Mrs Ahmed Shehu

24 (Part II)

AHMED

The last time I was hurting this much, Asma and I were divorcing. Maybe my memory's faulty but I can swear that this hurts worse than it did back then. I don't know how to fix it. I don't know where to start from.

The worst part? I have to act like everything's alright for the sake of the kids who are so happy to have me back. "Suraiya's not feeling too well." I tell them, and they buy it. It should make me feel better but it makes everything worse.

Suraiya avoids me like the plague. Each time I try to talk to her, she slips away and further breaks whatever's left of me. We go from being comfortable in each other's presence to not even being able to get two words in. I hate it. I hate all of it.

I hate her family for not trusting her and for forcing their terms on her. I hate that this is what has become of us. I hate that I'm so lost and confused. I hate it so much that I don't know what to do.

Sunday turns into Monday and then into Tuesday. We don't see ourselves and no matter how much I beg, she doesn't come out of her room once she's in it. More times than I can count, I get tempted to break the door down so she won't have any other option than to talk to me. But I know better. A confrontation won't help and if she doesn't want to speak to me on her own free will, there's no way she'll speak to me if she's cornered.

There are moments when I almost get her but the expression on her face and her tears kill me slowly so I have no choice but to let her go. I never thought the day would come when I wouldn't want the kids to be around but just look at us now. I make the decision to send them to Swansea and when I finally get to talk to Amal, the chaperoning issue is settled.

On a normal day, I'd be glad the ladies are deciding to go and see Asma but this is not a normal period for me and I just want them – and the kids – gone. I need to fix what's going on between Suraiya and I, and until they leave for Swansea, I have to find a way to get her to stay a little longer.

It's easier said than done though and it's very painful.

Tuesday becomes Wednesday and I spend a lot of money hastening the kids' travel documents and visas. Amal said the tickets they got are for August 1st so I get the kids tickets on that same day too. It's farther than I'd like but it'll have to do. If I had my way, they'd be on a plane right now but I'm not that irresponsible.

On Thursday morning, I sit in the living room after Fajr, determined to wait for Suraiya to come out of her room. I still don't know what I want to tell her and I still don't know what I want to do but I just need to see her.

I've not slept much in these past days and I've thought about every moment that has passed since she arrived back in May last year. I've replayed everything and I've tried to sort out my emotions but it's so hard. It isn't supposed to be this hard but it is. It really is.

I can pinpoint when our relationship changed. I can pinpoint when we started talking more, when we started laughing more, when she became really important to me, when I started looking out for her, when I began missing her and when I started wanting more of whatever she had to give. The memories are too clear and I should have a clear idea of what's going on but my emotions are jumbled. My thought process is much worse.

Her door opens much, much later and it gets me on alert. I stand as the door shuts and then I hear her softly approach. The sight of her breaks my heart. She looks so exhausted and so sad. She doesn't know I'm here as she types away on her phone, heading in the direction of the kitchen. I wait until she comes back out with a bottle of water.

"Suraiya."

She freezes and once again my heart breaks. I take small steps forward. "Suraiya." I need her to look at me. "Suraiya, look at me. Please."