Heart Broken (Unedited)

Forty-Five

Oh my...beautiful. Is it about the call? I swear it's nothing. I...i...i'm sorry. I promise you it's not what you think. Not even close. I...

She held up her hand in a gesture to shut me up. My eyes frantically searched hers for something, anything. Instead, she smiled wiping her face with the back of her hand. I held her hand and led her to the bed. Slumping beside her, i made to explain to her again but she brushed it off. Like it was nothing. And i hate that treatment. It scares me. I want her to tell me what's wrong. I want her to show me that what i'm doing isn't right. I want her to tell me what exactly she doesn't like. Heck i want her to yell at me even. But no. My wife is so calm she would never do that. She's unlike anybody i know. She is so strong. She tries so hard to mask her worries. Only that i can see right through her. She's so transparent to me. Whenever i ask why she does that, she says;

"There is only one capable of curing my heart. Only my Lord can rid me of my problems so why relent it to any other".

If she is in so much distress, she cries and after that she prays. At times even while in prayer. Now she's going to resort to the silent treatment. Deciding to give her some space, i walked out of the room. She'll eventually loosen up and talk about it. Later maybe.

Ruqayyah

Watching his retreating back, i cried some more. I don't know why exactly it hurts so much. I mean some months back i was the one incessantly pleading with him to take her back. Now a phone call from her makes me weep. I don't want him to see me as a wailing wailer or one who nags. I trust him. I trust he wouldn't do anything to intentionally hurt me. And that is the problem. He is unintentionally hurting me. I curled up in my bed and cried. I cried for a long time getting myself up only to pray Maghrib and Isha. And plunging right back to my brooding. It was helpless i knew. I flicked off the light and continued to sob in the darkness. I couldn't bring myself to stop. Stupid hormones! He opened the door slightly and peeked in. He did that at least five times before sleep finally overtook me. And every time i shut my eyes and stifle my sob pretending not to have seen him.

The following morning even though i woke up a mess, i managed to take a warm bath before dragging my lazy self to the kitchen to make breakfast. I was by the cooker when he walked in looking beat. Evidence that the man hasn't slept last night. The guilt engulfed me. Putting on my best smile, i greeted him good morning to which he answered and kept mute. His usual cheeriness absent. I kept a plate of chocolate drizzled pancakes before him. He murmured a thank you and concentrated on his breakfast. I stood by the cooker observing him as he played with his breakfast. He seemed lost in thought. He gulped down his coffee and rose from his seat forcing a smile.

Umm...thanks for the delicious breakfast. I'm sorry i can't finish it up. I have to go now. There's this meeting with the board in...(checking his wristwatch) I'm running late.

And he rushed out. I felt terrible. I wiped a stray tear with my thumb. What wife stresses her husband anyway? Not a good one for sure. Allah will not be pleased with me. I had my back to the door as i pat my hands dry with the kitchen towel. Innalillahi! I let out a shriek and my heart almost leapt out of my thorax.