feel, all she saw in his eyes as his gaze went back to hers was curiosity, concern, and a dose of the admiration she’d always seen in them.
Would he ever look at her any different? Would there ever be a time when he would look at her with something other than admiration?
“I wouldn’t call it that,” she spoke after a while, her voice raw just like her emotions.
Fulan’s brow furrowed with genuine concern as he returned his gaze back to the wounds on her hands, tracing each moonshaped scab with his eyes. “Whatever you call it, I’m not here to judge you,” he said softly.
Yaseerah bit her lip, wrestling with the vulnerability of sharing this part of herself, even though his words had warmed her heart genuinely. “It’s a way to cope, to keep the bad thoughts away, to keep me grounded in the moment and not give in to my emotions,” she admitted, her gaze dropping to the ground.
Fulan remained silent for a moment, absorbing her words. Then, he gently reached for her face with a finger, tilting her chin up so they were now staring at each other. “You don’t have to hide anymore. I’ll always be there, through the good and the bad, come what may.”
“You can’t promise me that,” Yaseerah pulled her face away, the unspoken vow in his words and his determination forcing her to stand up abrubtly on shaky legs that for a minute, she swayed on her feet.
“I can, and I will.”
Yaseerah thought about her marriage which was slated to take place in just a few days. She thought about what her father would do if she backed out of it now.
This, Fulan, was everything she never knew she wanted. And it was so cruel and unfair that they would never be, despite how desperate she was to make them work.
“I have to go.”
Yaseerah turned and began to walk away but Fulan soon caught up to her, overtaking her strides so he was now in front of her, forcing her to stop otherwise she would crash into him.
“Stay please, let me take care of you. I won’t bring up the subject again, if it upsets you so. But please, let me do this one thing for you.”
“You can’t...”
“You look exhausted,” he cut her off mid sentence.
“Just what every lady likes to hear,” she rolled her eyes, some of her energy returning.
“You need food, a change of clothes, and a lot of rest,” he continued, ignoring her jab.
Yaseerah ought to say no, but he was right. She needed all of the things he said but that didn’t mean he had to be the one to provide them.
It was wrong on every level but she was exhausted and for this one moment, she was choosing to be selfish.
Hopefully, she didn’t live to regret it.