Seeking Her Forgiveness

7.A night of passion

Around the lunch table, everyone had settled in. Shabnam fretted over Azlan's meager portions, heaping his plate with a motherly insistence. Each protest from Azlan was met with a gentle, "Nonsense, you need your strength!" Muiz, perched beside them, couldn't contain his giggles, delighting in his uncle's predicament. Unlike Azlan, Muiz readily accepted every offering, happily receiving morsels straight from Shabana's hand. 

Azlan, resigned, knew a double workout session loomed in his future to combat the impending calorie surge. As they ate, Shabnam regaled him with stories of Shabana's mischievous childhood, her voice warm with affection.

Suddenly, Muiz, who had barely scratched the surface of his plate, declared himself full. Shabana, however, wasn't having it. "At least half, Muiz," she insisted. But Muiz, a whirlwind of energy, was already out of his seat, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

With a playful shout, he darted across the courtyard. Shabana, unfazed, rose with a determined smile, plate in hand. A chase ensued, laughter echoing through the air. Shabana, surprisingly agile for her age, weaved through the courtyard, weaving fantastical tales as she tried to coax bites of food into Muiz's mouth. 

 Azlan and Shabnam watched. Shabnam smiled whereas, a bittersweet ache settling in his chest. The scene unfolded like a story woven with love and laughter, a picture of a mother and son utterly in sync.

A pang of longing twisted within him. There had been a time when he'd dreamt of this – a complete family. Where he imagined himself as father, Shahana as a mother and their beautiful children running around them , lighting up their world.  But here, bathed in the golden light, the image felt like a cruel mirage. The truth was stark – the picture was perfect, yet incomplete. It was a happiness forever out of his reach, a belonging he could never truly possess.

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Fate had once again brought Azlan and Shahana together, confining them to the same bedroom. Shahana, however, was far from pleased with this arrangement, her heart yearning for distance. Azlan, oblivious to her turmoil, had reluctantly agreed to stay.

As Azlan found himself alone in Shahana's bedroom, a room he had never visited before, he couldn't help but notice the meticulous care with which it was maintained. The décor exuded a sense of feminine grace .

Leaning against the bed, his mind drifted back to Shabnam's words. Could Shahana truly be pregnant? And if so, when had the miscarriage occurred? Why had she kept this from him?

A wave of confusion and anguish washed over him, his head throbbing with an intensity that mirrored the turmoil within. In a desperate attempt to seek clarity, he reached for his phone, typing a message to his secretary and sending it off with a sigh.

Just then, Shahana stepped into the room. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment before she swiftly averted her gaze, her expression unreadable. She retrieved the item she had come for and turned to leave.

"Could I get a cup of tea?" Azlan's voice broke the silence, his request laced with a hint of vulnerability. Shahana turned, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. She noticed the lines of worry etched on his forehead, a sure sign of his discomfort.

Her heart ached for him, the truth undeniable. She knew Azlan was prone to fevers after being caught in the rain, and the fever always began with a pounding headache.

"I'll get it," she muttered, her voice barely a whisper, and hurried out of the room.

Moments later, a young boy, no older than twelve or thirteen, entered the room carrying a tray. A steaming cup of tea, accompanied by pain relievers and a glass of water, sat neatly arranged upon it.