Fickle

Chapter 42

The days after Abdullah’s departure to Daura were filled with a kind of eerie stillness. In the absence of the tumultuous energy that Abdullah’s return had sparked, Kulthum found herself caught between the relief of avoiding immediate confrontation and the weight of the responsibilities that came with raising the twins on her own.

The quiet of her Minnesota home was sometimes comforting, sometimes suffocating. Kulthum had always prided herself on being self-sufficient, a trait she had honed in her demanding career as a surgeon. Yet the void left by Abdullah’s absence was different. It wasn’t just the logistical struggles of raising two children alone—it was the emotional turmoil of knowing that her family’s future still lay in the balance, precariously held between their past misunderstandings and the fragile hope of reconciliation.

She often found herself staring at the family photos scattered around the house, especially the one of her, Abdullah, and the twins from a time before everything had fallen apart. How different everything had been then, and how much she longed for a chance to rewrite those years.

Yet, her role as a mother was never in question. She focused on the twins, their needs, and their well-being. Jenna’s lively chatter kept the house full of energy, while Hudayfah’s quiet presence grounded Kulthum, forcing her to take moments of reflection in between the demands of work and parenting.

Jenna, being the extrovert she was, had not struggled as much with Abdullah’s absence. She had grown accustomed to the fact that Daddy wasn’t around, but her vivid imagination often filled the gap. She painted pictures of her father coming home, wrote letters to him, and kept a diary of all the little milestones she wanted to share with him.

But beneath her optimism, there were moments when her eyes would cloud over with confusion, particularly when she saw other children with their fathers. She would ask Kulthum questions like, “Why doesn’t Daddy call me, Mom?” or “When is Daddy coming home?”

Kulthum would simply smile and give gentle reassurances, doing her best to navigate the growing complexity of their situation without overwhelming the children.

Hudayfah, on the other hand, had become more withdrawn. His usual reserve had deepened into something more guarded. He seemed to sense the tension in the air, even when Kulthum tried to shield him from it. His reluctance to embrace Abdullah’s return—and to accept him as a father—became more pronounced.

“I don’t know if I want Daddy to come back,” Hudayfah admitted one evening, his voice low and hesitant as he sat beside Kulthum on the couch, a book lying forgotten in his lap.

Kulthum’s heart broke at his words. She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him. “I know, my love. I know. But remember, your father loves you both. He’s just trying to figure things out too. Things will get better, I promise.”

Hudayfah didn’t respond immediately. He simply nestled into her embrace, finding solace in her warmth, but his mind seemed far away. The idea of trusting Abdullah again, especially after everything that had happened, seemed impossible to him. The emotional distance was palpable, and Kulthum knew the journey to healing would be long—for both of them.

Though the space between them physically had grown, Kulthum made a conscious effort to communicate with Abdullah as best as she could, sending him updates on the children and ensuring that they knew he was still a part of their lives, even if he wasn’t physically present.

She shared small victories with him, like Jenna mastering a new song on the piano, or Hudayfah’s reluctant smile when he finally accepted his school certificate. She knew Abdullah would appreciate these moments, even if he couldn’t be there to witness them.