Fariya Shafiq's life seems to have become a series of unfortunate events after a life riveting accident that took everything from her, leaving her painted with scars, quite literally.
She struggles to find herself everyday, to find even a trace of h...
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Shehryar found himself mumbling to be left alone as a hand shook his shoulder, and when a finger tapped his forehead, then when his nose was pinched between two fingers, his eyes shot open.
Fariya covered her mouth with her hand, stifling the giggle that begged to be let out at Shehryar's wide eyes.
He rubbed his eyes and sat up, pulling the hem of his t-shirt down when he felt it riding up. "Kyakarrahi ho?"
*"What are you doing?"
She smiled, sitting down beside him on the bed. He watched her with a smile of his own, filled with admiration for his wife. "Utharahihunaapko. Fajrka time ho gaya hai."
*"Waking you up. It's Fajr time."
That's what she did every morning of the week they'd been married. Shehryar wasn't going to lie and say he was very religious but she never failed to make his heart swell with love for her every morning when she woke him up.
He swung his legs off the bed and got up with a grunt. As he went into the washroom for his ablution, she brought out a long white scarf and wrapped it around her face, covering her hair up and letting it hang down her chest. She set up their prayer mats, too— his in the front and hers a little behind before she sat down on the bed, waiting for him to come out so they could pray together.
Not only had she made it a habit to wake him up for Fajr every morning, but she also made sure they would pray together whenever they got the chance. It was just another motivation for her to stay standing for a while.
Shehryar joined her soon, taken in awe at the sight of her just sitting there, wrapped in white silk. He helped her up, though she didn't need it anymore, and guided her onto her prayer mat— rose gold in color, before stepping onto his own— a cinnamon color.
They sat there on the mats once they'd been done with their namaz, hands raised for dua, each of them including each other in their wishes.
Fariya untied the scarf from around her face, folded it, and set it down over her prayer mat before joining Shehryar, who sat on the floor over the rug they'd gotten two days ago to make the space feel homier. He was quick to put her arm around her as she tucked herself against his side, her scarred hand resting over his heart and feeling it beating under his chest.
For some reason unknown to her, she loved feeling his heartbeat.
And each time she did, he was compelled to tell her that it beat for her.
He kissed the top of her head and her eyes fluttered close with a hum. "I got something for you." He whispered, not wanting to disrupt the peace and quiet of the house.
She didn't lift her head from his shoulder as she answered him. "You get too many things for me, Shehryar. Stop spending so much money on me."
"Speaking of money, I'm going to be occupied with work for the next few days. And I'll be leaving early in the morning to get things done quicker. Maybe after Fajr."
