Bekaraan [Limitless]

09 Heart

"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart."

- Helen Keller

The hold on the pillow that was tightly clutched to her chest loosened as the call for Fajar prayer reverberating around the premises woke her up. She muffled the yawn with the back of her hand and frowned on seeing the other side. Cold and empty - just like how he had now become towards her. Stretching her arms out, she sat up on the bed when her vision caught him prostrating on the prayer mat.

Her face which was contorted into the vestiges of broken sleep softened as she watched the breathtaking and peaceful sight. For a minute, she remained in that position, drinking away at the vision before her while serenity enveloped her from every nook.

She scrutinized his every movement. The way his hands would go up to his ears, crossing down to his abdomen later, him bending over in rukuh, and finally prostrating in front of his Rabb,. She watched it all. And she savored it thoroughly.

She watched how calmness exuded from him as he prayed. She watched how his prayer held a steadiness to it as if in this moment nothing else mattered to him, like nothing could intervene while he was talking to his Rabb. Like nothing even existed outside of this sanctuary of the prayer mat, just like how everything had ceased to exist for her as well as she drank away at the sight in a trance she wasn't aware she was in.

Finally, he stretched his hands up for a dua. She wondered what he asked for and if she was in it. She chuckled humorlessly. Wishful thinking. Besides, what did he even have to ask for? He had everything, didn't he?

She looked into his eyes perceptible under the faint glow of light streaming through the crack in the curtains. She sucked in a breath. Those eyes, those midnight eyes that were a mirror to the darkness surrounding the room held nothing but vulnerability in them - something she had never seen in him. Something she could never even imagine associated with him. Maaz Jahangir was a very secure and well put man. His resolve was strong with no crack whatsoever. She had never seen him in this state before. From his personality to his aura, he only screamed power, stability and calmness. But now as she looked into those eyes, she saw something else - something she couldn't decipher, something that intrigued her and she wanted to know more about.

If she hadn't seen him praying she would've never been able to see beyond the seam. Beyond the strong exterior that shed itself into pieces before his Rabb. Like the God above was the only one permitted to see him for who he really was; while the outside world could only see what he wanted them to see.

It was when he finally stood up did her daze finally break. He was about to fold the prayer mat when his eyes fell on her.

"You wanna pray?" He stopped midway, to decide if he should fold the prayer-mat or leave it there in case she wanted to.

"Huh?" She said in a haze. Then blinked her eyes, making sense of the surroundings. "Oh." She straightened up. "No." She dismounted the bed. "He never listens to me." A humorless chuckle. A painful hollowness.

"He listens to everyone." He said but folded the prayer-mat nonetheless. If she didn't want to pray, he wasn't going to pester her. It was her decision to make. Prayer should be offered through one's heart, for the love one harbors for God. Not out of force.

"Guess I'm an exception then." She shrugged and his heart ached at the nonchalance. Just how much she must've been through to be this way. He didn't have any words to comfort her. He didn't want to impose his beliefs on her. She needed to navigate through her life and get to them herself. Talking to her could only do so much. She needed to realize it on her own.