Accepting You

Chapter Thirty Seven

Once it was 6:00 pm, Yusuf left work, picked up a large bouquet of white roses and rushed home.

He had a strong sense of determination, but his confidence was fragile, and his unsteady equation of feelings made him feel nervous about initiating a conversation with his wife. But he had to do it.

Yusuf didn't fully believe he could, but he had to try.

He and Asiya were dangerously close to inheriting his family's dynamic. 

They had fallen into a bad habit of never finishing their discussions. 

It felt like they had been wading through mud for the last month. Their unsaid words and unresolved feelings were piling like forgotten dishes in a sink, and they threatened to spill over and crash onto the floor.

Yusuf also hated seeing Asiya unhappy and that watery look that lined the rims of her eyes.

He wasn't sure he had the tools to break the pattern that had passed down multiple generations of his family, but he was sure Asiya did. She was better than him with things like this. 

Yusuf was sure that if he started their conversation, lit the fuse and sprinkled some breadcrumbs, Asiya would join him on the trail. She had to.

"Asalamu alaykum." 

A feeling of déjà vu settled into Yusuf as his eyes inspected the dark flat from the entryway. But a slither of hope was inside him, and Yusuf decided to grasp it. He kicked off his shoes and pushed open the bedroom door.

Asiya isn't here.

The roses dropped from between Yusuf's grip as he brought out his phone and skimmed through his messages.

Asiya hadn't sent him anything. His phone had been on loud throughout the entire day. There were no unread texts, unanswered phone calls or unopened voicemails logged on his phone. 

There was no packaged meal in the oven or microwave. The unkept dishes were in the same position they had been left in from the morning.

Asiya's work tote wasn't hanging behind the door.

There was no sign that Asiya had come home.

"Don't panic, Yusuf. It's still early," he said to himself.

Asiya could've gone over to Olivia's, but she would've told him. She always told him where she was going, at least.

The last few weeks had been far from enjoyable. 

Has Asiya left? 

No. Asiya wouldn't leave. 

The place was hers. Her wardrobe was still overstuffed with scarves and dresses, and her makeup products were cluttered on the desk. If she had left, she would've taken something.

Yusuf felt his lungs wheeze to a stop.

London was big, too big. The city was home to an endless number of streets. Some were packed, others were forgotten, some streets were hidden behind parks and shops or tucked between semi-detached homes, and some were only visited by isolated footsteps at night.

Where would he even start looking if Asiya didn't come home tonight?

Yusuf slapped the side of his head as though the action would defeat the panic that had stolen space in his mind.

I can't think like that, he said inwardly. Those thoughts were nonsense. Manufactured by his anxiety.

It was just approaching 7:00 pm. Asiya wasn't home yet, but it was still early enough for her to be on her way.