Eternity

Chapter 11

As-salamu alaikum wa rahmatullah wa barakatuhu

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A month later, Ayzal found herself immersed in the same daily chores she had grown accustomed to, using the routine to keep her mind occupied. She started her day by cooking breakfast for everyone, ensuring each meal was perfect. Then she meticulously cleaned her room, finding a strange comfort in the repetitive motions, and finally, she tackled the laundry.

While sorting through the laundry, she accidentally placed Zayan's white shirt among her colorful clothes. Unaware of the mistake, she continued with her tasks until later, when she retrieved the clothes from the machine and gasped. The once pristine white shirt was now a canvas of mismatched colors. Panic surged through her. Zayan had a crucial meeting the next day, and this shirt was part of his outfit. Ayzal knew too well how quickly Zayan's temper could flare, especially when her actions were the cause.

Desperate, she decided to wash the shirt again, hoping to erase the accidental dye. She used every trick she knew, soaking it in bleach and scrubbing it furiously. The colors faded slightly, but a faint pink hue still clung stubbornly to the fabric. Her heart sank. She knew Zayan would notice.

Determined to fix her mistake, Ayzal decided to buy a new shirt for Zayan without his knowledge. She hurriedly got ready and went downstairs, where her in-laws were gathered. Trying to sound casual, she announced, "I need to meet a friend and will be back in an hour."

Her mother-in-law, Mrs. Qureshi, looked up from her newspaper and said, "Zayan will take you there."

Zayan, who was deeply engrossed in his laptop, glanced up briefly, his eyes meeting Ayzal's. Despite the silence that had grown between them, Ayzal had learned to read Zayan's emotions through his eyes. They had reached a stage where words seemed unnecessary, often replaced by a heavy silence. Their relationship had become strained, their conversations limited to essentials or when family was present. They still slept in the same room, but Ayzal took the couch while Zayan slept on the bed, a silent testament to the distance between them.

"Mother, it is alright. I can go by myself and will be back in no time," Ayzal insisted, hoping to avoid the awkwardness of Zayan's company.

Mrs. Qureshi studied her for a moment before nodding. "Alright, but be careful."

Ayzal nodded gratefully and hurried out of the house. She made her way to a nearby clothing store, her mind racing with anxiety. She found the same brand and style of shirt that Zayan favored and felt a slight sense of relief. Just as she was about to leave, a display of cufflinks caught her eye. She hesitated, her fingers tracing the elegant designs. After a moment of indecision, she purchased a pair, hoping it might ease the tension between them, even if just a little.

Returning home exactly an hour later, Ayzal hoped to slip in unnoticed. Luck, however, was not on her side. As she stepped through the door, the first person she saw was Zayan. Her breath caught in her throat, fear gripping her.

Zayan glanced up, his expression unreadable, then returned to his work without a word. She hurried past him and into their room, her heart pounding. She carefully ironed the new shirt and hung it in his closet, placing the cufflinks next to it.

The day passed slowly and after having dinner, everyone retired to their rooms. The next day, after freshening up Zayan headed straight for his closet.

Ayzal watched anxiously from the couch, her book forgotten in her lap. Zayan paused, noticing the new shirt and the cufflinks. He turned, his eyes meeting hers.

"Where is my shirt?" Zayan's voice was quiet, but the calmness in his tone caught Ayzal off guard.

A flicker of fear passed through Ayzal. "I accidentally washed it with some of my clothes. I am so sorry about the mistake. I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt."

Zayan sighed, his shoulders tensing as anger began to simmer beneath the surface. "How many times have I told you not to touch my things? Are you incapable of understanding? How should I make it clear to you?" His voice grew harsher with each word, anger rising.

"I tried my best to get rid of the sta-" Ayzal began, her voice trembling.

Zayan strode towards her, gripping her arm tightly. "Is it easy for you to apologize without actually fixing anything?" he snarled, his other hand moving to clutch her face tightly. "You will try again. You will try your best to remove the stain by the time I get back home later. I want to see my shirt as new as it was before. Do you understand?"

Tears slipped from Ayzal's eyes as she nodded, her heart pounding with fear and helplessness.

"I need words, Ayzal," Zayan demanded, forcing her to look directly at him.

"Yes, I understand," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Zayan released her with a final glare before turning away and taking the shirt with him, leaving Ayzal standing there, her body trembling. She watched him leave, the door closing with a definitive thud, and sank to the floor, tears flowing freely.

Ayzal wiped her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She knew she had to try again, no matter how hopeless it felt. Gathering the stained shirt, she went back to the laundry room, determined to do whatever it took to make it right.

As she worked, scrubbing the fabric with renewed vigor, she couldn't help but wonder if this effort would ever be enough. The harsh reality of their strained relationship weighed heavily on her heart, but she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing solely on her task.

Hours later, exhausted but resolute, Ayzal hung the shirt to dry. The light pink hue had faded significantly, but a faint trace remained. She knew Zayan would still see it, but she had done everything she could. She laid down at the end of the bed to relieve the body ache she felt from the exhaustion but ended up falling asleep.

When Zayan returned that evening, he immediately went to inspect the shirt after looking at the sleeping figure of his wife.

"It is not the way I wanted it" he said, his tone clipped, as he turned and headed downstairs.