Eternity

Chapter 49

As-salamu alaikum wa rahmatullah wa barakatuhu

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As the sun grew brighter, Zayan prepared for work with his usual stoic efficiency. His tie was perfectly knotted, his suit crisp and immaculate. Ayzal, still half-asleep, watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, the soft rustling of fabric and the muted sounds of his movements lulling her into a drowsy state. Zayan glanced at her briefly before heading toward the door. "I will be back in the evening," he said, his tone neutral.

"Be safe," Ayzal murmured, the words almost lost in the silence of the morning. Zayan hesitated for a split second, something unreadable flickering in his eyes, before he nodded curtly and left.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Ayzal lay still for a moment longer, staring up at the ceiling. The emptiness of the room seemed to settle around her, a familiar weight she had grown accustomed to since their marriage. Her mind wandered back to the letter that had brought so much pain, the one Zayan had kept hidden from her, poisoning their relationship from the very beginning. Though things were still far from resolved between them, she couldn't help but think about the new life growing inside her, a fragile connection between them that held the promise of something better.

With a sigh, she pushed herself up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her body still felt heavy with fatigue but Ayzal had never been one to wallow in weakness. She was determined to keep herself occupied, to find some semblance of normalcy in the routine tasks that had once been second nature to her.

After a quick breakfast with her in laws, she set about the house chores, starting in the kitchen. The rhythmic scrubbing of pots and pans was almost therapeutic, a way to drown out the thoughts that constantly swirled in her mind. The clinking of dishes, the hum of the vacuum, the smell of freshly laundered clothes—each small task added to her sense of purpose. She moved from room to room with deliberate focus, her hands steady even as her heart remained conflicted.

By the time she reached their bedroom, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm, golden light through the windows. The room was a reflection of their marriage—orderly on the surface, but with an underlying tension that was impossible to ignore. The bed was unmade, the sheets tangled from Zayan's early departure. His suit jacket was draped over a chair, a few of his belongings scattered across the dresser. Ayzal sighed as she began to tidy up, her hands moving mechanically as she straightened the sheets, folded clothes, and dusted the furniture.

It was while she was dusting the nightstand that she found it—a small, crumpled photograph, partially hidden beneath a stack of papers. She froze, recognizing the faces instantly. It was a picture of her and Murad, taken back in college, before everything had fallen apart. They were both smiling, their faces full of youthful innocence and hope for the future. The sight of it sent a pang through her chest, a sharp reminder of the life she had once envisioned but had been irrevocably shattered.

She had no idea Zayan had kept this photo, let alone that it had found its way into their bedroom. A part of her wanted to crumple it further and throw it away, to rid herself of the painful memories it evoked. But another part, the one still tied to the past, couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she carefully placed the photograph back where she had found it, her heart heavy with the weight of unresolved emotions.

As the day wore on, Ayzal found herself increasingly exhausted. Her steps grew slower, her breaths more labored, but she stubbornly refused to stop. She needed to keep moving, to keep her mind from spiraling into the dark places it often ventured when she was alone.

It was late afternoon when she finally turned her attention to their room once more. The vacuum was in hand as she carefully maneuvered around the furniture, determined to leave no corner untouched. She was so absorbed in her task that she didn't hear the front door open or the sound of Zayan's footsteps approaching the bedroom.

Zayan had returned earlier than usual, his mind occupied with thoughts of Ayzal. He had spent the day trying to focus on work, but his thoughts kept drifting back to her—the way she had looked that morning, tired yet determined, the way she had quietly wished him well before he left. He knew she was still hurting, that the wounds between them ran deep, but something had shifted within him since the hospital. Seeing her so vulnerable, so affected by the weight of their shared past, had stirred emotions he had tried to suppress for so long.

When he walked into the house, the first thing he noticed was how quiet it was, save for the faint hum of the vacuum coming from their bedroom. A frown creased his brow as he made his way down the hall, and when he reached the doorway, he stopped in his tracks.

There was Ayzal, bent over with the vacuum, her face pale and drawn, but still she persisted. She didn't notice him at first, too focused on her task, and for a moment, Zayan simply stood there, watching her. A flood of emotions washed over him—guilt, regret, and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness. How could he have been so blind? How could he have let his anger and pain overshadow the fact that she, too, was suffering?

"Ayzal," he called softly, his voice cutting through the steady hum of the vacuum.

Startled, she turned to face him, her eyes widening in surprise. "Zayan... you are home early."

"Yeah," he replied, his tone gentle. "I finished up sooner than I expected."

She straightened, reaching for the power switch to turn off the vacuum. "I was just finishing up in here. I will be done in a minute."

But before she could resume her work, Zayan crossed the room and took the vacuum from her hands, setting it aside. "You need to rest," he said firmly, though his voice was laced with concern. "You have done enough already."

"I am fine," she insisted, though the fatigue was evident in her voice. "I just wanted to get things done."

Zayan shook his head, a small, rueful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You are stubborn, you know that?" He reached out, gently taking her hand in his, and guided her toward the bed. "Come on, sit down. You need to take care of yourself."

Ayzal hesitated, her eyes searching his for any sign of insincerity. She had grown so used to his coldness, his distance, that this sudden warmth and concern caught her off guard. But there was no mistaking the sincerity in his gaze, and for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to relax, to lean on him, even if just a little.

As she sat down on the edge of the bed, Zayan knelt in front of her, his hands still holding hers. "I know I have been... difficult," he began, his voice thick with emotion. "I know I have hurt you, and I can't even begin to make up for that. But I don't want you to keep pushing yourself like this. We may have a long way to go, but we are in this together now."

Tears welled up in Ayzal's eyes at his words, and she quickly blinked them away, not wanting to show how deeply they had affected her. She had longed to hear something like this from him, to see even a glimmer of the man she had once hoped he could be. But it was hard to let go of the past, to trust that things could truly change.

"I don't know if I can do this, Zayan," she whispered, her voice trembling. "There is so much pain, so many things we can't just forget."

"I don't expect you to," he replied quietly. "But we can start with today. We can start with this moment, and take it one step at a time."

Ayzal nodded slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction. "Okay," she said softly. "But I need you to be honest with me. I need you to be here, really here, if we are going to make this work."

Zayan squeezed her hands gently, his expression earnest. "I will be. I promise."

Ayzal allowed herself to lean into Zayan's embrace as he sat beside her on the bed, his arm wrapping around her shoulders in a gesture of comfort and support.

The room was quiet, the day's work forgotten, as they sat together in the fading light of the evening. There were still many challenges ahead, many wounds that needed healing, but for this moment, they could both take solace in the fact that they were not alone. And perhaps, just perhaps, they could find a way to move forward, one step at a time.