Enwrapped

Chapter 23

Perhaps God was still listening to her.

Saboor thought it was so because the the sky was grey, just like the dread in her heart. It was that time when people neither full asleep nor awake. She had once been a part of the crowd too- snoozing in a bus seat on the way to school, rubbing her eyes in the first college lecture, packing a tiffin for her internship...

Today, though, she was wide awake.

She was sitting at the edge of the bed, her hands clutching the blanket on both sides. The silver of the suitcase glinted a little in the corner of her eye, reminding her of what today's morning had come to bring for her, for their marriage and her life.

She did not even remember what was in the suitcase. What tangible belongings to pack when all she wanted was feelings she couldn't catch hold of? Everything in the wardrobe was too colorful, too memorable, and reminded her of things she wanted to forget.

Turning a little, she glanced at the person sleeping on his side of the bed, Muzammil. Often, at this time of the morning, she would be cuddled up against him, drifting off to sleep as he recited the Qur'an or tasbeeh. His calm voice would lull her away from the myriad of unwanted thoughts and fears. Now, evben in sleep, his brows were furrowed, his forehead creased as though in worry.

She had never seen him like this.

Saboor's fingers twitched. She wanted to reach out, run her fingers through his hair, caress the creases away from his forehead, let the worries seep from his skin into her own. Maybe he would lean into her touch like he always did. Maybe he would awaken, grab her hand, and ask in his thick, sleepy voice, "What happened, darling?"

No. She could not do this time.

Because this time, she was the one to put him in this misery.

Sucking in a deep breath, she blinked rapidly, begging herself to not burst into tears again.

She had to go. If she waited a minute longer in this room, she may never be able to leave.

She stood up, wiped her clammy hands over her kurta, and grabbed the suitcase handle. Its wheels silently rolled across the floor, and she mechanically walked with it, one step after another, until she reached the door of the room.

But then, she turned again.

Pressing her back against the door, she looked at him one last time, if that's what she could call it. She let her eyes rake over his face, his hands, his entire being, trying to draw a picture in her head that even pain would not be able to wash away. So many days of contemplation, so many days of thinking what it would be like walking away once and for all, and yet, her mind couldn't prepare her for this.

A lone tear streaked down her skin.

And then, she walked out the door.

Outside the darkness of the room, the bleak sunshine did nothing to provide her comfort. The house was drowned in varying shades of grey light. Looking around, she noticed the door to her parents-in-law's room, and that of her brother-in-law's, was thankfully closed. She tried not to make much noise as she descended the steps with the suitcase, and her bag hanging from her shoulder, but alas, she could still hear the loud shattering of her heart.

As she got down the last step-

"Saboor."

She got startled, her head jerking toward the voice.

There, at the dining table, sat Mazhar.

There was a cup of tea in his hand, his shoulders slumped forward a little as his elbows leaned on the wooden table. He took in the sight of her with her luggage, eyes wide, looking absolutely lost.