Eternity

Chapter 32

As-salamu alaikum wa rahmatullah wa barakatuhu

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Ayzal stood in the kitchen, her fingers trembling slightly as she held the edge of the countertop for support. She had come here intending to confront Zayan, to force him to acknowledge what had happened the night before, but now, looking at his back as he quietly made his coffee, her resolve began to waver. The morning sunlight filtered through the window, casting a soft glow on the room, but the warmth did nothing to ease the coldness that had settled in her chest.

She cleared her throat, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness. Zayan didn’t turn around, but she could see the slight stiffening of his shoulders, a telltale sign that he was aware of her presence. Taking a deep breath, she finally spoke, her voice quiet but steady. “Thank you… for last night. I—I know you took care of me.”

Zayan paused, his hand hovering over the coffee pot. For a moment, he considered pretending he hadn’t heard her, letting her words drift away like so many others before. But something in her tone compelled him to respond, even if only briefly. “It was nothing,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of any warmth or acknowledgment of the care he had shown.

Ayzal’s heart sank at his indifferent response, but she pressed on, unwilling to let it go so easily. “It wasn’t nothing, Zayan. You didn’t have to stay with me, but you did. Why? Why do you do things like this—things that show you care—only to push me away again?”

Zayan’s grip tightened around the handle of his coffee cup. He finally turned to face her, his expression carefully guarded, his eyes hard. “I told you not to read too much into it. Anyone would have done the same. Don’t mistake basic decency for something it is not.”

“Basic decency?” Ayzal repeated, her voice trembling with a mix of frustration and pain. “You call staying up all night to watch over me basic decency? Zayan, this isn’t just about last night. It is about all the times you have shown that you care, even if you won’t admit it. Why can’t you just be honest?”

Zayan’s jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin. “There is nothing to be honest about. What you are looking for isn’t there, Ayzal. Stop trying to find something that doesn’t exist.”

Ayzal felt a sharp sting at his words, but she refused to back down. “Then why did you marry me, Zayan? If I mean so little to you, why do you still act like you care?”

He stared at her, the question hitting him harder than he expected. For a moment, he struggled to find an answer, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. The truth was, he didn’t know how to respond. He had married her for reasons that had nothing to do with love, but those reasons felt hollow now, empty excuses for the deeper turmoil he refused to confront. “It was a mistake,” he finally said, his voice cold and detached. “This marriage—it was all a mistake. We are too broken to fix what is between us.”

Ayzal felt the breath leave her lungs as if he had physically struck her. His words hung in the air, heavy and final, and she realized that there was nothing left to say. No matter how much she pleaded or reasoned, Zayan had made up his mind. The hope she had clung to, the fragile belief that things might change, crumbled in that moment. She wanted to scream, to cry, to demand that he see her, really see her, but she knew it would be futile. He was too locked in his own pain, his own guilt, to ever let her in.

With a bitter smile, she nodded, accepting the truth of his words. “You are right, Zayan. It was a mistake.” Her voice was surprisingly calm, though it trembled slightly at the edges. “But not in the way you think. The mistake wasn’t our marriage. The mistake was believing that you could ever let me in. That I could somehow reach you when you have done everything to push me away.”

Zayan said nothing, his face an unreadable mask. He couldn’t deny what she was saying, because deep down, he knew it was true. He had kept her at a distance, convinced that it was the only way to protect himself from the pain of their past, from the scars that ran too deep to heal.

Ayzal took a deep breath, her decision solidifying in her mind. “I am done trying, Zayan. If this is what you want—this distance, this coldness—then I will give it to you. I won’t ask for anything more. I won’t fight anymore. I will give you exactly what you seem to want—nothing.”

There was a finality in her words that sent a chill through him, but he forced himself to remain stoic. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? For her to stop pushing, stop trying to break through the barriers he had so carefully constructed? And yet, as he watched her turn and walk away, something inside him twisted painfully, a knot of regret and fear tightening in his chest.

As Ayzal left the kitchen, she felt a strange sense of calm wash over her. She had made her decision, and for the first time in a long while, she felt a sense of control, however small. If Zayan wanted to live in his self-imposed prison, she would no longer try to drag him out of it. She would build her own walls, protect her own heart, and give him the silence he seemed to crave.

For the next few days, Ayzal carried out her decision with unwavering resolve. She moved through the house like a ghost, her presence barely noticeable as she went about her routines in silence. When Zayan came into a room, she would quietly leave, avoiding any unnecessary interaction. She had withdrawn completely, retreating into a shell that even Zayan’s cold indifference couldn’t penetrate.

At first, Zayan welcomed the silence, telling himself that this was what he had wanted all along. The tension that had plagued their every interaction seemed to dissipate, replaced by a strange, hollow peace. But as the days wore on, he found the quiet to be more suffocating than he had anticipated. The absence of her presence—her voice, her actions—was like a void that grew larger with each passing hour.

He began to notice the small things—the way she would avoid looking at him, the way she no longer sought him out, even in the simplest of ways. The house, once filled with the subtle energy of her movements, now felt eerily empty. He told himself it didn’t matter, that this was how it was supposed to be. But the knot in his chest only tightened.

One evening, as he sat alone in the living room, the weight of his own solitude began to press down on him. The television played in the background, but he wasn’t really watching. His mind kept drifting to Ayzal, to the quiet, determined way she had retreated from him, giving him exactly what he had asked for. The realization hit him hard—he had pushed her away, and now she was gone, at least emotionally. The thought brought a pang of something he didn’t want to name, but it gnawed at him all the same.

Zayan found himself standing outside their bedroom door, his hand poised to knock but he hesitated. What would he even say if she opened the door? That he had made a mistake? That he was sorry? The words felt foreign, impossible to voice. He dropped his hand, stepping back with a heavy sigh. He wasn’t ready to face the consequences of what he had done, wasn’t ready to admit that the walls he had built had trapped him as much as they had kept her out.

In the end, he turned away, retreating back to his study room, the silence more deafening than ever. Ayzal, on the other side of the door, heard his footsteps fade away and felt a fresh wave of tears threaten to spill over. But she stayed strong, refusing to let them fall. She had made her choice, and she would see it through. She would give him the silence he wanted, even if it tore her apart piece by piece.