Eternity

Chapter 41

As-salamu alaikum wa rahmatullah wa barakatuhu

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Ayzal stood in front of him, her chest heaving with the effort it had taken to push him away. Her eyes were wide with a mix of fear and disbelief, and her hand was still raised from the slap she had just delivered. The sound of it seemed to echo in the room, a stark reminder of the line he had almost crossed.

“Stop this! Now!” Ayzal’s voice trembled, but there was a strength in it that Zayan hadn’t heard before. That strength cut through the fog of rage that had consumed him, bringing him back to the present, to the horrifying reality of what he had almost done. His vision cleared, and the room, once filled with red-hot fury, became sharper, more defined, as if he were waking from a nightmare.

Zayan blinked, disoriented, his hands still outstretched as if they couldn’t quite believe they had been forced to let go. He looked down at them, at the fingers that had nearly squeezed the life out of someone. His gaze then traveled up to Ayzal’s mother, who was now slumped against the wall, gasping for breath, her hands clutching her throat where angry red marks were already forming. The sight of her, so vulnerable, so human, shocked him to his core. What had he become?

The realization of what he had done hit him like a freight train. He had been moments away from killing her. The woman who had wronged him, yes, but still a human being. The thought made him sick to his stomach. He staggered back, the weight of his actions crashing down on him, threatening to crush him beneath it.

"I..." Zayan choked out, his voice barely a whisper as he looked at Ayzal, horror and shame written across his face. "I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to?” Ayzal interrupted, her voice laced with disbelief. She stepped forward, her own body trembling, and with a strength he didn’t know she possessed, she slapped him again. The force of it snapped his head to the side, and this time, it wasn’t just the physical pain that stung—it was the realization of how far he had fallen, how far he had let his anger take him.

"How could you?" Ayzal’s voice was thick with tears, but there was an edge of steel in it as well. "How could you do this? Have you lost your mind? She is my mother, Zayan! What were you thinking?"

Zayan’s heart clenched at the look in her eyes—a mixture of hurt, disappointment, and something else—something that cut him deeper than any slap ever could. It was fear. Fear of him. He had terrified her. The woman who had been wronged by everyone, including him, had just watched her husband turn into a monster.

"I wasn’t thinking," Zayan whispered, his voice strained as he tried to explain the inexplicable. "I just—she lied, Ayzal. She lied about everything, and Murad—he is dead because of her. I—" His words faltered as he looked at Ayzal, pleading for understanding, for something that could take away the crushing weight of what he had almost done.

"This isn’t who you are, Zayan," Ayzal continued, her voice shaking as tears streamed down her face. "You are not a killer. You are not… this."

Her words hit him with the force of a sledgehammer, and he felt something inside him break. He wasn’t this person. He didn’t want to be this person. But he had let his anger consume him, had let it drive him to the brink of something he couldn’t take back.

"I am sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse, broken. "I am so sorry, Ayzal. I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to hurt her. I didn’t mean to hurt you."

Ayzal’s expression softened slightly, but the fear was still there, lingering in her eyes. She glanced over at her mother, who was still catching her breath, her eyes wide with shock and pain. The room was filled with a heavy, oppressive silence, broken only by the sound of their breathing.

"You need to leave," Ayzal said quietly, her voice trembling but firm. "You need to get out of here, Zayan. I… I can’t be around you right now. I can’t…"

Her words trailed off, but Zayan understood. The trust, fragile as it had been, was shattered. He had crossed a line, and there was no going back. The anger, the hatred—he had let it take control, and now he was paying the price.

Zayan looked at her, his heart aching with a pain that felt almost physical. "Ayzal, I... I don't know what to say. I don’t know how to make this right."

"Maybe you can’t," Ayzal replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "You were right, some things can’t be fixed and we are broken beyond repair"

Her words hung in the air, heavy and final. Zayan felt his chest tighten with a grief so deep it threatened to overwhelm him. But he knew she was right. How could they come back from this? How could he ever expect her to look at him the same way after what he had done?

Without another word, Zayan turned and left the room, his steps heavy, his heart even heavier. As he walked down the hallway, the events of the past few minutes replayed in his mind, each memory more painful than the last. The guilt, the shame, it all crashed over him in waves, threatening to drown him.

He didn’t know where he was going, didn’t know what he was going to do next. All he knew was that he had to get away, had to put distance between himself and the horror of what he had almost done. But as he walked away, one thing was clear—he couldn’t run from the truth any longer. He had to face it, had to face the darkness within himself.

He found himself outside, the cool night air washing over him, but it did nothing to calm the storm raging inside. His hands shook as he looked down at them, the memory of how close he had come to ending a life seared into his mind. He had always thought of himself as controlled, as someone who could handle anything. But today, he had learned the hard way that everyone has a breaking point.

Zayan closed his eyes, leaning against the cold wall of the hospital, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The enormity of what had happened settled on him like a shroud, suffocating in its weight.

What had he done? What had he almost done?

The image of Ayzal’s mother, choking and gasping for air, flashed in his mind, and he felt bile rise in his throat. This was supposed to be his family—these were supposed to be the people he protected. And yet, he had let his anger, his hatred for her lies, drive him to nearly commit an unforgivable act.

"How do I come back from this?" he whispered to the night, his voice breaking. There was no answer, only the silent judgment of the darkness that surrounded him.

Zayan knew he couldn’t go back into that room. Not now. He had to find a way to make amends, to somehow rebuild what he had so carelessly destroyed. But how could he ask for forgiveness when he couldn’t even forgive himself?

He needed to be alone, to think, to figure out what kind of man he wanted to be. Because the man he had seen in that hospital room, the man who had lost control and nearly strangled a defenseless woman—that wasn’t who he wanted to be. That wasn’t who he could be.

But most of all, he had to find a way to protect Ayzal from himself. If that meant walking away, giving her the space she needed to heal, then that is what he would do. But even as he made that decision, Zayan couldn’t shake the fear that it might be too late, that the damage had already been done. And that terrified him more than anything else.