I thought I had no heart. I find I have, and a heart doesn't suit me.
— Oscar Wilde
"You're always telling me a story. I'll tell you one today."
The vermillion shades of sky at dusk reminds him of the day at beach with her. It was a warm day of late summer compared to this cooler one of early spring. He remembers her being happy then, and maybe he was happy too. But today, he's bathed in bliss though he knows she isn't. Leyla is becoming weaker at pretending, or maybe he has become better at reading her.
It is his thirtieth birthday today. She has baked him a cake— simple yet showing the heart she has put into it. Nothing could've given him anymore joy than this, and suddenly he understands what she meant when she said she appreciated gestures that showed love.
She has brought him a gift too but he hasn't unpacked it. She asked him not to do so yet. And with each passing second he's only becoming more curious of what's inside the box. But he remains patient for her.
"Tell me your story then," she says with a smile and leans into his side. He puts his arm around her.
They're sitting on the stairs of the patio at his house, his birthday cake and present lying on the table untouched. She wanted to see the artwork at sunset first and he agreed.
"Once upon a time there was a king," he begins. "He had a vizier, an adviser. One day the king asked him to tell him something that when he thought it during his happy moments, he'd become sad. And that when he thought of it during his sad moments, he'd become happy."
Leyla looks up at him in interest, those dark orbs instantly webbing words, trying to fabricate a response. But the web in her eyes becomes a mess, like some labyrinth, which he starts wandering into and is lost.
"What does the vizier say?" she asks.
"What do you think?"
She hums, thinking again, and he sees falling stars in her eyes, as if she has given up— as if the threads holding those stars have broken down.
"I can't think of any such thing," she replies.
"Well, the vizier was very wise," Burq says and she laughs softly, nudging him away.
"You mean to say I'm not?"
"Did I now?" he bugs before kissing her temple and continuing, "He told the king something that could make him sad in a happy situation and vice versa." He reaches out to tuck back her hair, staring into her eyes as his voice becomes melancholic, "he said: this time shall pass too. Every good moment, and sad ones too. And if you think of it in your hard times, it gives you hope. But if you think of it in your happy moments, it saddens you."
Her features soften into an unreadable expression as she searches his eyes. She presses her palm to his cheek, caressing his cheekbone with her thumb.
"What saddens you, Burq?"
"These moments, that they shall pass too. And I fear I've little left."
"Why do you think so?"
He gives her a sardonic smile and shrugs one shoulder. "My heart tells me, qalbi, and my heart is you."
"But I didn't say so," she excuses uneasily.
He holds her hands and nods. "I know." Then his smile turns into a plea. "Come home with me to Qatar. I want you to meet my family, introduce you to them as my wife. I want to start my life with you now, Leyla, formally."
She only smiles and squeezes his hands lightly. Burq gazes away up to the sky.
"See, you never say in words, but refuse me with your actions." He lets go of her hands. "And I'm a coward afraid of getting broken again, so I never push it."
"Burq." She touches his arm but he doesn't respond to her touch.
They remain silent for a while before he speaks, "I remember the day I met you for the first time in that library." He starts twirling his wedding band in his finger subconsciously. "I was there that day to check the courses. I wanted to take admission there and do MPhil in geology. Running into you was a beautiful coincidence. I remember I felt really happy that day in your company; I had felt happy after a long time. But asking you if I could see you again was unexpected even for my own self. I didn't know what I was doing." He chuckles to himself. "I just knew you had given me something I'd been seeking for long: joy. And I was selfish so I sought more of it with you. But marrying you was still out of the question, because I didn't look forward to marriage." He finally looks back at her. "I see God had other plans— better plans."
Leyla only looks back at him silently. He studies her face and his lips curl up ironically.
"You're going to leave me, aren't you?"
"I told you..." she mumbles feebly and leaves her response hanging in the air.
"You told me that you wanted divorce. And you told me why." He huffs out a mocking laugh as a dull ache starts pricking his heart now. "You told me you were going to break me but I didn't believe you. My bad for being foolish. I actually let you become my ruination. And now you're going to destroy me."
"Burq—"
"Shush." He puts his finger on her lips. "What if I say I won't divorce you?" he half threatens and half begs, as if trying to make a request. But she remains calm in front of him.
Leyla takes his wrist and kiss the inside of it. "Then don't," she whispers.
His brave facade melts against her as his feelings burn through him again. "But you're still going to leave me, aren't you?" he questions with a gripping fear.
She tugs in her lower lip between her teeth, staying silent, and he finds his answer. The ache within him turn to pangs. He shakes his head.
"Don't break me, qalbi."
His tone portrays his yearning. Somewhere in the back of his mind he always knew her purpose, their ending, but always denied it. Is this the price he pays for ignorance?
She holds his face in her hands and looks him in the eyes. "I'll never."
"Then don't leave me." He clutches her arms and pulls her closer. "Don't go back to being Brekhna."
She smiles sadly. "I'll always be Leyla to you, Burq. I'll always belong to you."
"Then don't do this, please," he requests again, more firmly. "I like to think of you as mine. If you tell me it's wrong, I'll stop. And I know you think of me as yours too. If you tell me it's wrong, I'll stop."
She sighs and releases him, rubbing her eyes. "Lawangeen had a job here, in New Zealand. He had settled here and started a life with Gulalai," she tells him. "When I escaped Asfandyar, he knew this was where I'd run to. And I knew the risks of coming here too, but I had nowhere else to go. I knew sooner or later he'd find me. But even if it wasn't here, he'd still have found me at another place. He's a powerful politician and I'm well aware of what he's capable of. Changing my name could only help me so much." She looks up at the sky. "I didn't intend on running from him forever. I only needed time till I could make him pay for his crimes and it's time now."
"Then let me help you," Burq suggests. "I'll come with you and we'll deal with this together. You don't have to fight him alone; you have me."
She turns to him and shakes her head in refusal. "No, Burq. My brother risked his life and lost it. I can't let you do the same."
"And I can't sit back and do nothing," he protests.
"You're not doing nothing." She locks his gaze as she declares, "You're going back to your home— to your family."
"What?" He blinks, letting out a humorless laugh. "Are you kidding me?"
"No," she insists with a poker face.
Burq pulls away from her. "I see your family as my family too. Spogmay and Gulalai are like my sisters. If you can see Mustafa as your own child, why can't I?"
Her irises turn tender and her orbs become glossy. "I respect this but—"
"But you'll still do what you want," he hisses in frustration this time. "Even if it means disregarding my feelings and breaking me."
"Yes," she hisses back before her voice wavers and she hiccups. His heart tears apart at seeing her like this. She clutches the front of his sweater. "Understand me, Burq. I can disregard your feelings, but not your life." Her fingers uncurl and travel up to his shoulders. "Only you alone in the whole world matters to me who needs to understand this. Even if I somehow give up this purpose, break the promise I made to myself— to my brother— and manage to forgive myself, but will Mustafa ever?"
Her words ring like bells in empty halls, echoing back until he's deaf. All he can see now and register are her tears, and her pain claws and rips each of his nerve. He cannot see her cry.
"Don't," he begs, urgently wiping away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. "Don't cry."
"You need to do this for me."
"I can do anything for you." He tugs her to his chest. "I can die for you, Leyla."
"You need to live for me, for my life lies in yours."
She buries her face in his chest, nuzzling his sweater, and he envelopes her in his arms. He gently rocks her body with his as if calming down a child. That was always her role to play with him, and he doesn't like switching of these roles. He doesn't like her pain.
"Promise me something," she speaks after a while, looking up at him.
He knows he's going to regret his response, but says nonetheless, "Anything."
"You'll go back to your home. You'll leave before me. I don't want to be the one leaving you when I know you're still waiting behind hoping for me to stay; I can't go through that test."
When he doesn't respond, she pulls away from him.
"Burq?"
He just hums. At this point his sanity is boiled and wasted.
"Promise me?" she urges.
"Okay," he agrees monotonously.
"And you'll never come looking for me?"
He just looks at her without replying.
"You won't risk your life for me, Burq. I can't live with any such guilt," she adds.
He nods wearily. "Anything else you want me to do?"
By now all his feelings have gone apathetic, vibrating like some purposeless atoms. She has already made her decision and he has nothing to do but to agree. He cannot forcefully stop her, no matter how selfish he becomes.
"Yes," she answers and once more caresses his cheek. "If I never return—"
"You will return," he cuts her off. "Or I'm going to burn in hell for breaking all my promises."
Leyla exhales slowly and rearranges her statement, "If you find another one while I'm gone, then move on from the idea of us. You've all the right to be happy in your life without me, and I'll never blame you."
He laughs at this and throws back his head, not believing what she's telling him. As if in the body of a man, he's but a joke.
"Ah, qalbi, don't you think this is you asking too much of me?" He stands up and looks down at her, all traces of laughter leaving his face. "This idea of us you're mentioning has become my whole life. Moving on from this is out of the question now."
She stands up too. "Burq—"
"Don't reason with me, Leyla." He turns around and walks towards the table. "I think I'm capable enough to at least make some of the decisions for myself concerning us. I know where my happiness lies," he glances at her, "and it lies with you. And if you aren't there to give me that, then I'll just do with our memories. So instead of telling me to move on, respect what I want."
He picks up the gift she has brought him and tugs off its wrapper carefully, revealing a pocket watch wrapped in a map.
"The place and time of where we met," she tells him with a melancholic smile. "You're the most precious blessing of my life, Burq."
He stares at her gift for a good while before placing it on the table and walking towards her.
"I want another gift from you."
"What?"
He stops in front of her and holds both of her elbows, pulling her closer. "Spend every moment of every day with me before you leave." His heart sizzles at his own words and he rests his forehead against hers. "Give me more memories to remember you by, habibi, so your remembrance shall never fade from my memory."
➳
Okay, no long speeches. But I want to thank you all who have been with me so far. Only one more chapter left. And I'm grateful to each of you, the silent readers included, but especially those who always voted, and specifically those who always commented. I've found friends in you all. Thank you for supporting me and making it possible for me to complete this book. This is the shortest I've taken to write a book. And the love of my readers is forever the reason.
I love you all. Stay happy and blessed, always.
Laiba.
➳