I sit with the staff for Suhoor, wanting to clear my head after my conversation with Azar. I don't mean to avoid him, but I can feel the hesitance in his body language like I have put him in a dilemma about something I cannot even word. I wish I wasn't so perceptive and aware of him, but I am. It makes everything too harder.
He left the choice up to me. All is up to me. I do not know how to handle this freedom, this power.
I try to shut away the thoughts, but sitting far away has triggered them even more. I don't understand, but I remind myself of Allah as Azar did. All will be well In Sha Allah. I just need to breathe and take it slow. Allah will take me to what is best for me like He always has.
I snap out of my thoughts when Huda comes up to me. "Are you mad at me?" I am taken aback by her question.
"What? No, dear," I softly tell her. "Why would I be mad at you?"
"I don't know," she answers in a small voice. "Why are you not eating with us?"
"I..." I can feel Azar's eyes on me, but I am determined to not look up. "I just wanted to talk to the staff. That's all. You can go. I'll be there in a minute," I gently explain to her, but she still looks sad, so I scoop her up in my lap and give her a kiss.
She giggles and then heads back to her table. I look at the staff, and they smile back at me. "You are spoiling them," the warden comments.
"Ah, I guess they deserve to be spoilt a bit," I oppose. As Huda joins her table, I notice Asif fidgeting with his food. The sight reminds me of his request for Eid. I turn to Ms. Neela and say, "Ms. Neela, I wanted to ask you if we can go visit Asif's father on Eid."
"Yes, of course," she approves. "Thank you for reminding me. I'll call the hospital about the visit."
I try not to look anxious as I walk back to the children's table. The kids make space for me such that I have to sit next to Azar. I sigh internally at how crazy my heart is and then sit down.
"Do you know how to braid hair?" Fatima asks Azar out of the blue.
He looks caught off guard by her question. "No, but I can learn."
"Abee, can you teach Bhai how to braid on Eid? I want to show Amir that men can braid too." She looks over at Amir, and he scowls in return.
"Yeah okay," I agree because I don't want to upset her, and it is a reasonable request.
"What about Mehndi?" Wafa asks, and I am vividly reminded of my ceremony. Azar in a green sherwani, the rose.
I push away the thoughts as if afraid Azar could read them. "I think that might be difficult to teach him," I respond. "It takes practice."
I feel relieved to be away from the table as I put away my plate, but then Azar comes up to me. When the kids are out of earshot, he says, "We forgot to get the Mehndi cones."
"Yeah, it totally slipped my mind," I say to him, glancing over at the girls.
"I'll get them tomorrow. How many should I buy?" He inquires, a bit embarrassed about his question.
"I think three cones would suffice," I answer, and we walk towards the dorms as we speak.
"What if I mess up her hair for Eid?" He asks, the panic apparent in his voice.
"You won't," I reassure him despite my urge to tease him about it. "You just need a bit of practice. I'll show you. Don't worry."
"Okay," he exhales, holding to every word of mine. "Just promise me you'll redo it if I mess up something. I don't want them to be upset on Eid," he adds at the end.
"Azar," I say exasperatedly, "You are overthinking this. The kids don't care about things like this so much."
"They care enough to ask," he points out.
"Okay fine. I promise," I repeat the word even though it holds too much chaos in my heart. "I'll redo it if they don't like how you do the braid," I spell it out for his satisfaction.
"Okay." We part ways after that. I retreat to my room while he returns to the dorm.
As I walk back up the stairs, I realize that I somehow managed to make everything more complicated than before.
They were about you.
Chills run down my spine as I remember Azar's words. I think I am utterly failing at doing the right thing.
I sigh. Maybe I need to talk to Dr. Laila again. I have been running away from everything my entire life. I need someone to help me learn how to stop, manage and overcome my fear.
However, the following morning I get busy with work and don't get the time to see Dr. Laila or anyone. Ms. Neela updates me on the trip schedule, and I have to make calls to the social workers to review our trip and sign legal documents.
At Iftar time, I see Azar in the usual swarm of kids. However, we don't talk much as I am swept away from the table instantly by Ms. Neela. She informs me that there is another potential sponsor, and it turns out to be Mr. Faisal. He heard of our orphanage name and wished to contribute.
Since I am so caught up with work, I message Azar that he can pray Tarawih by himself. I realize only hours later that tonight is the 29th night, which means there is a possibility that we won't ever get to pray Tarawih together again.
The thought saddens me more than I anticipated, so I decide, despite feeling exhausted, to make sure I go with him to Qayimulayl.
After I get ready, I go to the dorms. I feel a weird sort of anxiety wash over me due to the time of night. However, I find Azar awake, reading his manuscript in the light of his mobile.
As if he senses me, he meets my eyes, and my heart drops, but I don't want to seem nervous so I maintain contact. He gestures at me to wait outside and puts away the papers. He wears his slippers, and we both head out quietly as we don't want to disturb anyone.
There is a bit of time left before Qayimulayl starts, so we sit outside on the back porch. It is colder tonight, so I made hot chocolate for Azar and me. We drink quietly at first, lost in deep thoughts, and the entire time in our silence, I am trying to regulate and sort the feelings that overwhelm me.
"You said you had holidays, but you are working on an odd night," I observe aloud the easiest thing to say.
"I do have holidays, but I also have a deadline tomorrow morning," Azar explains. "Cruel world, but it is a brilliant story."
"Brilliant? What is it about?" I inquire, wanting to continue hearing his voice because it still calms my internal mess.
"Well, it is about a boy that stumbles upon a magical place," he narrates. "This place grants him three doors that represent three wishes. He can enter only one door at a time. Anxious about the future, the boy chooses the first door, and for the first choice, the boy asks to know the future." I wish I could see how everything between us unfolds, I think, and my stomach squirms. I focus back on the story. "However, no matter how much he tries to manipulate the future after knowing, all his choices lead to the same outcome as what he saw. Then the second time he stumbles upon the place again —the location is changed, and it quite later in the story— he is offered a second choice."
"What did he choose?" I prompt, intrigued.
"He decides that his mistake was that he asked for the knowledge of the future but not the power to control it. Frustrated with the mistakes he has already committed, he asks to have the power to change the past," Azar pauses to sip his hot chocolate. With a jolt, I remember how much I have to wish to have the power to change my past, to forget Raheesh.
"Yet when granted the wish, he finds out that changing one thing can vastly change the next, and he begins to struggle with his own identity. With infinite possibilities and infinite outcomes, all of which he can control, the life he spent loses meaning." Azar exhales. "Deep, right?"
"Yeah. It sounds very interesting," I comment. "What about the third choice?"
"That's where I disagree with the author," he informs me. "The third choice is that he decides to forget everything, the place, what he learned about the future, and what he tried to change in the past. He wants to forget the entire thing because it was too much for him."
"Why do you disagree? I'd want to forget too if I had that much knowledge," I think aloud.
"That's what I thought at first," he comments, and I notice a spark of passion in his eyes as he talks about it. It makes me feel too much, but I am unable to look away as if mesmerized. "If he forgets everything, then the entire story becomes pointless."
"What do you suggest?" I ask him, wondering if he has thought of an alternative ending.
"I think..." he stops, and I can see his mind working through it. "I think he should walk away from the third door; choose nothing," he concludes.
"Hm, how is that different from the other option?"
"The lesson the author wants to make is more apparent this way," he explains. "There is pain in his journey both ways, but if he forgets everything, he can stumble upon the place again, and then he will make the same exact choices that trouble him. The idea of the story is good, but it will fail without character development," Azar explains. "He needs to learn from the mistakes he made, with the first two doors, accept them and have the courage to live with them. Only if he walks away from the third door, gives in, and chooses the present, he can be at peace."
I ponder over his words. Courage. That is what I need. Have I learned nothing from my life?
"That's a good ending," I remark.
"You think so?" Azar sounds unsure.
"Yeah, what he learned is his own humanity. That's a powerful lesson," I share my thoughts.
My choice of words brings a smile to his face, and I look away, too aware, too suddenly. "Thanks for listening and the hot chocolate."
"No problem, I loved the story."
"Me too."
I keep our empty mugs in the kitchen, and then we both head for Qayim. I forget about the story the rest of the night, but after Suhoor, when I lie down to sleep, it keeps coming back to me, and more than that, my own comment about it.
I have to come to terms with my own humanity.
I keep wanting someone else to decide my life for me. Azar to decide, Madam Sabira to decide, Dr. Laila to decide, Ms. Neela to decide, Pops to decide on what is right, but in the end, it is up to me.
Everyone says I have to decide if Azar is worth me. No one understands that is not what I am struggling with. The truth is that I can't see myself. I can't see my strength. I can't see my worth. All I have ever seen is a broken child that never grew up with wounds that cannot heal.
How can I decide I am worth him?
My own humanity.
That is what I fear, but I must accept it.
I must embrace myself.
It is okay that you are Abeer.
It is okay.
It is okay that the life you have spent is your life.
It is okay that I...
I clear my throat. "It is okay that I am afraid," I announce to the room. "It is okay that I don't want to lose him. It is okay..." I pause, my breathing hitching. Despite no one being in the room, I expect the walls to judge me.
"It is okay that I still love Azar Hussain."
I listen to the silence that follows, and it sinks in. My fears are in vain because I am met with nothing but acceptance.
I breathe and lie down, yet my train of thoughts continues as if I am intoxicated by the revelation.
It is okay that despite everything he and I did, I still want to be happy.
It is okay that I love him. It is okay... I fall asleep amidst the thoughts, hoping and feeling I am close to myself and the truth more than ever.
I wake up feeling better and focused. Deciding that I need to get the words out right away before I lose courage again, I head straight to the dorm, but I cannot find Azar.
I realize after a while that he has left me a message on my mobile. It says he has left for Abha for work and home for the day.
I can sense myself worrying over what I overheard between Azar and Ahmed, but I calm myself. Everything is going to be okay. I have faced worse. I can do this.
Since the words come from a place of genuine surety than doubt, they do wonders for my soul.
Additionally, I am relieved that I am busy enough that my mind can be off it, but at Iftar time I begin to feel Azar's absence.
Ms. Neela tells me then that Azar gave her the Mehndi cones in the morning before leaving in case it is Chaand Raat tonight.
I don't want to give gifts to the kids without Azar, so when I learn that Ramadan is 30 days, I let myself rejoice silently.
I feel grateful that I prayed Qayim with Azar last night when I pray the last Tarawih of this year alone in my room. I check my mobile for any more messages or calls, but when I see none, I decide against calling Azar myself because I do not want to bother him. I have waited so long. I can wait a little more.
I shift my focus back to the prayer and spend the night in worship, feeling the immense weight of loss I experience at the end of every Ramadan. I don't hold back my tears as I talk to Allah because now that I can finally shed tears of peace, I don't want to ever stop. I am still shocked by how my duas have changed. I used to wish to die, for the darkness to overtake me. I used to wish every time my eyes closed, they never opened again. I never dared to dua for it by my tongue, but my heart rebelled and duaed for death in another language. But now I am begging Allah to let me live to experience the next Ramadan and let me witness all that He has in store for me. How can I ever express my gratitude to Allah, who chose to listen to my duas of guidance over my dua for death?
The peace makes me feel restless, but I succumb to sleep eventually.
It is the last day of Ramadan, so most of the staff leave today, and some will come back on Eid night to join us for the trip. Ms. Neela comes and wishes me goodbye, and even though she will be back soon, I feel sad to watch her go.
After Suhoor, Azar has left another message, asking me how I am and informing me that he will be back around Iftar as something has come up.
I reply to him that I am okay and add, "See you soon, In Sha Allah."
I lie down, but my heart is beating so fast that I can't fall asleep.
I take out my father's letter and read it once more. I pass my hand over his handwriting, hoping that if he was here, he would be proud of me.
Be brave in the face of life and be kind to yourself.
It is time to stop running.
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Assalamualikum warahamatullahi wabarakatahu
How are you all?
Alhamdulillah I am well and hyper, but happy hyper. XD
AHHHHHHH Uff I still can't process that I am uploading this chapter.
It is one of my personal favorites. Okay let's shut up and hear your thoughts:
1) So Azar being anxious about the braid XD Ah did anyone notice before how much Azar overthinks? Can you think of another incident where he did?
2) I love hot chocolate and cold nights. :P I love pretty eyes and soft voices. XD Okay okay, so random, but rate chai, coffee and hot chocolate in the order you like the most orrrr you can tell me what setting you like each drink in because I can't choose between the three.
3) Back to the chapter lol, what did you learn from the story Azar narrated? Do you agree with his remark about the last door? Any thoughts you'd like to share about it?
4) Abeer confessing to herself... how did you like it? We often confess to one another, but don't you think it is first important to confess to oneself?
5) Did you notice the change in Abeer's duas? Her character? We all talk about Azar's growth, but what do you think of hers? What is the most prominent change you feel?
6) Favorite line(s)
7) Favorite scene(s)
8) How was the chapter overall?
Btw the plural s shows my self awareness XD
The last line... I am proud of myself for writing it XD Okay too hyper. But truly, I love to play with last lines of chapters. It is time to stop running guys! AHHH the next chapter is the most anticipated chapter in the history of this book! Stay tuned! Share, vote, spread, comment, rejoice! It will be long and satisfying In Sha Allah.
(I love you guys)
Oh lastly, for those of you who missed it, check out my poetries on insta. It is called oureyes_tell and bear with me, I'll be badgering my followers for some days to do it XD.
Jazakallah Khairun for reading and supporting. Sorry for the long A/N. Stay blessed Ameen.