Mehrem- The Confidant

18

Illiyeen

It had been three weeks since we returned from Karachi. I found myself looking forward to the small routines Umair and I had begun to establish, even if they were often interrupted by his demanding work schedule or the ton of dinners and brunches we attended. The empty moments when he was away made me realize how quickly I had grown used to his presence.

I sat on the couch in our living room, the soft hum of the ceiling fan above filling the silence while my eyes occasionally wandered toward the door. My phone buzzed, and I reached for it, hoping it was him. Instead, it was a message from Mawaa.

Mawaa: How's it going, Mrs. Ansari? 😏

I smiled at the teasing tone. She had been supportive since my wedding, constantly checking in and ensuring I didn't feel overwhelmed.

Me: It's alright, just missing him. He's still at the hospital.

Mawaa: Aww, you've got it wrong. 🙈 Don't worry; the distance will make the moments you're together even better. Trust me.

I knew she was right, but it didn't make the waiting easier. The front door clicked, and I glanced up, my heart beating.

There he was—Umair, looking exhausted but managing a smile as soon as our eyes met. I put my phone aside, getting up to greet him.

"Hey," I said softly, walking up to him. He placed his bag on the floor and opened his arms, pulling me in for a hug. I wrapped my arms around his waist, and he sighed deeply, his chin resting on my head.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice a little rough from fatigue. "Long day."

"I can tell." I pulled back slightly, studying his face. He looked worn out, and the dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than usual. "Have you eaten anything?"

He shook his head. "I'll just grab something quick. Don't worry."

"No way," I protested, taking his hand. "You need real food. Come on, I made dinner."

His eyebrows lifted, surprise flickering in his eyes. "You cooked?"

"Don't sound so shocked," I teased, tugging him toward the dining area. "It's nothing fancy, but it's better than you skipping dinner."

He chuckled, following me without protest. As we sat down, I watched as he took his first bite, his eyes closing briefly in satisfaction.

"This is good," he said, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. It was small, but moments like these made everything worth it.

We mostly ate in silence, exchanging a few words here and there. I could tell he was tired and didn't want to push him. After dinner, we cleaned up together, and our movements were natural and almost synchronized. When we finally settled back on the couch, Umair took a long breath, leaning back and closing his eyes.

"You should rest," I said, shifting closer, my hand brushing against his. He turned his head to look at me, his gaze softening.

"I will," he murmured. "But I like this. Being here with you. It makes everything else feel... manageable."

My heart swelled at his words, and I rested my head on his shoulder. "I like it too," I whispered.

We sat like that for a while, the quiet between us comforting. The weight of the past two weeks seemed to lift, replaced by a sense of peace. It wasn't perfect, and there were still so many things we had yet to figure out, but in that moment, none mattered.

"Thank you, Illiyeen," Umair said suddenly, his voice low.

"For what?" I asked, tilting my head up to look at him.