شرر Sharar

Eighty-Four

Ayla lay in her dimly lit bedroom, her mind getting lost in the lane of past, as she gazed at the ceiling.

She was remembering the day when they got married, how her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Kaif's warm smile. Their whirlwind romance had been a tempest of passion and laughter, but soon the winds shifted, carrying them into the storm of disagreements and misunderstandings. Ayla's heart ached as she relived the heated arguments and tearful nights they had spent together.

But it wasn't just the disagreements that haunted her thoughts. It was the moments of tenderness too—the stolen glances, the shared secrets, and the deep, unspoken bond that they once shared. She remembered the times when Kaif had held her close after an argument, whispering promises of love and forever.

Then came that fateful night when he accused her, and she had demanded a divorce, her voice quivering with a mix of anger, frustration, and desperation for peace. She had believed that separating from Kaif was the only way to save her peace.

Ayla's heart ached as she recalled the day when she found the separation papers which was singed by him. He wasn't at home, he left, without meeting her or their daughter, leaving their once-shared dreams broken again.

She believed that time would heal her wounds, the distance would free them from the tumultuous love that had bound them.

Everyone gave her time to get over this, everyone was supporting, even Rukhsar. But as time passed on, Ayla found herself trapped in regrets and fear. She didn't sign those papers, she couldn't send them back. Doubt had build in her, like a constant companion, reminding her of the love that still lingered in her heart.

Her phone beeped, which brought her back from the past. Drying her eyes, she picked her phone, thinking it must be an emergency from hospital, but Kaif's name flashes on the screen, he has sent a message.

Are you awake?

Ayla didn't reply and put the phone down. Her heart raced with a new kind of fear—the fear of confronting Kaif again. The fear of seeing the disappointment in his eyes, of acknowledging the pain they had both endured, and of admitting her own vulnerability.

Her phone again beeped.

I know you aren't sleeping. This was his message.

How does he know? Ayla wondered as she holds the phone in her hands, then her head snapped toward the window. As she recalled how before their rukhsati, when she got angry at him, he came to meet her through the window. But there was no one on the window, the blow of winds softly brushes against the curtains.

Can we talk? I am on terrace. He again message her.

Taking a deep breath out, Ayla put the phone away and got down from the bed. Now or later, she have to face him, she have to answer him. She just didn't want to do it now, but nothing ever works in her favour. She always have to face the things which scares her the most.

•••

Kaif leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the starry sky. The distant city lights painted a serene backdrop, contrasting with the storm of emotions brewing in him.

He heard a soft steps, he turned, his heart skipped a beat when Ayla entered there, her figure outlined by the soft glow of the moon.

"Ayla," his voice was a hesitant whisper, carrying the weight of unspoken words. Ayla met his gaze,

The silence lingered between them, a reminder of the years that had slipped away.

With slow and hesitant steps, Ayla went to stood beside him.