No one had told Yaseerah how loud and depressing silence was.
Her knees were drawn up to her chin, with her arms wrapped tightly around them, as she sat on one of the plastic chairs in Mamu’s hospital room, her gaze fixed solely on the white wall.
The silence felt oppressive, punctuated only by the steady beeping of the machines Mamu was hooked up to.
She had been in that position since she had sent both Fou’ad and Bilal away to get some rest after they had prayed fajr–which hadn’t been easy because they both put up a fight and now that she was alone, all she felt was a hollow emptiness replacing the ache in her chest, and the rawness of her guilt.
She was supposed to be feeling something—grief, fear, anger—but it felt like her emotions had been locked away, seeming unreachable, no matter how hard she tried to grasp onto them.
Her mind swirled with a jumble of thoughts, memories, and regrets, but they all seemed to float in a fog, as elusive as sand grains on one’s palms.
She wanted to cry, to scream, to feel something, anything, but there was absolutely nothing, just a vast emptiness that was fast spreading to every limb in her body.
She turned away from the wall, her gaze drifting to Mamu’s still form on the hospital bed. The sight of her mother, so fragile and pale, should have been enough to break her now, but she felt nothing.
Uncrossing her arms from her legs, she reached out and took her mother’s hand in hers, its coldness making her feel a pang of something–a mix of sorrow and guilt–but it was fleeting, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.
The numbness was suffocating, wrapping around her like a thick blanket, dulling her senses, and numbing her pain. Her shoulders slumped, feeling like she was drowning in her own helplessness, unable to save her mother.
The hospital room seemed to be closing in on her, the beeping machines and antiseptic smell suffocating her, but she couldn’t find it in herself to leave.
Closing her eyes, she leaned back in her chair, as a tear slid down her chin, followed by another, and another. She didn’t bother wiping them away, letting them fall like raindrops, as she held onto Mamu’s hand, her eyes fixed on her mother’s still form.
And then, just when she wasn’t expecting it to happen, Mamu’s eyes flickered open.
Yaseerah’s breath caught in her throat as she sat frozen, her mind numb, her gaze locked onto her mother’s, whose eyes were still cloudy with medication, and slowly trying to focus.
Alhamdulillah, she thought gleefully.
The machines beeped on erratically, but the sound faded into the background as the two women stared at each other.
The moment seemed to stretch out like a rubber band, taunting Yaseerah with its fragility, as they continued to stare at each other, Yaseerah feeling like she was drowning in her mother’s gaze, unable to escape the sorrow and longing that filled her chest.
She watched as a gentle smile spread across Mamu’s face, a smile that spoke of love, of acceptance, and of a deep understanding that transcended words, and she knew that by Allah’s will, all shall be well.
Yaseerah felt a weight lift off her chest at the sight of Mamu’s smile, a glimmer of hope cutting through the darkness that had engulfed her.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Mamu smiled up at Yaseerah, as she struggled to sit up, her gaze roaming around the room before she gave up, and settled her gaze on Yaseerah. “You seem sad, is everything okay?”
“Hi, Mamu.” Yaseerah’s smile was watery, as she squeezed Mamu’s hand gently. “Everything’s okay.”
“Are you sure?” she asked distractedly, her gaze once again roaming around the unfamiliar room.
“Yeah,” Yaseerah nodded, forcing a smile onto her face. “I’ve just been sitting here all morning, thinking about what to say to you when you wake up, and now that you’re–” Yaseerah sniffed, canting her head upwards slightly to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill.
When she was sure she wasn’t going to cry again, she returned her gaze back to her mother who continued to look at her with that gentle smile, her eyes conveying a sense of understanding and love that Yaseerah found both comforting and unnerving.
She knew she should go get the doctors, but she needed to get some things off her chest while she had the chance.
“I’ve been so lost, Mamu,” Yaseerah continued, her voice cracking with emotion. “And I’ve been trying to find my way, to make things right, but I’ve only ended up making things worse. I’ve hurt those closest to me, especially Bilal, and I don’t know if I can ever make it right.”
Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke, the weight of her guilt and regret pressing down on her with unbearable force.
“Mamu, please forgive me,” Yaseerah pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I promise to do better. I promise to be there for you and Bilal, no matter what. Just please don’t cast me out, okay? I don’t know what I’ll do without you, or Bilal. You’re both my world, and–”
Yaseerah fell silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air between them. She waited for a response from Mamu, but when none came, her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. She looked up, her heart pounding in her chest, and saw that Mamu was still smiling at her, her eyes filled with an unfathomable sadness.
And then, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper, Mamu spoke.
“Aisha.”
Yaseerah’s heart stopped at the sound of Mamu calling her by her late mother’s name. She felt a chill run down her spine, a sense of dread washing over her. “No,” she shook her head, her voice trembling. “It’s me, Yaseerah.”
“Yaseerah?” Mamu echoed, her smile dimming a little, as frown lines appeared across her forehead.
Yaseerah’s heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces. Mamu's words, her distant gaze, her confusion–it was all like a punch to her gut, and she felt like she was losing her mother all over again.
Mamu looked at her, her eyes clouded with uncertainty. “What day is it?” she rasped, her voice laced with confusion.
Yaseerah’s heart skipped a beat at Mamu’s question, but she forced a smile on her face, masking the turmoil inside her. “It’s Tuesday, Mamu.”
“Tuesday?” Mamu’s brow furrowed deeply, confusion evident in her eyes. “I didn’t miss the baby shower, did I?”
Yaseerah could feel her heart shattering into another million pieces. “No,” she shook her struggling to keep her composure. “No, you didn’t.”
“Why are we in the hospital?” Mamu whispered, her voice carrying a conspirational tone and worry that twisted the knife in Yaseerah’s guts even further. “Is it the baby? Is she okay?”
“I–”
“And don’t even say it’s not a girl, Aisha,” Mamu chuckled. “Because I know it’s going to be a girl, in shaa Allah. I can feel it, Aisha.”
Tears welled up in Yaseerah’s eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall.
“If you say so.” She leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on Mamu’s forehead, a lone tear escaping her eyes and falling onto Mamu’s chin. “Get some rest, I’ll just be out for a bit.”
Mamu’s eyes met hers, when she leaned back, and for a moment, Yaseerah thought she saw a flicker of recognition. But it was fleeting, and soon Mamu’s gaze drifted away again, lost in the fog of her confusion.
“Is everything okay, Aisha?”
“Of course,” Yaseerah nodded, forcing herself to look away, and focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
•—۵—•
Once she was outside Mamu’s hospital room, Yaseerah rested her forehead against the cold, unforgiving surface of the door, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
She felt like a dam on the verge of breaking, the flood of her tears threatening to overwhelm her, her body wracked with the weight of her emotions.
She had managed to hold herself together in front of Mamu, putting on a brave face and offering reassurances she didn’t feel. But now, in the solitude of the hospital corridor, the façade crumbled, and the full force of her grief hit her like a tidal wave.
Images and memories flooded her mind—the sound of Mamu’s laughter, the warmth of her embrace, the scent of her perfume. She remembered the way Mamu used to read to her when she was a child, soothing her to sleep with tales and lullabies that still echoed in her ears.
But now, all she could hear was the sound of machines beeping, and the pungent scent of hospital antiseptic.
She slid down the door, her back against the cold metal, and buried her face in her hands, the tears flowing freely now, unchecked and unstoppable.
She cried for Mamu, for herself, for everything they had lost and everything they might never have again.
She didn't know how long she sat there, lost in her grief, but eventually, the sound of approaching footsteps roused her from her despair. She quickly wiped away her tears, trying to compose herself before whoever it was reached her.
The footsteps stopped in front of her, and she looked up to see Fou’ad standing there, his expression a mix of concern and empathy, as he knelt down beside her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a tight embrace without a word.
Yaseerah didn’t resist. She buried her face in his chest, letting him hold her as she cried.
Fou’ad didn’t say anything, didn’t offer empty platitudes or false reassurances. He simply held her, hoping his presence was enough to soothe the ache in her chest.
After what felt like an eternity, Yaseerah’s sobs began to subside, replaced by a sense of calm that washed over her like a gentle wave.
She pulled away from Fou’ad’s embrace reluctantly, not quite ready to face reality just yet but also knowing that she couldn’t stay lost in her grief forever.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying, as she wiped away the last traces of tears from her cheeks.
Fou’ad gave her a gentle smile, his eyes filled with understanding. “Anytime,” he replied softly. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“Where’s Bilal?” she asked, instead of answering him, not quite sure how to word her bizarre interaction with Mamu.
Fou’ad hesitated, sensing her avoidance but also not wanting to push her. “He’s with the doctor, getting an update on Mamu’s condition,” he replied gently. “But what about you? Are you okay?”
Yaseerah shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes again. “I don’t know, Fou’ad,” she whispered. “I just... I can’t handle this. I can’t lose her. She’s all that we have, and I–”
Fou’ad pulled her into a comforting embrace, letting her cry against his chest. “You’re not alone, Albi,” he murmured. “We’re all here for you. We’ll get through this together, in shaa Allah.”
“She doesn’t remember anything,” she whispered hoarsely. “The last memory she has of me is me slapping Bilal and I–” she choked on her tears, clinging to Fou’ad’s shirt like it was her lifeline. “She doesn’t remember the last eighteen years of her life. She doesn’t remember me, or Bilal. How do I... How do I tell her that...”
“I think it’s best if we meet with the doctors and they can help clarify some things, don’t you think?” Fou’ad suggested, as he rubbed circles around her back. “Perhaps the memory loss is just temporary and–”
“Of course,” Yaseerah gasped, as she pulled away from him, wiping away her tears with the backs of her hands. “I didn’t even think that was possible.”
Without another word, she laced her hand with his, and pulled him towards the direction of Dr. Seda’s office, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time since Mamu had opened her eyes.
***
That was a lot 😮💨
Get your tissue boxes ready tho 😪🥺, it's gonna be a bumpy ride from here 💔
Xoxo, Jidderh ❤️