Fickle

Chapter 55

The house was still, bathed in the warm glow of a single lamp. Kulthum sat on the edge of the couch, staring at her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The earlier phone call replayed in her mind, each word Hudayfah had spoken to Abdullah etched vividly in her thoughts.

It was a step—a small, cautious one—but a step nonetheless. For weeks, she had watched her son retreat further into himself, holding his emotions so tightly that it hurt to see. Tonight, there had been a glimmer of change, and while it gave her hope, it also left her wrestling with the weight of her own decisions.

She leaned back, closing her eyes. Letting Abdullah back into their lives had always been a calculated risk. Trusting him again after everything meant reopening old wounds—wounds that had taken her six long years to stitch together.

Her fingers brushed against the corner of her journal on the coffee table. It had been her sanctuary during those years, a place to pour out her anger, grief, and guilt. The entries from the first few months after leaving Daura were scrawled and raw, barely legible in places. But as time passed, the lines became steadier, the words more deliberate.

Yet here she was, back at the same crossroads. Abdullah’s absence was keenly felt, but his presence would be just as challenging to navigate. The twins had started to adapt to the idea of him as part of their lives—Jenna with her boundless enthusiasm, and Hudayfah with his guarded curiosity. But what about her?

Forgiveness wasn’t just about Abdullah. It was about freeing herself from the bitterness that had taken root in her heart. She thought about his voice tonight, how it softened as he spoke to Hudayfah, how he had listened with genuine interest.

He had changed. She could feel it in the way he approached her now—with patience and understanding instead of the brash determination of the man she’d once known. He was trying to be the father their children needed, and perhaps even the partner she’d once believed he could be.

But doubt lingered. Could she trust this version of Abdullah? Could she let herself believe that his transformation was genuine and lasting? And if she did, what would that mean for the carefully constructed life she’d built for herself and the twins?

Kulthum opened her eyes and glanced toward the hallway. Jenna and Hudayfah were sound asleep, their breaths soft and even. They were her world, her anchor. Everything she did was for them, and yet, they were the ones urging her forward into the unknown.

Jenna’s drawings—always including “Daddy” now—and Hudayfah’s tentative step toward rebuilding a bond spoke louder than any of her internal debates. Perhaps it wasn’t just about her anymore. Perhaps it was about giving her children the chance to have what she hadn’t: a complete family.

But complete didn’t always mean perfect.

Kulthum rose from the couch, her movements slow and deliberate. She picked up her journal and flipped to a blank page. After a moment of hesitation, she began to write, her pen scratching softly against the paper.

“Dear Abdullah,

Tonight, Hudayfah spoke to you about stars. He’s opening up to you in ways I never thought possible, and for that, I’m grateful. But I need you to understand that this is only the beginning…”

Her words flowed, a mix of honesty and guarded hope. She wasn’t ready to give him everything—not yet—but she could offer him this: a glimpse into her thoughts, her fears, and the fragile hope she dared to nurture.

When she finished, she placed the journal back on the table and stared out the window, the stars glittering against the inky sky.

It’s not just about Betelgeuse nearing the end of its life cycle, she thought. Sometimes, stars collapse only to become something stronger, brighter—a new beginning.