Fou’ad’s exhaustion wasn’t just physical–it weighed on his soul–as he absentmindedly toyed with the bracelet he had gotten for Yaseerah to celebrate her birthday, the silver charms cool against his fingertips.
The memory of finding it in the trash mere hours after he had gifted it to her haunted his thoughts, along with the events of the wedding day, the betrayal etched on her face when she’d found out about his true identity, and the near-tragedy that had unfolded in the dressing room.
Seeing the jewelry box in the bin when he had woken up to an empty house had broken him in more ways than him nearly punching her had done.
He had gone to bed thinking of ways to fix their relationship but seeing it had only solidified the one thought he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind; perhaps, there was no salvaging their relationship.
And it hurt.
It hurt more than he was willing to admit. He had not intended to ruin her joy, yet there he was, regretting every step he had taken, the oppressive silence in the house amplifying his racing thoughts.
Yaseerah hadn’t been able to fully enjoy their wedding because of him. The one day meant to mark the beginning of their life together had turned into a nightmarish ordeal, and he only had himself to blame.
The panic that had set in when he woke up and was unable to find her was an experience he would never wish upon anyone in the world.
The fear of losing her had driven him near the point of madness, as he searched every inch of the house for her, his mind conjuring up worst-case scenarios, until he found the bracelet in the kitchen’s trashcan.
The sound of the passcode inputted, and the security system being reactivated had him tensing and when he turned to face her, he was disheartened to see the lines of exhaustion on her face.
The need to hold her was so intense, it skewered him, but he fought against the urge, clenching his hands into tight fists, knowing that he had to keep his wits about him. He was drowning in regrets, and uncertainties, and if he didn’t put a stop to it, then he knew that he was going to choke on it all.
The rush of protectiveness that surged within him didn’t abate even a bit. But when he thought about how she had disregarded him today, all he could think about was how there may never be a future between them.
She seemed in a daze, her red-rimmed eyes resembling water-logged half stars as unshed tears clung to her thick lashes. And despite it all, she still looked beautiful.
Was this the wrong moment for butterflies to flutter in his stomach?
Every inch of him wanted to go to her, but something was keeping him fixed on the sofa.
“Where have you been?” he asked, exhaustion creeping into his tone as he rubbed at his temple.
Yaseerah blinked at him, her lashes fluttering as she stared at him for a good thirty seconds, like she hadn’t even noticed him.
Releasing a heavy breath when her gaze fell on the bracelet he still held in his grasp, her expression shuttered when her gaze flickered back to him.
“Out.”
“Yaseerah—”
“No! I am not in the mood for this right now,” her voice wobbled, her body stiff and unyielding like she was gearing up for a fight, as he crossed the living room to stand before her.
“It’s 3 am, Yaseerah,” his voice softened. “You left without a word, I was beside myself the whole day, having no idea who to call or where to look. I think I deserve more explanation than that.”
Yaseerah bit her lip, feeling the sting of guilt as she avoided his gaze. I should’ve left a note.
“All you need to know is that I went out,” she sniffed, the sound going straight to his heart. “Or do I not have the permission to go out?”
“Listen, I know that you’re still upset about yesterday, and believe me, I get it. And I have no idea how long I’m going to have to tell you that it is not what you think.”
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” she admitted silently, her heart heavy as she avoided his gaze. “But what I do know is that I don’t want to be around you right now.”
Beneath the love and guilt he felt, a fresh ember of anger sparked within him, and without meaning to, he grasped at it like a lifeline.
“Damn it, Yaseerah!” he hissed, frustration lacing his tone. He was breaking into a million pieces, and she couldn’t even be bothered. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? If you want to go out, I’ll never stop you but you’re my responsibility now, I need to know about your whereabouts.”
“Well, I’m sorry if I’m such a burden to you. I left without a word because I didn’t want to talk to you,” she bit out, still avoiding his gaze.
In an attempt to evade the emotional onslaught, she sidestepped him, her clenched fists betraying the internal battle she fought. “Now, can I go to my room? I need to shower and—”
“Yaseerah!”
Her heart jumped to her throat, the sobs she had been fighting to hold back ever since she had left the hospital dying, as the shock of his outburst stunned her into momentary paralysis.
Fou’ad snapped his eyes shut, focusing on breathing through the knot that strangled the back of his throat, as he pinched the bridge of his nose. When he snapped his eyes open again, there was no emotion either in his voice or his eyes, as he fixed his gaze on her. “I listened to you before, and it is time for you to listen to me now.”
Still stunned, all Yaseerah could do was stare at him wide-eyed, unsure of where to proceed from there, as she urged herself not to break in front of him.
A part of her wanted to just ignore him and run to her room where she could decompress alone, scared that his frustration was another curveball upon the curveball Bilal had thrown her way earlier today. But the vulnerability and frustration in his gaze dissolved all of her willpower, and she paused, deflated, turning around to face him.
“I want you to be honest with me. If I had told you who I was right from the beginning, would you have opened up to me?”
Silence.
Yaseerah couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze, her eyes fixed on an indistinct point in the living room, the unspoken turmoil within her threatening to spill over.
“I thought becoming Fulan was a way to free us from expectations and let us be happy as ourselves, but I see my mistake now. I should have been honest with you from the beginning, and I am sorry, I am so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am.” His throat flexed. “I never meant to hurt you, and I’m here drowning in regrets. I can’t breathe, Yaseerah. It’s suffocating me. And you... You just...” he trailed off, his hands flapping wildly as he tried to find the right words to convey his emotions.
His words triggered a flood of memories–their dates, shared interests, dreams, the unspoken promises. Each recollection intensified the sting of hurt, and uncertainty within her, as she remained silent, head bowed in guilt.
“I don’t have all the answers, Yaseerah. I’ve never been in this situation before, and I don’t know how this is supposed to work,” his voice was too raw and laced with unspoken emotions he didn’t even recognize himself. “I’m just stumbling through this mess, trying to salvage what’s left. But I can’t help but think that nothing I do will ever be enough for you. I’ll never be enough for you.”
It’s not true, she wanted to say, but the words were stuck in her throat, and it felt like she was back in that hotel room, where her father had found her and dealt her the worst beating of her life.
A fresh tear traced a lonely path down her cheek, and she brushed it away with a trembling hand, the sniffles that followed only a feeble attempt to contain the overwhelming surge of emotions threatening to engulf her.
“Fou’ad—”
“No,” he shook his head, ignoring the wetness on her cheeks, even though her tears made his heart twist painfully. “You don’t want to talk, that’s fine. But you will listen to me.
“The first thing I did today after fajr was research ways in which I could begin to fix things between us. I thought a vacation would do both of us some good, we would have the time alone to clear the air between us, away from our families and everyone that we know. But now?” He blew out a breath, a bitter laugh escaping his lips as he shook his head. “I’m not so sure anymore.
“The last two years of my life have revolved around you and I know it might seem crazy and unfair to you because I kept you in the dark but it is the truth. And now, I am at a point where I have to take a step back and ask myself if this–” He clicked his tongue, as he gestured between them. “–is what I truly want because at the end of the day, I have to do what is best for me and right now? I don’t think this is it. What I do know is that I love you with everything that I am and everything that I have, but I can’t keep living my life wondering day in and day out if I’m doing right by you when you don’t look like you want to be here with me.”
Yaseerah’s vision blurred at the raw revelation, a painful roar echoing in her ears, drowning out the words that sliced through her heart. Her chest tightened, making it difficult to draw in enough oxygen into her lungs. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, as a million thoughts swirled in her mind, each one competing for attention. All she could do was stand frozen, as he bared his heart out to her, and not in the way she had hoped.
“So, if it is space that you need, then I will give it to you. You asked me for a divorce and if in the morning that’s what you still want, I’ll respect your wishes and give you want. I will no longer chase after someone who doesn’t want me. If I have to persuade you to be in a relationship with me, then I don’t think it is worth it.”
Yaseerah felt as though the air around her had congealed into an oppressive mass at the mention of divorce, each syllable etching itself on the walls of her mind. A heavy weight bore down on her chest, squeezing her heart until it pulsed in tandem with her growing dread, making it harder to breathe.
“There are pre-cooked meals in the freezer, if you’re hungry.”
Without a second glance, Fou’ad retreated up the stairs, his bedroom door slamming shut, the echoing reverberations cutting through the emptiness of the house with a finality that left Yaseerah frozen in the aftermath.
A profound sense of loss formed a jagged rock in her stomach, its weight pressing down with an oppressive force that seemed to permeate the very air she breathed.
The silence that followed his departure stretched like an endless chasm, as she tried to make sense of the whirlwind of revelations and emotions Fou’ad had unleashed, the weight of his words hanging in the air, creating an atmosphere thicker than any silence she had ever experienced.
Collapsing onto a pouf stool, Yaseerah’s mind was a chaotic storm of conflicting thoughts.
As the floodgates of her composure crumbled, Yaseerah found herself at the mercy of unrestrained sorrow, her tears cascading down her cheeks, each droplet carrying with them the echoes of Fou’ad’s anguished confessions.