The Husband Checklist

4. finding hope

Aaminah knew what had happened. In spite of that, she greeted me with a cheerful "Assalamualaikum" and led me to her bedroom. My books were still on her bed from our sleepover two days ago. It didn't surprise me that Aaminah had been sleeping on the floor. She was a quirky soul, and more often than not, fell asleep while absorbed in her world of art. Pastels and paint palettes littered the wooden floorboards, but amidst the chaos, I could see the beauty emerging, in the form of a stunning landscape depiction on canvas.

"Babeeee," she cooed. I rolled my eyes. I was feeling better already. "Okay, so tell me all the deets. Actually, don't. I know already. So basically you and Yusuf are over? Like o-v-eee-r?"

"Yeah, pretty much. God, he was so handsome though. I can't believe I let that go," I replied

"Me too. I mean, to heck with that idiot. You deserve better. Still, I get you. Everyone was obsessed with his looks."

"Urghhh, his hair. It was so soft and brown and like, perfect. And his smile was absolute Colgate model material. Let's not forget those eyyyyesss."

"Greener than the grass on the other side," we said in unison, then exploded into giggles.

"Don't you dare get back with him, though, missy," she said sternly.

I sighed. This was going to be a difficult road. As much as I hated him for leaking those pictures, I couldn't help but recall the numerous calls at night where he'd sing me to sleep, or the morning messages. I couldn't move past those dates when he'd buy me ice cream and we'd sit on the fire escape steps in the mall where no one could see us, absorbed in each other's eyes and smiles. I couldn't forget the promise ring he'd slipped onto my finger on our first anniversary. I didn't want to forget the time he took me home and let me cry for hours about how much it hurt to feel so inadequate, and then squeezed my hand and told me he'd make the pain go away someday. He promised to steal my pain like he'd stolen my heart. He wanted to bear my sorrow because me being happy meant more to him than his own happiness.

He'd said that he loved me every single day. While I reminisced over those beautiful memories, I knew that I was avoiding the darker, more painful encounters.

He wasn't perfect, but I couldn't move past how perfect we would be if we had each other.