In The Grip of Trust

chapter 5 : The weight of faith

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That night, the house was quiet, wrapped in a blanket of calm. Ayesha sat in the armchair after changing into comfy clothes, her gaze lost in the shadows that danced on the walls, a stark contrast to Amir, who is on the bed, trying to find comfort in a world that felt increasingly foreign to him. The room was dimly lit, the candles from the night long extinguished, leaving behind the remnants of their awkward first night as a married couple.

After a moment of silence, Amir glanced at Ayesha and suggested, “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.” Ayesha looked at him, surprise flickering in her eyes, but there was no protest; she simply stood up and moved toward the bed, her expression devoid of emotion. Amir stood up to settle himself in the couch , Ayesha feeling sorry asked him to share the bed as they both were tired. Amir hesitated for a moment, sensing something amiss in her demeanor, but he said nothing. They both ended up lying on the bed, the space between them feeling like a chasm.

As the hours passed, Amir’s eyes grew heavy, the events of the day settling into a lull. But in the stillness of the night, the call to prayer stirred something within him. He awoke, feeling the weight of his heart as he prepared to perform his Tahajjud prayer.

He slipped quietly from the bed, careful not to disturb Ayesha, who remained motionless beside him, her breathing soft and even. Amir moved to the corner of the room, allowing the serene atmosphere to envelop him as he prayed. The flicker of faith surged through him, grounding him in a world that felt chaotic and heavy.

After completing his Tahajjud prayer, Amir turned to Ayesha, contemplating the bond they had yet to forge. He approached her gently, leaning down to whisper, “Ayesha, it’s time for Fajr.”

Ayesha stirred, her eyes fluttering open, confusion etching her features. The moment she registered his presence, a shadow crossed her face. “I… I don’t pray,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep and something else—an echo of disillusionment. “I don’t believe in those things.”

The weight of her words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. Amir’s heart sank at her confession. “Ayesha, it’s important,” he said softly, searching for the right words. “Faith can guide you through difficult times.”

“I’m tired of living, Amir,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with an emptiness that chilled him to the bone. “Nothing matters to me anymore.”

A wave of helplessness washed over Amir as he searched her eyes, hoping to find a glimmer of the girl he had seen on their wedding day. But all he found was a void, a deep-seated pain that felt insurmountable.

He didn’t know how to reach her, how to bridge the chasm that seemed to separate them. “Okay,” he said finally, a resigned heaviness settling in his chest. “I won’t push you. Just… try to get some rest.”

With that, he returned to his corner, completing his Fajr prayer with a heavy heart. As he prayed, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Ayesha was lost in a darkness he couldn’t comprehend. He prayed for her, for strength and healing, but deep down, he felt the weight of their situation pressing down on him.

Once finished, Amir climbed back into bed, exhaustion weighing him down. He turned to Ayesha, who had curled back into her blanket, her expression a mixture of fatigue and resignation. It pained him to see her so lost, and despite the space between them, he wished he could reach out, to hold her and let her know that she wasn’t alone.

But the distance felt insurmountable. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, surrendering to sleep, the lingering worry for Ayesha occupying his thoughts. He could still feel her presence in the room, a fragile soul wrapped in pain, and he silently vowed to find a way to help her heal, no matter how long it took.

The night drifted on, and the world outside continued its cycle, but inside Amir’s heart, the struggle had just begun.

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