AUGUST 1921
NADIR
I was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other, only to be startled slightly when my wife scurried into the kitchen and pressed a rather firm kiss to my cheek.
"Adele? Where are you rushing off to?" I asked as I turned to watch her zip around the kitchen to grab an apple, which would presumably serve as her breakfast.
"I have a class to teach and I'm late to the studio!" she replied as she hurried back over to me, set her apple on the table and held my face in her hands before kissing me. "I will see you later, my dear; I'll pick up our groceries on the way home."
"Adele, darling, it-" I tried to say.
"Don't worry about trying to do the shopping, I promise I can handle it," Adele said with a nod.
"But Adele-"
"No, Nadir, really, I will manage on-"
Groaning quietly in my slight frustration, I stood up and pulled her into a kiss to cut her off mid-sentence, smiling through it slightly when I felt her noticeably relax. "I know you can handle it, love," I said softly as we pulled apart. "I'm only trying to save you the extra stress and remind you that it's Saturday and you don't have any classes today."
I watched as she took a moment to process what I had said and couldn't help but laugh when she wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my chest. "I can't believe I've been running around like a chicken with its head cut off and I don't even have anywhere to go," she mumbled with a quiet laugh.
"You've been very busy as of late and you enjoy your work; you only wanted to ensure you were on time," I replied, only to add, "Even if there was nothing to be on time for."
Adele sighed as she pulled away from my arms and ran her fingers through her hair, which had been left unbraided for once; she had started leaving it draped down over her shoulders lately, knowing how fond I was of it. "I suppose so," she said with a sigh. "I'll still need to go out now and do our shopping, class or not."
"Don't you want to eat breakfast before you go?"
"No, no, I'll be fine; I have my apple to eat. Besides, if I go now, I can beat the afternoon rush and be home with plenty of time to spend with you."
I smiled, already thinking of how we could spend our afternoon to enjoy the summer day. "I look forward to that," I said with a nod. "I will see you later on, then."
She nodded, smiling at me and tipping her head up to meet me for a kiss. "I love you," she said softly.
"And I love you more, always and forever," I replied, using the newfound phrase we had taken to saying to each other.
With another smile and kiss, Adele stepped out of the kitchen and left the house shortly thereafter, leaving me on my own to go about my day. Setting a record on to play, I got to work on cleaning the kitchen so I could have the rest of the morning to myself, but not much time had passed - perhaps the span of about three songs on the record - when a knock on the door interrupted my cleaning endeavours, and I opened it to find Gustave on the front step.
"Good morning, Gustave. What brings you by?" I asked as I shot him a smile, only to frown and glance over his shoulder. "And without Lara on top of that."
"I wanted to talk to you, Uncle Nadir. It's a bit of a...sensitive, private topic, which is why Lara isn't here," Gustave sighed. "That's also why it was easier for me to come to you instead of Papa. You know how he is."
"I do know, yes. Come in, Gustave, and I'll put some tea on for the two of us." I opened the door wider and let him step inside before we made our way to the kitchen. While I set the kettle to boil on the stove, I noticed just how off he was; not nearly as talkative as usual and alternating between fidgeting with his ring and tapping his foot, just like his father did. Something was definitely off and I knew that I needed to get to the bottom of it before he left my home that day. "What is going on?" I inquired, leaning against the kitchen counter and folding my arms across my chest.
Gustave sighed, letting a moment go by before he finally spoke up about what was bothering him: "Lara and I still can't have a baby."
Definitely a sensitive topic; I could see why he hadn't broached the subject with Erik. "I'm sorry, Gustave. I'm sure that-"
"Two miscarriages and more flat-out failed attempts than I can count," Gustave abruptly continued, clearly too agitated to hear me out before he had finished what he had to say. "I don't understand why our efforts have accomplished nothing. I know we aren't doing anything wrong if that's even possible, so I don't know why we still don't have a baby! I mean, my parents had me their first time and they weren't even trying!"
I had to bite my lip at that to keep any sort of laughter from slipping out; as true as that comment was, it was far from the right time to be laughing about the more intimate parts of my best friend's life. I already knew that Gustave wouldn't appreciate it in the least, so I found myself in one of those moments when I truly hated the idea of having to be an adult.
"Well, I'm not going to speak on your father and mother's...fertility, but I know that it's been difficult for you and Lara. I'm sorry that you've had to deal with this for so long now," I said, trying to be as gentle as possible given how stressed he was.
"I'm not so worried about myself as I am about Lara. She's really been neglecting herself amidst all of this," Gustave said with a shaky sigh. "She's so distraught; between losing the babies and the struggle to simply get pregnant, not to mention her feeling that she's disappointing me, she's a mess."
"And I'm sure you've comforted her as best you can and promised that you aren't disappointed in her," I said as I took the squealing kettle off of the stove and poured the water into the teapot to steep, all while fighting my own emotional battle as memories of my own experience with the same dilemma along with Rookheya flooded my mind. I knew sharing my experience would likely help, but whether or not I could control my own emotions long enough to tell the stories was up for debate.
"Of course I have. I tell her that constantly and yet she still feels that way. She blames herself for it, but it can't be her fault; there isn't a thing wrong with her, she's perfect. The only logical explanation is that it must be me. I just hate that I can't give her the family that she wants and deserves."
I set two teacups and the teapot down on the table with a sigh, watching Gustave closely. Seeing the boy I considered a son so upset and anxious - twisting his wedding ring around his finger, breathing shakily, and failing to hide the tears pooling in his eyes - broke my heart, and I realized then that showing him that I understood his pain was the best way to help.
"I know how you feel. My wife and I struggled just as you and Lara are," I began as I sat across from him, folding my hands together on the tabletop. "We tried to get pregnant for what felt like centuries, losing a baby along the way. It broke Rookheya's heart; she didn't get out of bed for a couple of days after the miscarriage and hardly said a word to me. It destroyed me to see her in pain. When we finally did conceive, though, we were blessed with Reza for the short time the three of us had together.
"I urge you to keep trying, Gustave. You have done nothing to deserve punishment from the universe or from God or the Devil or whatever it is you may believe; neither has Lara. The best things come to those who wait. When Reza finally entered my life, I was the happiest I had ever been, even with the heartbreak of losing my wife. Just don't lose hope."
Gustave glanced up at me then and I could tell that he had questions; the slightly furrowed brow gave it away, just as it did with Erik. "Your wife...how much time did she have with your baby?" he finally asked.
"A matter of a few hours. Reza was born in the mid-afternoon and Rookheya died late in the evening," I explained, trying to force the memories of that night from my mind. "The pregnancy had been difficult and the birth itself was no different. She was too weak, had lost too much blood. There wasn't anything to be done about it, sadly."
Another pause. I didn't push him to continue, vouching to prepare my cup of tea instead. We were discussing a heavy topic, one that was emotional for us both; I knew he would resume our conversation when he was ready to do so.
"What was it like, then?" Gustave eventually asked. "Raising your son alone?"
"The difficulties never truly ended, from the moment he was born to the moment I lost him."
"I...I'm sorry. You just never seem to talk about him, so I thought I would ask."
He was clearly feeling guilty about broaching such an emotional subject with me, but he couldn't have known just how heartwrenching the story was; I didn't talk about it if I could help it, and Erik surely never brought it up. There was no other way for Gustave to know just how much it pained me to discuss what he was inquiring about.
"There is no need to apologize, Gustave. There is no way to escape the emotional side of this story; as many happy memories as I have surrounding Reza, the painful ones are just as plentiful," I explained. "It's difficult to talk about him, truthfully, but I don't mind discussing him if it will help you in the long run. I can put aside my emotions for a while."
"I don't want to pry, Uncle Nadir. It's just...how did you know that you were ready to be a father?" Gustave inquired. "How did you know that you weren't making some of the biggest mistakes?"
"Well, in terms of whether I was ready to be a father, the best decision that Rookheya and I made was to wait to have a child. We knew we didn't want to have a baby right away once we got married because of how young we were; because our marriage was arranged, I was only 18, while Rookheya was just 15, so we didn't want to rush into anything. We thought it through, talked about it and made sure we had everything for when and if our little one arrived, and I'm sure that you and Lara have done the same.
"When it came to knowing if I was making mistakes or not...I never truly knew. First-time parenting is all trial and error, Gustave. You never know if what you're doing is correct for some time, but it's all instinct. Not to mention that you'll have it easier than I did; you'll have your wife with you to help. You won't have to worry about having to hire a stranger to nurse your baby, you won't be up all hours of the night because your wife isn't there to help you soothe them. I was a single parent, which made it infinitely more difficult. Still, you just take it one day at a time. That's the best you can do, really."
Gustave sighed as he absentmindedly stirred his spoon around his teacup. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I haven't the slightest idea what I'd do without Lara. I don't even want to imagine the possibility," he said quietly. "I just don't know what to do and that is utterly terrifying for me. I have no clue how to help Lara through this, so how on earth am I supposed to be able to help a child through their problems?"
"I completely understand, Gustave. Seeing your wife deal with something like this is...a nightmare. Having to watch Rookheya try to cope with losing a baby while attempting to process my own grief was one of the most painful things I have ever had to do, and considering what my life was like in Persia, that is saying a lot. Still, her just knowing that I was there by her side to help her through it all made an enormous difference and I'm sure Lara feels the same way."
"I hope so," he said quietly, looking at me and managing to give me a small smile. "I'm sorry that I'm bringing all of these memories up; I can't imagine how painful that must have been for the two of you. I just...I knew you would understand, so I figured I would come to you to talk about it."
I nodded and reached over to set my hand atop his, hoping to comfort him and simultaneously distract myself from the tightness in my throat. "Don't apologize, please. We are having this conversation for a reason, and that is to help you deal with such a difficult thing as this. I'm glad that you felt you could come to me for help," I said. "Many of my memories about Reza and Persia overall are painful, as I said, and they are for your father as well. That's why we don't bring it up very often."
"I'm sure it is. Papa never brings Reza up if he can avoid it, and I remember how emotional you got the first time he came up when we first met all those years ago," Gustave said, his voice soft as he spoke.
It was then that a pensive expression crossed his face, his brow furrowing. "You never did really explain what happened to him. All you and Papa ever told me was that he was very ill."
"He was sick, yes; ever since he was a baby, he was ill, and he only got worse as he got older. No one could diagnose it; only now are doctors and scientists seeing similar symptoms in children, though it remains nameless," I explained. "When your father first arrived in Persia with me, Reza was still at a point where he could walk, albeit unsteadily. Erik told me not long after they met that the boy was dying, which I had heard before but refused to believe for so long. Something about hearing it from him, though, made it real to me; perhaps it was the sudden gentility as he inquired about my wife and son. Anyhow, over the three years that your father stayed with us, my son's muscles deteriorated to a point where he couldn't walk. He lost his sight and struggled to speak as well."
"That must have been awful for you both to have to watch. From what I hear of him, he was a kind-hearted little boy; Papa loved him so much," Gustave said with a nod. "It truly is terrible when something like that happens to a child. It begs the question of what they could have possibly done to deserve it."
"Trust me, I asked myself that every single day: 'After struggling for so long to finally have a child, why did my little boy have to cope with a debilitating disease that no doctor could understand?' To me, it was the cruellest thing that could have happened to a boy with a heart like his. I couldn't wrap my head around it."
A pregnant silence fell over the room then, which I was grateful for; I was battling with my emotions more than I had had to in quite some time. I was determined to maintain my composure so I could help Gustave to the best of my ability, but talking about my son in such detail wasn't making it easy. I never talked about him - about that night - with anybody; Adele didn't even know, so to be disclosing the details that I had given to Gustave was taking its toll on my heart.
"Then what happened?" Gustave asked, his hesitancy about asking for more details plain in his voice.
I bit my lip, not sure how to approach the details of what happened next in the battle with my son's health. Gustave knew well how much Reza meant to Erik; how was I meant to explain to him that his father played a part in my son's death, as merciful as that act may have been?
"Uncle Nadir?" I heard Gustave ask as I finally pulled myself out of my own thoughts. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, yes, just...gathering my thoughts," I replied, which wasn't completely untrue, even though 'gathering my thoughts and trying to manage my emotions' would have been more accurate.
"Of course. Just tell me whenever you're ready."
When he had become the comforter and I the one being comforted, I had no idea, but at that moment, I wasn't entirely opposed to the role reversal that had taken place. "With...with Reza's condition and its severity, your father could tell how much of a toll it was taking on both me and my boy, so, when he was about twenty-one and Reza about ten, he offered me a way to...put an end to it," I eventually said, trying to phrase my explanation as delicately as possible.
"Do...do you mean to say that Papa helped to end Reza's pain in the way that I think you mean?" Gustave asked, his curious expression quickly fading in favour of one of shock.
"I do, Gustave, yes."
He gasped. In all honesty, I didn't think he could help it; hearing something like that about his father had to be far from easy.
"I know it's almost impossible to wrap your head around that, believe me. If you need a moment to just...process that, take your time. Ask the questions that I'm sure you have whenever you're ready," I said, allowing the room to fall silent once more. The memories were rushing over me like a tidal wave; I had to rub my eyes with my thumb and forefinger to wipe the tears welling up there before they got the chance to fall.
When I dropped my hand back to the table, resting atop the other, gently brushing my wedding band with my fingers, I glanced across the table and found Gustave looking at me. He did just that for a moment or so, a distinct combination of confusion and pain on his face, and then he finally spoke, simply whispering one word.
"How?"
PERSIA 1876*
I had fought to ignore the clear signs that had been presenting themselves to me for so long. Over the past two months, it had been almost easy to forget just how fragile my son was; Erik brought music and magic to our home, making Reza smile and giggle more than he had in months. Erik truly had painted the rainbow he had promised, and I had no need to decide where it would end, which I was more than happy about. I never wanted to even consider doing such a thing, taking Erik up on the offer he had once made.
Then, all of a sudden, one fateful night, I was faced with that very decision.
Reza had been confined to his bed for some time by then, the muscles in his legs too weak to carry him anymore. I had taken to sitting at his bedside whenever I could, helping him to eat and drink, no matter how slow that process may have been. On that night, however, he sputtered when I brought the glass to his lips, the little bit of water that he had managed to sip dribbling onto his chin. Tears immediately pricked at my eyes, the sudden worsening of his condition terrifying me.
"Reza...Reza, please try to drink your water," I said quietly, sighing when my son merely groaned in response. "I'll help you, I promise, Reza, just-"
"Baba...I can't," Reza managed to say, his voice breaking off into a quiet whimper.
That heartbroken expression - the pain and fear in his voice - was enough to make me abandon my pleas entirely in favour of gently holding his hand in order to soothe him. "Okay, okay, that's alright. It's okay," I replied as I reached over with my other hand to smooth down his hair, the cold sweat on his brow only solidifying the decision I had finally come to. "I...I'm going to ask Erik to come home, alright? I will be right back, I promise."
I stayed by his side until his eyes closed again; only then could I pull myself away from him to leave the room and make my way to my study to find Darius. When he wasn't handling meals and other household chores for me or shadowing me at the palace, he busied himself with organizing the paperwork that I so often left a complete mess in my study. A servant though he may have been, I counted him as a friend, a confidante; a son, even. I was comfortable going to him with issues as delicate as the one at hand.
"Master Khan," he said, bowing his head as I stepped into the room. "I finished getting today's letters in order and was just about to freshen your cup of tea."
"Thank you, Darius, but you can put that off for the moment," I sighed, hesitating to make my request. Vocalizing it just made it all real and I wasn't ready for that yet.
"Sir?"
"I need you to send word to Erik and have him return here."
As soon as the words left my mouth, there was a change in Darius' disposition; he straightened up, a serious expression formed on his face with a distinct look of sympathy in his eyes. "Of course. I will do that right away, sir," he said, his tone gentle as he stepped past me into the hall.
I walked out of the study a moment later, but I only made it to just outside of Reza's room when a sob racked my body as I heard the front door open and close when Darius stepped out. That simple sound made everything hit me full force; I had just sealed my son's fate. I had requested the presence of the man who had the means to end the life of my only child - the only living memory of Rookheya I had left.
As I leaned against the wall outside of my son's bedroom, trying to steady my breathing and dry the tears streaming down my face, I heard Reza manage to quietly call out for me. Immediately, any worries about my own wellbeing were thrown from my mind; what mattered was trying to help my son when he could no longer do anything to help himself.
Opening the bedroom door, I swiftly stepped over to his bed, sitting in my chair beside it and taking his hand, then squeezing it when he called for me again. "I'm right here, Reza, shh. Baba's right here," I whispered, lifting his hand to my lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.
"It...it hurts, Baba," Reza said, his voice weak and his words slurred together slightly. He had turned to look at me, his eyes open slightly, but I knew he couldn't see me; he hadn't seen my face for almost three years.
"I know it hurts, I'm so sorry," I replied, squeezing my eyes shut and letting tears fall onto my cheeks when I heard the quiet, pained whimper that escaped him. I didn't bother asking what was causing him pain; with how weak he'd become, it could have been anything, and treatment was essentially futile with the state of his health.
We fell silent then save for the lullaby I was quietly singing as I gently smoothed down Reza's hair; the song was one that Rookheya had often sung while she was pregnant, so my son had recognized the tune since he was a baby. I knew the tune off by heart, after listening to my wife sing it so often and singing it so much myself, but thinking of never singing it again only made tears fill my eyes, the melody of the song becoming much more strangled than before.
"Baba, where's Erik?" Reza asked weakly. Just from the sound of his voice, I could tell how quickly his strength was waning; if he kept talking, he wouldn't have the energy for much else that night.
"Erik was working tonight. Darius sent for him, he's coming," I said with a nod, managing a small smile at Reza's desire to have his closest friend nearby.
"Okay. He's fixing my music man so they can play the violin for me tomorrow," Reza replied, only for his voice to give out in a way for a fit of coughs.
The slight smile on my face dropped and made way for more tears when I heard what he'd said; I wasn't sure if there would even be a tomorrow for him. "I'm sure it will sound beautiful," I croaked, smiling weakly at my son despite knowing he couldn't see me.
My heart skipped a beat when I heard the front door open and I couldn't make myself move for a moment, too afraid to face the same man I had summoned. Eventually, I forced myself to stand and shuffle out of the room, only to slow to a stop when I saw Erik standing in the front hall. I knew his attire well, had become accustomed to the porcelain mask that seemed to glow in the moonlight and the billowing black cloak draped over his shoulders. Now that the Khanum's Angel of Death was standing in my foyer instead of in court, though, the life of my child at risk rather than that of a criminal, a wave of panic rushed over me.
"Darius told me to return, though he didn't say much else," Erik said, his gaze - one that was firm as always, but with an underlying glimmer of sympathy behind it - locked on me. "What has happened, Daroga?"
"He...Reza has gotten worse," I explained, my voice, so broken and quiet, sounding foreign to my own ears.
Erik's one visible brow quirked up at that. "He has been getting worse for months, Nadir."
"You don't think I've noticed?" I immediately snapped in response, but stopped and took a deep breath when I felt tears pricking my eyes again. "He can't even drink anymore, Erik."
His resolve seemed to falter with that news. "What do you mean he cannot drink?"
"What do you think I mean? When I was helping him to drink, he choked, and when I asked him to try again, he simply said 'I can't'."
"So you summoned me to take me up on the offer that I made you," Erik said, stating the obvious but still looking for my confirmation.
I said nothing. I couldn't bear to acknowledge that I had asked him home to end my son's life; I wasn't ready to hear those words leave my mouth.
My silence seemed to prove to be the affirmation he needed, as he stepped through the door to the kitchen, leaving me alone in the foyer to make a pathetic attempt at controlling myself. He returned shortly after with a bowl of sherbet, which he set on a side table before producing a small vial of colourless liquid from the sleeve of his robe and pouring it into the bowl. "It will be quick and painless," he said as he held out the bowl to me. "I assure you, he will feel nothing."
My eyes widened, a newfound sense of panic washing over me as I realized that he was expecting me to be the one to administer the concoction that would stop the beating of my little boy's heart.
"I...I can't. This was a mistake, just leave it be," I stuttered.
"Daroga-"
"No, Erik, I said, leave it! Go and return to your work, just leave. I'll let nature take its course," I said firmly.
"Nature can be brutal, Nadir. Leaving Reza in its hands may not be the kindest decision for him," Erik replied.
I frowned at that. "What are you talking about?"
"Leaving the boy to die completely naturally may not go smoothly. It would be slow and likely painful, given the constant ache in his body. Now that he seems to choke easily, his life could end with him suffocating in his sleep," Erik said. "Will you really abandon your boy in that way when you could make it so much more peaceful for him?"
A silent sob racked my body as I turned my back on him and buried my face in my hands. "I'm his father...how can you possibly know or claim to understand the feeling of being told to take the life of your own child?" I managed to ask.
We fell quiet for a moment, my quiet crying the only sound breaking the silence, and I only lifted my head when I felt Erik gently set his hand on my arm.
"Don't misunderstand me, Nadir; this is far from easy for me," he said gently. "If I could find a way to cure Reza and give you back your strong, curious boy, you know I would, but the last thing I want is for him to suffer, which is why I am asking you to reconsider."
Fresh tears filled my eyes as I realized that I had to change my mind; it was selfish of me to keep my child alive, only for him to suffer every single day. "I...I can't do it myself," I croaked.
"Then you won't. This burden is no longer yours," Erik replied with a slight nod.
I nodded in return, looking down at my feet for a moment, only to lift my head and reach out to grab my friend by the sleeve of his robes before he could walk towards Reza's room. "C-can I at least say goodbye? Please?" I asked, hiccuping through my words.
"Of course. Just tell me when you're...ready," Erik said gently, stepping away to grab the bowl of sherbet and sit aside to wait for me to return.
With a deep breath, I made my way back into Reza's bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed to look at him. I had always loved how much he looked like his mother, but now that he resembled how weak and pale she had looked on the night of her death, I would have preferred that he looked nothing like her.
I leaned forward and gently gathered my son in my arms so I could hold him to my chest, being sure to listen for any sign that he was in pain. "I love you so much, Reza. Thank you for the beauty and joy you've given me. You're such an incredible little boy and I love you for that. I'm-" I said, only to pause for a moment when my voice broke off and more tears ran down my face. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more. I'm so sorry."
I pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, leaning my head against his for a few moments before I pulled myself away from him. I took his stuffed bear - the same one his mother had bought for him while she was pregnant - and set it under his arm on his chest so he could hold it, then took a moment to simply look at him, trying to memorize every feature of him.
I finally managed to make my feet move and stepped out of the room, making my way back to the front of the house and finding Erik still standing in the same spot I had left him. "You...you can go in," I croaked, giving him a slight nod.
He returned the gesture as he stepped over to me. "Wait for me here," he said gently, and I watched as he picked up the Qur'an from a nearby table and made his way towards Reza's room.
As numb as I felt as I sank into a chair, I couldn't help but think of the fact that Erik had brought the holy texts of a faith he didn't belong to into that room with him...all for Reza's sake. He truly did intend to make such a tragic process as easy on the child - and me - as possible.
Time seemed to slow as I sat in that chair, with each tick of the hands of the clock in the room tormenting me. Finally, I couldn't wait for Erik any longer; I got to my feet and walked down the hall, completely unprepared to see the lifeless body of my son, but not wanting him to be without me, whether he knew he was or not.
I slowly opened the door to the room, the shaking in my hands making it difficult to turn the knob, and took a few small steps inside. Erik turned to me then; his cloak caught the breeze from the open window, only adding to the ominous front he so often put up, but his posture was slumped and he looked more drained than usual. The night's events were taking a heavy toll on him just as they were me.
He held Reza in his arms, almost cradling him against his chest, as he brought him over to me, and it was then that I was able to see the glistening tears in his eyes that he was refusing to let fall. Always so determined to be strong, even in the face of tragedy, though with all he had been through in only 21 years, I couldn't say I was shocked.
I reached out with a shaky hand to gently smooth down Reza's hair, making sure not to move his head from where it rested against Erik's chest. "There is no God but Allah and Muhammad is his Prophet," I whispered, making one last call to my faith, my god, in what was arguably the darkest moment of my entire life.
The only response from my child was a quiet sigh, and another moment passed before Erik carefully laid him in my arms. I quickly realized that the slow rise and fall of his chest had stopped, and it occurred to me then that Erik had waited until he knew Reza had passed before he let me hold him, taking yet another burden onto his own shoulders; I truly never would be able to express to him the extent of my gratitude for all he had done.
A quiet sob escaped me as I sat down on Reza's bed, my knees too weak to keep me standing any longer, and I leaned my forehead against my son's. "Âsheghetam, azizam,"** I breathed, switching to my mother tongue as if to keep the expression between me and my son, even though Erik still stood in the room and spoke the language fluently. I wanted to feel like it had just been the two of us at the end.
The only thing that pulled me out of the fog of my own grief was when Erik moved to leave the room. A small part of me wanted to hate him for all he had done - for ending my son's life, for making idiotic decisions that I had to deal with, which pulled me away from Reza when he had needed me - but simultaneously, he had made my life and Reza's life so much better in so many ways. I didn't want him to go, I realized; I needed a friend for support, and he was the friend that I had.
"Erik," I said, my voice hoarse from the constant crying I had been doing over the course of the day. He turned back to me immediately, and I didn't miss the tear stains on his cheek. "Stay here. Please."
He thought about refusing, I noticed; his fingers twitched as they always did when he was faced with a big decision, and yet, he made his way back over to the bed without a word and kneeled in front of me. He slipped his mask off, only comfortable enough to do so with the darkness of the room, and carefully took Reza's limp hand before he quietly spoke in his own native language of French. I may not have understood, but I knew it was a goodbye. I knew Erik well enough to be sure of that.
We shared in our grief in silence; I cried and he wept in silence, I pressed my lips to my son's forehead and he held Reza's small hand gently in his own. I had never felt so alone and broken before, but as Erik and I finally looked at each other and he managed to give me a small, weak smile, I knew that I was never going to have to be truly alone; I had a friend who understood the pain I felt better than anyone, and that was irreplaceable.
As I finished recounting the story, it was as if I had snapped myself out of a daze. I was well aware of the tears that had pooled in my eyes and the few that had fallen onto my face, I had never told the story to anyone before, so for every detail to come out all at once was incredibly difficult.
I turned my head when I felt Gustave wrap his arm around my shoulders and found him sitting beside me, having moved at some point while I recounted the story. He had tears in his eyes as I looked at him, whispering, "I'm so sorry."
I managed to give him a tight-lipped smile and a slight nod in response. "Thank you," I whispered back. "I didn't expect to get so emotional, I-"
"No, don't apologize. You have good reason to be emotional about something like that," Gustave said. "I...I'm not really sure what to say. I suppose it was better for Reza in the end, then. I just can't believe it happened."
"Believe me, Gustave. Neither can I."
He sighed, looking down at his lap for a moment as he undoubtedly processed everything he had just been presented with. "It just goes to show that we are never ready for the biggest decisions, doesn't it?" he finally asked as he glanced back up at me.
"No, you never are. It doesn't matter how old you are, how much you've seen or been through. Weighty decisions never come easily," I replied, setting my hand on top of his.
"Thank you for telling me all of this, Uncle. I know it's hard for you to recall it all."
"It is, yes, but I know that stories like that make you realize that it isn't just you who struggles with this sort of thing. That feeling of helplessness when it comes to your family is a universal thing, Gustave, and as difficult as it is, you're going to get through it. Your struggles will disappear and you will be blessed; trust me, when you're holding your little baby in your arms, nothing else matters."
Gustave smiled at me then before he wrapped his arms around me to hug me tight. "Thank you, Uncle Nadir," he said quietly.
"Of course, Gustave. Anything for you."
The rest of the day had been far from easy for me. My emotions had been thrown entirely out of whack; I found myself lacking motivation to really do much of anything, wanting to bury myself in my own memories. I knew it wouldn't take long for Adele to notice; she knew me well and caught on when things weren't right, but I tried to keep my feelings to myself despite that knowledge.
In the end, though, my charade started to fall apart after dinner. The two of us were washing the dishes together, and while Adele was telling me about something that had happened while she had been out, - what exactly, I couldn't recall - I was too busy running through my own memories to really pay attention. The only thing that pulled me out of my daze was when I flinched as Adele pinched my arm.
"Hm? Yes, dear?" I asked, drying off the plate I was holding and setting it in the cupboard.
"What has gotten into you?" Adele asked with a frown. "You've been off all night."
"No, no...nothing is wrong," I insisted.
Adele tossed her dishtowel over her shoulder and crossed her arms. "What was I just talking about?"
"Your day at the market and the new set of linens that you found."
"Yes, I did talk about that ten minutes ago. Then I talked about how I went to Madeleine's house and did a quick, impromptu ballet lesson with Elizabeth because she wouldn't stop begging me."
I looked down at my hands, feeling my ears flush as she uncovered the fact that I hadn't been listening. "I'm sorry. I'm just...feeling a bit off tonight, that's all," I said quietly.
"My darling, what's going on?" Adele asked, reaching over to take my hand and gently run her thumb over my knuckles. "Talk to me. I can't help if I don't know what's happening."
"There's not much you can help with when it comes to memories," I replied, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead.
"Can you at least tell me what sort of memories? What brought them on?" Adele requested. "You don't have to tell me any details if it hurts to do it. I just need an idea so I can at least try to help."
I sighed, knowing that I couldn't keep up the front of lying to her any longer. I was too drained to do it, and I hated keeping things from her when she was asking to know. "Gustave came by not long after you left. He was looking for advice because he's distraught over him and Lara still struggling to have a baby, and then he started asking about Reza and what it was like raising him, so I...I told him the story of what happened."
A moment passed while Adele thought about that, and then she wrapped her arms tightly around me, leaning her head against my chest. "I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. I know how hard that is for you to talk about," she said softly.
"I appreciate it, my love. Believe me, I hate to keep anything from you, especially about something so near to my heart, but it...I've already recounted the entire story today and cried about it. I'm not quite sure I can do that again. Not tonight," I replied as I set my hands on her waist to keep her close to me.
"I understand, it's alright. I know how painful it is for you, you don't have to tell me anything until you're ready," Adele said, looking up at me and giving me a reassuring smile. "When and if you're ever ready to tell me, I will be right there to listen to you. All I can say now is that I'm so sorry that you ever had to go through that."
"We play with the cards we are dealt, Adele, and that just so happened to be one of the cards in my hand. There was nothing to be done," I said softly.
Adele sighed as she reached up to cup my cheek in her hand, and I found myself leaning into her touch as she did. "I just hate knowing you were in so much pain," she whispered.
I shot her a small smile, turning my head to press a kiss to her palm. "I appreciate it, my dear. But now that I have you, the more painful memories get pushed aside most of the time because I have so many beautiful things to focus on instead," I replied. "When I have you to think about, there's no room for such negative thoughts."
I couldn't help but laugh quietly when her cheeks flushed at the comment. "Well, I'm glad that I can help to make things at least a little bit easier for you. You've lived a difficult life and you deserve none of it," she said.
"It had its good moments. I had my first love and my son, I had my best friend...and now I have you. If I had to wait my entire life and go through all those trials to end up at this moment right here, it was all worth it."
Adele smiled up at me. "I love you so much," she said quietly.
"I love you more," I whispered, cupping her face in my hands as I leaned down to kiss her. "Always and forever."
~~~~~
updated: 02-18-21
word count - 7503
sorry for the angst, but with a situation like the one we're in, there is no avoiding it. hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!