A few weeks passed, and the exams had finally started. I’d been feeling incredibly weak since the miscarriage. Everything seemed heavier, harder, like the world had lost its color. I felt so detached from myself—like I wasn’t really living, just existing. Sadness clung to me, creeping in at the smallest moments. I missed home. I missed Amma, my family. I just wanted to be surrounded by the warmth and love I grew up with.
It was a Wednesday, the last day of exams. I managed to get home before Zain. He’d been handling everything these past few weeks, from the cooking to the cleaning, all while juggling his studies. I wanted to surprise him by making dolma—our favorite Turkish dish. Grapevine leaves were already out from the fridge, and I had just begun prepping when my phone rang. It was Saddie.
I answered and placed the phone on speaker.
"Papi, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice filled with playful energy.
“Cooking,” I replied softly.
"The whole family’s here, including Dad and Abba. Let’s get on a video call," he said excitedly, not even giving me a chance to respond before switching the call to video.
“Assalamu alaikum,” I greeted everyone, going through each elder one by one.
Saddie smiled mischievously as I teased him. “Yakake saddidi?”
But then, I noticed how my father was looking at me, his gaze sharp yet filled with concern. He took the phone from Saddie and said seriously, “If this is getting too hard, defer the semester and come home. I don’t like how you’re looking. ”
Before I could respond, Mom chimed in with a soft laugh, “And what about her husband? She should just leave him there and come home because she’s pregnant? He can join next semester when she’s in her third trimester.”
My heart skipped a beat—Amma had told everyone about the pregnancy. The weight of their love and concern felt both comforting and overwhelming. I smiled but didn’t say anything, i don't want break their hears but i know i have to tell them soon for now i just let their words wash over me.
“Where’s Zain?” Dad asked.
“He’s still at school,” I replied. “He has two papers left—one later today and another tomorrow.”
Dad replies "I will call him a but later"
We chatted a bit more before ending the call, and I went back to preparing the dolmas. But I still cannot get the way Amma was looking at me out of my head i know she will get it out of me soon. She reads my face like a book. After finishing, I showered, prayed, and stayed on the prayer mat reciting Surah Taha, letting the familiar verses soothe my heart.
Just then, Zain walked in, his voice breaking the stillness with a gentle “Salam.” He sat down next to me, and without thinking, I leaned my head on his broad shoulder, continuing to recite softly. His presence was always grounding, a safe harbor in the storm of emotions swirling inside me.
As I finished the verse, he smiled and recited the next one. We continued like this, trading verses until we completed the Surah together. It felt like a sacred moment, an unspoken bond that tied us closer. When we were done, Zain leaned over and pressed a kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering as though he was offering a silent prayer for us both.
“Allah bless you, baby,” he murmured against my skin.
I smiled, my heart swelling with warmth. “And you too, hayati’m. How was the exams?" I asked looking at his gaze fixated on me.
"Alhamdulillah" he replied
"I made dolmas.” I said excited for his reaction
His face lit up, his hands instantly finding mine. “I smelled it the moment I walked in,” he said, his excitement palpable. “I’m starving, let’s go eat.”
YOU ARE READING
ECHOES OF DEFIANCE
Lãng mạnIn their neighborhood, rumors about Zain and his father linger like shadows. Though they've lived here for over two decades, Zain remains an enigma-a silent storm with a tragic aura shaped by whispers of his mother's mysterious death. His cold, guar...
