In The Grip of Trust

Chapter 9 : The Quiet Struggles

The morning started like the others had, with a soft knock on the door as Amir’s mother entered the room. Ayesha stirred awake, still feeling the weight of the previous night’s conversation and the way Hamza’s innocent question about her past had left her unsettled. Amir, too, was already awake, lying beside her with his thoughts elsewhere.

"Ayesha," Amir’s mother called gently, her voice warm and inviting. "Let’s spend some time with the twins today. You should learn how to care for them like a mother. They need you, and it will help you get used to your new role."

Ayesha hesitated, feeling the pressure of that title—"mother." She had never imagined herself in such a role, especially in the state she was in now, but she could see the kindness in Amir’s mother’s eyes, and she couldn’t refuse her. She got ready for the day and followed amir's mother.

Amir remained quiet, watching as Ayesha reluctantly followed his mother out of the room. The thought of her stepping into this role as the children’s mother filled him with conflict. He knew it was necessary, but every time he saw Ayesha with them, a part of him ached for Layla. And now, knowing that Ayesha had loved someone else before him, that hurt twisted even deeper. The thought of another man in her life before him, even if it was in the past, gnawed at him, making it difficult to shake off his feelings of unease.

Downstairs, Ayesha was taught how to feed the twins, patiently guided by Amir’s mother. The twins, oblivious to the awkwardness of it all, gurgled and smiled at Ayesha, their small hands reaching for her as she spoon-fed them. It was a new experience for Ayesha, but despite her numbness, she found a strange calm in the routine. The children were innocent, pure, and they didn’t expect anything from her except care.

Amir, watching from a distance, couldn’t help but feel bothered by the sight. Not because Ayesha was with his children—he knew that was inevitable—but because of the growing dissonance in his heart. How could he ever fully accept this when he was still haunted by the past, by Layla’s absence, and now by the knowledge that Ayesha had her own hidden history?

As the day wound down, Ayesha found herself drawn into more household routines, under the guidance of Amir’s mother. She was quiet, following instructions mechanically, but her mind was elsewhere. She still didn’t feel any attachment to this life or to the people around her. She didn’t want any of it—this role, this family, this marriage.

Later that night, as they lay in bed together, the tension between them was palpable. Amir’s thoughts were racing, the image of Ayesha’s quiet admission about her past crush still lingering in his mind. He hadn’t addressed it, but it ate at him, making the silence between them feel heavier.

In the middle of the night, Amir woke up as usual to offer Tahajjud prayer. He sat up quietly, not wanting to disturb Ayesha, but before he left the bed, he turned to her.

"Ayesha," he said softly, "you should pray sometimes. It might help."

Ayesha’s eyes flickered open, but she shook her head. "I don’t pray," she muttered, her voice laced with exhaustion. "I don’t believe in those things anymore."

Amir looked at her for a moment, a frown crossing his face, but he didn’t push further. He had heard this from her before, and each time, it saddened him. He couldn’t understand how someone so brilliant could be so lost, so detached from faith. It was as though the light inside her had been completely extinguished.

He left her to rest and continued with his Tahajjud prayer in the corner of the room. Afterward, he quietly  called Zain to join him at fazr prayer. It had become their routine—teaching Zain to pray, guiding him gently through the motions. Zain was young, but he followed his father’s lead, watching Amir with wide, curious eyes as he tried to mimic his every move.

Ayesha watched them from the bed, a quiet observer, but she remained still, her heart unmoved by the sight.

For the next two days, this pattern continued. Amir’s quiet suggestions for her to pray were always met with the same refusal, and Ayesha remained distant, emotionally detached from everything around her.

Meanwhile, Hamza and Sara were their usual lively selves, attending college every day, teasing Amir and Ayesha whenever they were around. It was the only thing that brought a semblance of normalcy to the household—Hamza’s jokes, Sara’s laughter, the warmth of Amir’s parents. But beneath the surface, Amir and Ayesha were like two strangers, drifting further apart with each passing day.

Soon, it was time for both of them to return to their routines. Ayesha’s university classes were starting again, and Amir had to get back to his office. The house grew quieter as the realization of their responsibilities set in.

As they prepared for the day ahead, Amir couldn’t help but glance at Ayesha. She had changed into her university clothes, her face expressionless as she gathered her books. He wondered if she was feeling the same apprehension he was—about the future, about how they were supposed to navigate this strange life they had been thrust into. But Ayesha gave nothing away, her eyes dull and unreadable.

As they left the house together, side by side yet miles apart, Amir couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how hard he tried, there was something in Ayesha that he couldn’t reach—something broken, something that only time, or perhaps faith, could heal.