Alayna was elated. Her eyes were, after a week of being shrouded in deep tears ; so dark heavy and dreary, she had found happiness. Her husband was back in the well of her arms, his soft kisses that were what woke her up in the morning, his smooth words that toasted her just as well as he toasted bread, his food that he prepared and force fed her — even when she was sat in the hospital chair expecting the worst. Every now and then, he would pop in and out of her office too, bringing the oh so beloved lambay donuts — anything to keep her mind off of her decaying father.
An efficient routine had formed amongst them in silence, from work to hospital, to work and back home. In between were stolen moments that they captured from the terrifying grip of society. It had kept them well apart, the topic of who her mother was lingered around like an open sore, it's ache opening memories that like unfiltered bacteria destroyed the life. It was pure torture, keeping Emir to herself, or to send him back to Italy where his heart was. Where his parents lived. Where the name of his family was like the glowing sun — everlasting.
"You should go back to Italy. Your parents await you."
Alayna only knew the punch to her gut as she spoke those words. Confined in the car, moving on the highway with speed building up at an insane speed. Emir looked at her for a second, his gaze back on the meadows beside the road, cattle and livestock free to live and breath as they wished. The heater made soft whizzing sounds and it's warm air was the perfect excuse to explain the dusky red building up on her cheek. Her eyes, trained on her lap, fiddling with the rings in her fingers. Would her heart survive losing the only two members of her family at the same time?
"I don't think I should leave you alone right now Alayna."
He sighed, his brows bunched over the gap between his eyes. Trapped in the space, struggling to breathe as he thought of the havoc he had just wreaked. The blue skies that spoke of hope, the soft white clouds like inanimate decor — perfect to be discarded at any given moment reminded him of his own-self. He was the perfect accessory in the well built lives, he wanted for once to follow his heart — not the duties that bound him.
"Emir?"
She waved her hand in front of his eyes. Lost in a world of his own, he looked troubled — she hoped the contorted muscles were indication of that. Or else it would be a huge embarrassment.
"Where are you lost? Is everything alright? You seem a bit troubled."
Way to go miss obvious — her mind rolled it's metaphorical eyes at her. Alayna ignored the logical part of her, sliding her hand over his thigh she squeezed it in reassurance. With a humble smile, Emir kissed the back of her soft palm. Glad that he was not driving. He held them to his eyes, the soft vanilla bean scent of her hand lotion calmed his anxious heart, how he wished things could always remain so simple. Just the two of them — and nothing in between.
"I don't want to go back to Italy. Please — don't ask me to leave," he whimpered.
Alayna was flabbergasted. In the weeks she had known him, never had she seen him so lost. Gone was the bright spark inside his eyes. The scrambled expression of his face, the deep dark circles, messy hair — how had she imagined things were alright? In the flossy fairytale of her pastel life, at the hands of her still henna reeking palms, she had stroked the neck of his story — forcing them all into a large box, she had been selfish. For once, Alayna thought of the consequences. For once, she wished she could change the outcomes.
