fated hearts

chapter 18

Asiya was frozen, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She couldn’t believe that Ibrahim had called her sister instead of eloping with her as she had begged. It felt like a betrayal, a stark reminder of the hopelessness of their situation. She returned home, her spirit crushed, feeling like a part of her had died.

The month dragged on, and despite her desperate attempts to change her fate, Asiya was married off to Muhsin Qaraye. She was a ghost of herself, moving through the rituals and ceremonies in a daze. Her heart was with Ibrahim, but her body was now bound to another man.

Meanwhile, Ibrahim's condition worsened. His mother, unable to watch her son suffer any longer, made the difficult decision to contact his father, Alhaji Na Allah. Ibrahim had always been kept away from his father due to past conflicts, but now his mother hoped that reuniting with his father might help.

Alhaji Na Allah was overjoyed to learn that he had a son, yet heartbroken to see him in such a dire state. He immediately took Ibrahim abroad, hoping that a change of environment and professional help might aid his recovery. He arranged for Ibrahim to see a therapist, someone who could help him navigate the storm of emotions and trauma he was experiencing.

Ibrahim’s mother, while grateful for Alhaji Na Allah’s efforts, remained distant. The scars of their past were still too fresh, and she couldn’t bring herself to forgive him. Her sole focus was on Ibrahim’s recovery. She spent her days by his side, offering him all the love and support she could.

Despite the therapy sessions and the change of environment, Ibrahim remained lost in his pain. The memories of Asiya haunted him, and the knowledge that she was now married to someone else was a constant source of torment. He often found himself staring out of the window, lost in thoughts of what could have been.

One evening, as the sun set over the foreign city, Ibrahim sat with his therapist. The room was filled with a heavy silence, the only sound the ticking of a clock on the wall.

“How are you feeling today, Ibrahim?” the therapist asked gently.

Ibrahim sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Empty,” he said after a long pause. “Everything feels...empty.”

The therapist nodded, understanding. “It’s going to take time, Ibrahim. Healing is a slow process. But you’re not alone in this. Your father, your mother—they’re all here for you.”

Ibrahim’s eyes welled up with tears. “But Asiya isn’t,” he whispered. “She’s all I think about. She’s the only one who ever made me feel whole.”

The therapist leaned forward, her voice soft and compassionate. “I know it hurts. But you need to focus on yourself now. On healing. It’s what Asiya would want for you.”

As Ibrahim’s sessions continued, he began to slowly open up about his feelings. The pain of losing Asiya, the guilt he felt for not eloping with her, of it came pouring out. Each session was a step towards healing, though the road was long and fraught with challenges.

Alhaji Na Allah, meanwhile, was doing everything he could to support his son. He tried to reconnect with Ibrahim’s mother, hoping to mend the rift between them. But she was still wary, her trust broken too many times in the past.

“I’m just focused on Ibrahim right now,” she told him one day, her voice steady but distant. “I can’t think about us.”

Alhaji Na Allah nodded, understanding her reluctance. “I just want what’s best for him. For both of you.”

Days turned into weeks, and slowly, very slowly, Ibrahim began to show signs of improvement. The therapy sessions helped him process his emotions, and the distance from the chaos back home gave him a chance to breathe.