aab e hayat ( English version)

chapter no 35

He couldn't move for a while after seeing the check for thirty-five million. Imama had handed him the envelope just a moment ago while he was on the phone with someone.

 As he opened the envelope, he asked Imama, "What's in it?" Before she could respond, the check with his name on it was in his hand. Salar looked up at Imama. She was sitting on the sofa, placing two cups of tea on the center table, staring at the rising steam. Without saying a word, he sat next to her.

"I want you to keep this money. Either hold onto it or invest it in SIF," she said, picking up a tea mug after he sat down.

"Did you sell the ring?" Salar asked impulsively. She couldn't speak for a moment, then quietly, with her head lowered, she said, "It was mine, so I could sell it."

"I didn't give it to you to sell," he was upset or maybe disappointed. "You don't appreciate things." He couldn't help but say.

Imama nodded while sipping her tea. "You're right. I don't appreciate things. I appreciate people," Imama said.

"You don't appreciate people either," Salar was still upset. "Not just me, maybe that's why I got punished." Tears welled up in her eyes, her voice trembled along with her hands. Silence fell, paused, then broke.

"You're foolish." He wasn't upset anymore. He put the check back in the envelope and placed it on the table.

"I was," Imama said.

"You still are," Salar insisted.

"What do I need wisdom for now?" she asked in response. "Keep this money with you. You'll need it for many things," instead of answering her question, he said.

"I have enough money. My account isn't empty. I just wanted to contribute to SIF," she was saying.

"I don't want to contribute through jewelry sales. Just pray for it, jewelry can only bring money," he left the sentence unfinished, but the message was clear. Salar picked up his tea mug.

"I don't wear jewelry anyway. It's been lying in the locker for years. I was thinking I should..." Salar didn't let her finish and said harshly, "You won't do anything with that jewelry. Let it stay for the children. I won't take anything from you now."

She fell silent. After taking a few sips of tea, Salar put the mug down and turned to her as if asking helplessly, "Why are you doing all this?"

Without saying anything, she rested her forehead on his arm and wrapped her arms around him. It was the first time Salar realized that as the date of his operation was approaching, she was more anxious and distressed. Anxiety was perhaps a small word to describe Imama's worry, distress, fears, and anxieties. He was worried too, but Imama's anxiety seemed to overshadow his own.

"Don't come with me, Imama! Stay here, with the children," Salar once again told her. She wanted to go to America with him for the surgery, but Salar wished she wouldn't. Although he had given in to her insistence, seeing her so worried now made him think she shouldn't be there with him. How would she handle any unexpected or bad situation there?

"The children are still very young. How will you stay with me, leaving them alone? They will get worried." He was now giving her a new excuse.

"They won't. I've explained to them," She wasn't swayed. "Furqan will be there with me, Papa will be there."

"You should stay here, with the children," Salar insisted again.

"Do you not need me?" she was upset.

"Always," Salar touched her head with his lips. "Always," he repeated.

For the first time in her life, Imama pondered over this word. He was lying.