Out Of Wreckage?

Chapter Thirty Nine

I'm back to the same place where I always land up .
On the floor, with tears pouring down my cheeks.

What did I do to deserve this?
I gave my everything to this marriage.
My dignity, my body, my self respect.
But what did I get in return?

That word being repeated thrice.
Divorce! Something that even you my almighty Allah despise.
Then why me?

It wasn't something I hadn't thought of.
For me, it would be a good riddance.

But then why am I not happy?
The answer is very simple.

Bushra.

I don't care about myself but what about my daughter. What should I do now?
I felt numb as I looked at her sleeping figure on the bed. Hopefully, she might have not understood the word but she did understand the trauma he put me through.

As I wiped my tears, I couldn't help but think what got him mad that he did that?

He had been furious at times but had never done something like that.

Suddenly I saw that book on the floor. Bushra's book. He had thrown it on my face before going back to his room.
Bushra loves her father. She made a picture of us. I wanted to make that picture a reality. How will I tell her that I failed?

As I flipped the pages, my eyes widened when I finally saw the drawing my daughter had made.
I didn't see the label yesterday. She might have written before Aslam actually saw it.
I sighed as I picked the book up.

Things started playing in my head and everything became clear.

What a fool I was!
I wasted so much of our time to just assemble the broken pieces of our lives but not anymore.

I know what I have to do now and
I'm not going to let him get away this time.
I just have to wait for the sun to rise. This would be a new beginning.
For both of us.

Although the night seemed longer than usual but good things definitely take time.

Meanwhile I had done everything what I was supposed to do.

Before the sun came up, I prayed to my almighty. Without him, nothing was possible.
I prayed for my daughter and her bright future.

I felt her tiny hands as she hugged me after I was done. She smiled at me.
I pecked her forehead.
It's all I ever wished for.
I had everything ready before storming out.

Surprisingly he was up, calmly reading the newspaper on the recliner. I had worn a niqab to hide my face.

I held Bushra's hand and squeezed it lightly.
She was my courage.
She passed me an encouraging smile.

As I dragged the suitcases, he looked up.

"Running off to your lover." His comment made my steps halt.

"I don't think I'm answerable to you after yesterday." I retorted.

His nose flared as he crumpled the newspaper in his hand, "I don't know what you are talking about. I'm your husband and you're answerable to me. So don't you dare back answer me ever again. Understood?" He had the audacity to deny it on my face.

"You're not my husband. You divorced me, yesterday, remember?"

He exhaled loudly.

"And what proof do you have? I have not signed any papers and there are no witnesses."

"But I have this." I picked up the file that I had hid in my cupboard for years.
It was only today that I signed it.

"These are the khula papers that I signed in the morning. I don't wish to reconcile with you or stay with you. I don't want anything from you except my daughter." I announced.