Under That Niqab

31. Sceptical

3rd person's pov:

I miss you mom,

Every single day
You, your voice, your laugh
The way you stayed up late night
waiting for me to come back from work
Even though you knew
it was bad for your health,
You did it for my sake

I didn't deserve someone like you,
someone so pure so ethereal selfless.

I miss lying on your lap,
your scent engulfing my senses
your hand stroking my hair

Ever so gently

I miss it all
my heart aches
for having you by me
one last time.
you holding me
one last time
I tell you
that I love you
one last time.

Shavez crumbled the inked paper and formed a messy ball of it. A single tear escaping his left eye, falling on his cheek, he immediately wiped it with the back of his hand whilst sitting up.

He was seated on a sofa by the hearth a blanket over his shoulders, the place radiating warmth, yet he felt utterly cold.

Lunging forward he threw the paper into the fire, for it to immediately burn into ashes. He looked through it, how the glowing embers of the paper floated above the fire to vanish into oblivion. He wished they reached his mother.

He knew he was being childish for doing so, but he couldn't help it when the emotions were so heightened, the distress on its peak. He wrote it all down, always does, only for it to end up in ashes every single time.

The only person he had in his life was no longer beside him. And there was nothing he could do about it.

He couldn't even blame anyone for it, for his mother's death was so peaceful as if she just slept for never waking up again.

But he blamed, he blamed himself for not taking care of her properly, not giving her enough time from his schedule. Whatever he did,his mother was not coming back.

He sighed laying back down, head resting on the hand rest of the sofa. How he pictured his life to be, the house full of laughter and happy voices but it was all silence and sad tears.

He recalled the day, the day..

She looked so happy that day, he looked so wrecked the same day.

She, Haya.

The way his mother was so worried about his despicable state. She kept on asking questions and he kept on crying. Couldn't answer them. What was there to say anyways.

She understood that, and just provided comfort with her words, her delicate, soft, soothing, words full of love were the only thing which brought him back to life.

He then told her everything, the way he loved a girl so dearly who was now married, married to his...

Married to Adnan.

It was funny really how he didn't see her but chose to give his heart to her.

But his mother didn't think it was funny in any way, she asked him,
Was it nonsensical to adore the moon from behind a cloud?
And was it irrational to love an unborn child?
Was it strange to be enthusiastic about an unread book?

Certainly not.

She told him that it was the purest thing she ever thought her son was capable of doing. It was then she told him to marry only if could love someone the same way he had loved Haya.