Eternity

Chapter 8

Assalamu Alaikum wa Rahmatullah wa barakatuhu

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Ayzal entered the room, Yusra trailing her dress behind and guiding her to sit on the bed. As Ayzal took in the oppressive gloom of the room, accentuated by its grey furnishings and dim lighting, a wave of anxiety and unease washed over her. The room, though neatly arranged, seemed to echo her inner turmoil with its stark, unwelcoming atmosphere.

"I wish I could stay," Yusra said with a sad smile, "but you know..." With those words, she left, leaving Ayzal alone with her mounting apprehensions about what lay ahead. The door clicked softly behind Yusra, and the silence that followed felt heavier than before.

Her first instinct was to shed her cumbersome dress, take a long, hot shower, and find solace in sleep. The idea of washing away the day’s events and sinking into the comfort of sleep was a tempting escape. Just as she began to rise, the door suddenly burst open with a force that rattled the room. Ayzal, her face veiled, strained to see who had entered, but all she discerned was a figure with their back turned. The door slammed shut with equal intensity, sealing them in.

Ayzal’s throat tightened with fear, making it difficult to breathe. She gulped hard, trying to dispel the lump forming within. In a desperate attempt to calm herself, she took deep, steadying breaths, the only sound in the room the click of the door latch. When Zayan finally turned to face her, the chill that ran down her spine was unmistakable.

'Danger,' Ayzal thought, her mind racing. Zayan exuded an intimidating aura, a stark contrast to his brother Murad's more approachable demeanor. The very presence of Zayan seemed to cast a shadow over the room.

The mention of Murad pierced her heart with a sharp, relentless ache. Tears welled in her eyes, but she brushed them away fiercely, refusing to let her emotions overwhelm her in this precarious moment. She thought of how different things could have been with Murad by her side, and the pain of that loss was a heavy burden to bear.

Zayan disappeared into the restroom, reemerging soon after freshening up. Moving towards the closet, he took a light duvet along with a pillow and carelessly tossed it onto Ayzal's lap. The bedding landed awkwardly, and Ayzal looked up, confused and hurt. She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice was trapped in her constricted throat. Before she could utter a word, Zayan delivered a crushing blow.

"You may be welcome in this house," Zayan's voice cut through the silence, cold and unforgiving, "but not in my life. The farther you stay from me, the better. Now move and let me sleep." With that, he lay down beside her, engrossed in his phone. Ayzal stood frozen, unable to comprehend the rejection and the hostility in his tone.

"What are you staring at?" Zayan snapped, his words like daggers. "Are you deaf? Go sleep on the couch. I have no desire to share my space with someone who means nothing to me."

Ayzal, trembling, carefully rose to her feet, mindful not to trip over her dress, and retrieved fresh clothing from her luggage near the closet. With trembling hands, she made her way to the restroom, her mind swirling with confusion, hurt, and a deep sense of betrayal.

Inside the restroom, Ayzal confronted her tear-streaked reflection in the mirror, finally allowing herself to succumb to the pain. The image of her distressed face, framed by her disheveled hair, was a reminder of the day’s emotional upheaval. Betrayed by her father's promise that Zayan would bring her happiness, she questioned if this was what happiness looked like. She yearned to return to her former self, the one so deeply in love with Murad, whose memory now felt like a distant dream.

And what of Zayan? Did he not realize she, too, was coerced into this marriage? Did he not understand her struggle to accept him as her husband, especially when her heart still belonged to his brother?

"It would have been better," Ayzal mused, her hand pressed against her chest where palpitations lingered, "if Murad had taken me with him. Not in this life, but at least we could have been together in the afterlife." Her surroundings blurred intermittently, her chest tightening with each painful realization. She steadied herself against the sink, eyes squeezed shut, and drew slow, deep breaths until the turmoil within began to settle.

Once composed, she changed into comfortable clothes and emerged from the restroom into a room cast in shadows, with the moonlight offering the only illumination. The room was enveloped in a silence so profound it almost seemed to have a weight of its own. Quietly, she collected the duvet and pillow from the bed and settled on the couch, keeping a significant distance from Zayan. She arranged the bedding around her with meticulous care, trying to create a semblance of comfort, but sleep eluded her, her mind awash with turbulent thoughts.

It was deep into the night before exhaustion finally overcame her resistance, and she slipped into a fitful sleep, her dreams a chaotic blend of fear, longing, and unresolved emotions. Unaware of what the next morning would bring, Ayzal drifted off, hoping for a brief respite from the storm raging within her.