A tale of love, loss, and new beginnings.
Hareem wants to start over, Momin is stuck in the past. Can a newly wedded couple learn to love and accept one another while also dealing with an uncertain future and a haunting past?
Trigger warning: ptsd...
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Momin lazily unlocked his phone and turned off the morning alarm. Letting out a yawn, he stretched his arms in front of him, and sat up on the couch. Recollections of last night poured in, causing a nostalgic smile to appear on his face.
Although he hadn't talked to Hareem after their chat about keeping their wedding a secret, the night had definitely been memorable. The food had been delicious, the ambiance was peaceful and welcoming, and the intimate company had been just right. The elders had talked about the past and had laughed over their mistakes, making even Ahmad, who seemed to be quiet, end up laughing at some point.
All of it had all been a good distraction from the thought that had settled in his stomach last night.
He shook his head, there was no reason to turn a perfect morning sour. Checking the time on his cell phone again, he stood up and began to get ready for his eight am class with Professor Hammad.
Twenty minutes later when he returned from the bathroom, sharply dressed and freshly showered, he found his mother busy in his small kitchen, cooking breakfast, while his father sat on one of the island stools, still in his pajamas.
"Assalamu Allykum," Momin announced as he neared them.
"You're finally here! I thought you'll take forever," his father exclaimed, folding his newspaper and making his way towards the bathroom. "Wa'alykum Salaam, by the way."
Momin exchanged smiles with his mother.
"Wa'alykum Salaam, you know how he is about his bathroom routine." She shook her head as she turned on the blender. "He's growing grumpier as he ages." Momin let out a chuckle, refraining from pointing out that she too was aging.
"Did you guys sleep well?" He asked, sliding onto an island stool.
"Yeah, it was fine. Your father complained a little about not bringing his pillow from home, but you know how he is."
Momin nodded knowingly. His mother came over and handed him a clear glass mug full to the brim with a milkshake-like liquid.
"What's this?" He asked.
"A strawberry smoothie," she told in a flat tone. Momin smelled it and cautiously took a sip. His eyes grew wide, but he swallowed the liquid anyway.
"Amaaa! This raw egg smoothie will make me sick."
"No, it won't. Drink up, you've gotten quite weak." He stared at her with a pleading look. "Don't whine, Momin." He gulped down the smoothie without a breath in between. His mother smiled at him in satisfaction before turning around to place the mug in the basin.
"Do you plan on leaving today?" He asked, wiping his mouth.
"Yeah. Your father can't take too many days off from work."
"Why doesn't he retire already? Like Uncle Shoukat did."
"He can't do that," she replied, looking at him straight in the eye. "It'll give him a lot of time to think about things that'll drive him crazy," The air in the room suddenly got dense. Momin looked at the smooth surface of the marble slab on the island. He wondered when this topic would stop hurting them. He knew his parents had felt the same feelings he had felt yesterday, the same heaviness. It was one of the biggest moments in his life, and his brother wasn't there. The brother and son who had been the center of their universe, the one who had walked out without saying bye. "By the way, did you see how good Hareem looked yesterday?" His mother burst out, her tone suddenly excited. "It's too bad she stained the original dress, but the green one looked so good on her!"
