The Nearest Heaven ✔️

Part 31 - Moving

Part 31 – Moving

"Be patient, the best ending is for the righteous."

~ Surah Hud, verse 49.

Life is no easy task. There are ups and there are downs which many consider 'a reminder' that they are living. It is symbolic of a beating heart. The good and bad times of life are not meant to be the shadow cast upon life. It is not meant to outweigh the memories of living – of being alive.

For Faraaz, the bad in his life seemed to be a constant toxic air that continued to consume his happiness; like a vacuum draining his good memories. As if on a loop, his mind repeated Fadiyah's broken words, her red-rimmed eyes as it swam with defeat, the way she held onto herself, the way her strength seemed to drain as she spoke. His mind refused to allow himself to forget the lost look on her face and the way she shivered as she revealed everything that she went through.

He let out a desperate sigh, then frowned as Fadiyah tossed beside him, troubled by her nightmares. The blankets were pulled off him as she cocooned herself in them as if they would ward off her bad dreams. From her deepened frowns which looked to be carved into her skin, he knew that even the thickest blanket wouldn't be able to protect her from the stress and pain, the trauma that his sister and Rasheed had put her through. His blood burned ferociously as he replayed the words that Fadiyah had told him about what she had suffered.

To think about how his delicate, soft-hearted, kind wife had to experience such a horrible ordeal. His wife. His queen, the other half of his soul, his life partner. His Fadiyah. His lovely, adorable, obedient wife was the love and light in his life. Lying in bed with the moonlight peeking through the sole gap in the curtains, Faraaz inhaled Fadiyah's heady floral scent. It was calming to his soul, it gave him the peace of mind he needed to not fly into a murderous rage, and instead to use the time to observe his wife, his beautiful wife.

Although they were squeezed shut, he knew her brown eyes constantly looked weary, tired, exhausted and drained. They stared at everything deeply, as if they could no longer trust the world to be fair to Fadiyah. The dark purple half-moons underneath her once gentle brown eyes were the most physical sign of her fatigue and it pained him to see her look drained. Her once silky soft skin was now pale, fragile and not as smooth as before. Littered all over her body was healing purple and yellow bruises, along her ribcage were raised bumps that were slowly healing from the cuts. Her small frame was a canvas of the distressing experience that she lived through.

With a racing heart that hurt seeing her damage painted on her body, Faraaz came to a conclusion. He needed to do something about it. He was her husband, and that was for a reason.

Faraaz had decided to take matters into his own hands. Alhamdullilah, Allah had blessed him with the ability to recover. He had gained sensation and usage of his arms, at long last, Alhamdulillah. Faraaz was grateful, he knew that it had all happened through the will of Allah. Yet, in part, the success was owed to his beautiful wife, had Fadiyah not insisted on his recovery, he would have still been moping about being a quadriplegic.

He was no longer a quadriplegic, he realised. He could learn to be more independent. He would learn to find his feet – quite literally. Faraaz was assured that his nerves still carried sensation, however, only practice would make it possible to be able to walk again without any assistance. He knew that he was still young, he could get his legs to work again perfectly.

Allah was the reason that he was able to heal, to be cured, to be able to gain the ability to move his arms which had once felt like lead glued to his body. Now, he was in control. He was no longer as reliant on his wife, on Jacob and Waqqaar. Alhamdulillah, the usage of his arms meant that he could become independent and self-reliant.