LET ME LOVE YOU

Chapter 55 - the best kept secret

Fellow Night owls, we meet again 👀

Aya

Bliss.

If I'm asked to describe my life in one word, that's the one that fits it the most.

My world, once muted in shades of black and gray, has exploded back into a medley of vibrant colors. It wasn't a sudden, jarring shift, but a gradual process, a state of blossoming all nurtured by Hafeez's unwavering love. He has, with a patient and tender hand, painted joy back onto the canvas of my life, stroke by gentle stroke.

My mornings now begin with the warmth of his arm draped around me, his soft breath stirring my hair. The quiet moments we share before the sun fully rises are my favorite part of the day, because they hold such a precious intimacy, one that I consider to be a silent acknowledgment of our intertwined lives. Sometimes I even pretend to still be asleep just to prolong those moments and soak in the feeling of being truly safe and cherished, for real this time.

The hollowness that once resided within me has been replaced with a quiet contentment and a deep-seated sense of belonging, while laughter has made a comeback in my life. It bubbles up so easily now, sometimes triggered by his silly jokes, his dramatic retellings of everyday events with Anas and Sadiq, and sometimes just by the way he looks at me; a look that holds an entire universe of love and adoration. A look that speaks in volumes, constantly whispering 'I see you. I love you. You are important to me'

He didn't just fill the void; he rebuilt the entire foundation, brick by brick and created a sanctuary where my heart could finally rest.
He makes me feel seen, truly seen, for the woman I am, flaws and all, and the happiness that felt 'stolen' has been returned to me as something deeper and even more resilient. a happiness born of understanding, out of forgiveness, and of the unwavering knowledge that we have weathered the storm and chosen to rebuild from scratch.

Of course, The scars will always be there as a testament to the pain we both endured, but they no longer define us. They are simply a part of our story now; a reminder of how far we have come, and a quiet promise of the brighter chapters yet to be written.

For us. By us. And between us.

"C'mon Aya! lower those hips!" Aleena's voice, annoyingly cheerful, cuts through the burn in my thighs. I manage a shaky breath, my body protesting with every tiny movement on this torture device they call a reformer.

I hate Pilates. I really, truly hate it. The only reason I'm here, grunting and sweating in a studio that smells faintly of lavender and old socks, is because Aleena, bless her insistent heart, decided it's 'good for the baby' and basically didn't give me a chance to protest.

While it is actually good for the baby, it's terrible for my sanity because all I want to do is stay in my bed until I get moulded into it, but apparently that's too much to ask these days.

I push through another agonizing repetition, my muscles quivering like a leaf in a hurricane. Aleena, meanwhile, is a picture of serene grace on the reformer beside me, her movements fluid and effortless. She looks like what a Pilates ad would If it were to come to life, all toned limbs and calm breathing, while I'm very sure I resemble a beached whale.

"You're doing great, sweetie," she grins at me, completely oblivious to my internal monologues of misery "Just a few more. Think of those pelvic floor muscles"