The line never crossed

Chapter 1

Arisha's POV

I watched as the sun disappeared behind the clouds. Another sunset, another day ended, without much happening. I walked up to the closed window, peering through the glass. The streets were empty and lifeless as ever. Since the onset of War between Sunni Muslims and Shia Muslims, I have been locked up in my house just like everyone else has been locked up in their own. I could hear the distant voice of Adhaan, and realising that it was time for me to say Maghrib salah, I went to make wudu.

After saying my prayers, I went to prepare something for myself to eat. I had not eaten anything since morning and now I felt pretty hungry. I decided to cook potatoes; there were hardly any vegetables available because of the war, and the few that were made available to us had to be used judiciously. Since I was the only person to eat in my home, I made only two potatoes for me which I was planning to eat now and then again in the morning.

While cooking food I thought about the numerous people who went to bed empty stomach, I instantly thanked Allah for providing me with the same. I then started thinking of the good old times when there was no war - kids would play in the streets, their laughter and amazing voices filling the streets, there would always be some visitors at home, hospital work was smooth with less chaos and desperate cases, that were seen nowadays, everything was so much better then. I couldn't help but feel bad for giving up my hospital duties, but I had no other choice after all I was a widow now and had to stay home till the next four months and ten days after my husband’s demise. It was the period of id-dat during which a widow should not appear in front of all other males except for my brothers and father, who were not in the country. They along with their families and my mother had gone to Saudi Arabia to perform Umrah, I would have accompanied them, had I not been in Id-dat.

Within ten minutes I took the potatoes out of the steamer and put them into a plate. I had very fine cutleries, something I was fond of. Feroze had bought me three new dinner set, before leaving to fight in the war. He said that the reason why he got me three new sets was so that I would miss him till he came back, as the cutleries would remind me of him while he was away . It had been only two months of our married life, after which he had to leave and soon came the news of his death. He had died while serving our country and I felt really proud about it. I had spent days and nights crying my eyes out, after all I had lost husband. Now I was forced to carry on with my life without my better half, Feroze.

I ate my food alone, after finishing it; I washed the bowls and left them on the rack to dry off. I then switched on the light, the one with the lowest illuminating power. I sat in the living room, reading Quran. Ever since Feroze left me, I had become more attached to my religion. After reading Yaseen Shareef (one of the verses in Quran),I closed it, then raised my hands up in prayer. I prayed for Allah to grant us wisdom that we may stop fighting with each other and live in peace and harmony. I asked him to provide food and shelter to those who are deprived of it, and to grant a place in Jannah(heaven) to the departed souls and give strength to the families who had suffered a loss of someone dear.

It reminded me of Feroze. Thinking of Feroze I remembered all those times we had spent together, just two months, yet those were full of love and affection. Feroze really loved me; he was a caring husband too. He had to leave right after three weeks, but he would come to see me, giving me small-small surprises in the forms of gifts that he would send. They weren't expensive stuff, which cannot even be expected considering he was fighting in a war, but they conveyed how much he loved me. Like once he sent me a rare wild flower. It was magnificent and I had written a thank you letter to him, but I believe he was never given a chance to reply back.

That wild flower was also the last gift and message that I had received from him, after which he left.

He never touched me, because I was not ready for it and he had respected that, he never forced me to do anything out of my will, and I really appreciated that. He could be considered the ideal husband but then again, we had spent so little time together that I could only see the good in him and not his faults.

As I was thinking about him, my eyes landed on the unused calendar, hanging on the wall. I checked the date, it was 25th of November, two weeks left for my id-dat to be completed, and then I will be able to join my colleagues at the hospital, to serve the needy and care for the sick and injured. At that moment I also realized that almost four months had passed by, four months since Feroze went away. A sob escaped my lips but I fought the tears. Feroze didn't like seeing me cry and so I will not cry over him anymore. From this moment onwards I will relish our memories and continue to live till my last breath. I promised to keep him alive in my memories, with this thought in mind, I went to pray Isha sallah, after which I retired to bed thinking that tomorrow would be another day of grieving and reflecting on my past, just like every other day was these days.

 A/N

This is just a filler chapter,hopefully next will not be as boring as this one...

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