Burn the truth (ENG)

| 53 |

A cold breeze flew through the air and hit my face. A shiver followed.

With my hands against the strap of my shoulder bag, I followed Imran towards 'our' house.

Not much had changed on the outside.

Only the wooden double sofa to the left of the door had been moved to the other side of the door. Flowers had bloomed on the side of the aisle and the grass had been cut.

Imran opened the door with his keys and luged my suitcase inside.

His eyes slid my way when I didn't enter the house. "Come in."

Inhale and exhale.

I gathered all my confidence and nodded.

An unpleasant feeling went through me as I stepped into the house. Memories flew by and I felt my heart break little by little.

Stop.

Focus.

I breathed in and out one more time before continuing on my way.

As my eyes surveyed the space, I walked into the living room. I ran my finger along the coffee table and a thick layer of dust settled on my finger.

The house had not been cleaned for months. It just seemed uninhabited.

A trembling sound made me jump from the table.

What was that?

A flash of light suddenly appeared from the benches and I took my steps in that direction.

Seeing a phone on the couch, I let out a sigh.

When I wanted to walk away again, the phone suddenly started to vibrate irregularly and the image jumped.

Frowning, I picked up the phone and looked at the screen. Manar.

A stab went through my heart, but I quickly suppressed the feeling.

Focus, Zara. Focus.

"Zara."

I lowered my hand with the phone and turned around in shock. "Y-yes."

He ran his hand through his tousled hair. "I just came to say that I took the suitcase to the guest bedroom."

I pressed my lips together and nodded. That's when the phone started vibrating in my hand again.

Imran's eyes immediately followed the sound and he frowned at the sight of his possession in my hand. "Is that my phone?"

"Uh, yeah." I reached out his phone awkwardly. "Someone is trying to contact you."

He raised an eyebrow and took his phone from me. His eyes rolled across his screen and realization hit him at the sight of the name. "Zara-"

I avoided his eyes and glanced at the clock in the living room. "It's getting late." I pulled my bag from my shoulder and held it in my hands. "Good night."

Without waiting for his response, I walked towards the bedroom where I would be staying for the foreseeable future.

"Sleep well," I heard him mumble before I climbed the stairs.

~

I was tossing and turning all night, waiting to fall asleep. All I could think about was the relationship between Imran and Manar.

Are they still in contact with each other? Does she live here too - in this house? Are they still married?

I swore mentally.

Of course they are still married.

So instead of worrying, I rolled out of bed and trudged up the stairs to the kitchen.

The moment I saw light shining from the living room, I slowed my steps.

The remaining distance, I tipped my toes.

Arriving at the living room, my heart constricted at the sight of his peaceful face as he slept on the couch.

My eyes rolled to the TV.

A football game was on TV when the interviewer was describing the actions of the players.

I fished the remote control from the couch and clicked off the TV.

I looked at Imran for a moment, amazed at how tense he looked in his sleep.

The burdens of the past few months apparently affected both of us and not just me.

The disheveled brown hair was thrown over his forehead and the constant in and out breaths echoed through the living room.

His arms were folded across his chest and I soon felt the urge to curl up between his arms and take in the warmth.

He was still so strong, no doubt because of his long hours in the gym. One of his ways to get rid of stress.

Stop.

Focus, Zara.

I shook my head from the thoughts.

Smiling weakly, I turned to the kitchen and prepared myself a glass of hot chocolate before walking back to my room.

But then I saw them.

It was silver paper peeking out of the side pocket of his coat and while part of me cringed at the idea that they were divorce papers, another part of me was positive that it was my imagination.

Until I pulled them out.

My jaw dropped open. Literally.

Slowly, I sank onto a step of the stairs. I left the mug on the step above me as I began to study the letter thoroughly.

Again and again.

I let go of my breath as I frowned in confusion.

Imran and Manar are getting divorced? Why?

Feelings ran wild and thoughts started to go in all directions as I wanted to find out the answer to my question.

For a moment I felt sorry for myself. I wasn't allowed to go through this. I should be thinking about our baby with my husband. Have to make up names. Not spending my time thinking about whether my baby's father was still married or not.

Before Imran came into my life, I might not have been happy, but I was fine in my own bubble. Now he is part of my life.

I'm carrying his child, damn it.

No.

Stop.

Focus.

I refused to do this to myself.

I stood up abruptly, forgetting my hot chocolate on the step above and my eyes fixed.

I was here for my kids.

It doesn't matter whether Imran and Manar get divorced or not.

My kids were my priority and that won't change.