Out Of Wreckage?

Chapter Twenty Seven

The amount of hatred that I withheld for him couldn't be trapped in me after what happened.

His mere name just evoke all the worst of my emotions.

I lost everything that I loved. I had never done anything bad to anyone then why was my patience being tested?

I was blamed, I was abused by him for killing my child.
What was my fault? Arguing? Replying to one of his malign?

I bore everything quietly till now but I had a limit to my tolerance but in the end, it was my unborn child who got punished.

Strangers helped me when my husband was supposed to come to my aid.

If only, I had reached the hospital on time, my baby would have been alive.

Since I lost a part of me that day, the only person that helped me survive was my daughter, Bushra.
Every passing day made me tough like a rock. It was just because of her.

Aslam continued to torment me, take me against my will. His anger grew day by day which was because of his failure and it made my life miserable. There were times when there was no proper food in the house. For fulfilling my child's need, I sold some of my ornaments.

But few months ago, my prayers got answered when he got a job at the tailor shop. He had no other alternative but to accept it. A man like him was not desired at any suitable work place.

Yet the money which he earned every month couldn't pay for our comfort. I realised the value of food we wasted, the money that we spent freely, only after I had none of it.
I'm grateful that atleast we have a roof on her heads and sufficient food for us to survive.

I tried hard convincing him of letting me work but the more I tried, the more bruises I found on my body.
I could have left him, I wanted to leave him but I stayed for my daughter. By every passing day she got more attached to both of us and I couldn't do that to her.

Aslam was not a great husband. Infact, he was far away from being a decent one but he was a good father.
He loved Bushra despite the fact that she wasn't the child he wanted.
But who wouldn't love a child like her. She was very special. Marvelous, if I want to describe her.

I wished I could lock the time when I was with her. She grew up so fast. Her first words were the funniest combination of Mom and Dad in urdu.

Amba!

I couldn't help myself but giggled. She too clapped her hands.

Aslam wasn't there to witness her that day nor he was when she tried to take her feet move from one place to another.
Not even on her first day at school, when I went to drop her which is today.

"Ammi! Look." She pointed at the big building with a huge play ground. Her grin was infectious.

"I see you're excited."

"I am. I will have a lot of friends."

"I bet you would." I replied and pecked her forehead.

She didn't cry when the other children wailed to go home.
I waited till she got inside.

As I was about to leave, I heard someone call out my name.

"Rabia!"

I turned around to see Nida standing there.

My face lit up. I was seeing her after very long.

"Nida! Oh Allah! It's such a pleasant surprise."

"Indeed, it is." She smiled.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her.

"I work here. I got a part time job to teach in the kindergarten section. Infact, I'm starting today."