Under That Niqab

69. Yours

Heaven, I'm in Heaven, and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
And I seem to find the happiness I seek

°°°°

He appeared to be an ocean, with a surface so calm, serene, and composed, rippling gently like still waters. Yet, deep within him, she sensed the vastness of untamed emotions, lurking like powerful currents, waiting to surge and collide. His demeanor might have seemed tranquil, but she was acutely aware of the tempests that could be unleashed at any moment.

But can you blame her really?

"Do you need any other proof that I genuinely mean no harm to you or our child?"

No, I don't, I need no proof. I'm sorry for running away. I'm sorry.

Her throat was constricted, a fist forming in it not letting her utter a word. The fist of guilt.

"I'm taking him home," He said, and what broke her heart was that he turned away and left laying one glance on Sharfu who was standing with his head bowed down and two tickets in his hand.

He didn't spare a second glance at her, didn't tell her to come back home with him, didn't ask why did she choose to run away instead of confronting him and telling him.

But she had a hunch, he wants her to go with her, she just knew. Right now he was mad at her for leaving him, and he should be. Because what she did was not forgivable but, but...what he did? Was it forgivable?

She ran after him, not caring if that would be a stain on her self-respect.

After all, what was Haya Abbas without her Shavez Haider?

So she didn't care, she didn't care as long as Shavez was the one she had to chase after, because he was always in her reach, she knew.

The car ride was silent, he didn't utter a word, nor did she because her mind had short-circuited at how calm her child looked in his arms, he had fallen asleep yet again on his chest, and it looked as if he belongs there. Not with Haya but with Shavez.

The weight of guilt was so heavy, she couldn't look into his eyes, couldn't look at his face when she desperately wanted to. To depict what was running through his mind, what was he thinking?

She had never seen him lose control over anything, was this finally it? Did she bring out the worst in him? She couldn't help but feel guilty for what she had done and what she might have done.

As the car stopped in front of the porch he cradled the boy and stepped out, while Sharfu who was driving held the door for him.

He didn't hold the door for her this time, he just walked away, into the house and once again she was left heartbroken, but followed him anyway, he went upstairs towards the room beside the study, where she had never laid her foot in. Because she presumed it was Shavez's room and she wasn't allowed, she didn't want to invade his privacy.

She waited outside for him whilst removing her Abaya and draping it on her arm, it was about five minutes after which Shavez came out of the room gently closing the door behind him without a sound.

The silence around them was so thick, heavy, and cunning. The air was almost non-inhaling. This has never happened before, between them there was never a heavy silence, it was always a comfortable one.

His condition had worsened, his face more pale and creases on his forehead more prominent, and the way he massaged his neck while stepping down the stairs she could tell that his body was aching too.

She followed him this time too, expecting him to say anything, be mad at her, scold her..just anything because she deserved it. But he didn't. He just plopped himself on the sofa and lead his head back, closing his eyes soon after, sweat beads appearing on his forehead as he relaxed those creases.