OBLIVIOUS REDEMPTION

CHAPTER 39: Worlds Apart

~Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it's having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome. Vulnerability is not weakness; it's our greatest measure of courage~

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Yasmeen:

Time was passing like a hand waving from a train I wanted to be on. And just like that, Ahmad started to estrange me. We became strangers who knew each other's hearts, So broken as they drifted apart.

Ahmad is unhappy and drowning in the routine of his existence and I'm drowning along side him. He is so distant as we both struggle with our feeling of fear, anger, and frequently, misunderstanding

There is an ocean of silence between us and I am drowning in it. I miss him, and that's the worst way to miss somebody, When they're right beside you and you miss them anyway.

He left me lonely, and he knows too well the sting of loneliness and how over time it stole you away, piece by piece, until a mere shell remained

It's crazy, the things you do when you're broken up with by your husband, I almost stepped in front of a speeding car the other day just so he'd look at me

I longed to be wrapped in his arms again, pour my troubles, make everything feel okay, even if it wasn't

I always go through our chats and pictures remembering the good old days. I travel back in time, falling back into what I know for certain, the historical data I cling to in order to not go mad, not assume I made a suicidal and well-informed error in marrying Ahmad.

I started to notice so many changes in him, he has become too conscious of his looks and his smell. He's always on his phone even when he's in the bathroom. He also changed all his passwords, we knew each others passwords but not anymore.

So many events and moments that seemed insignificant begin to add up.

I remember how for the last time we went out, he was so uneasy. He looked off into the middle distance while my hand would creep across to hold his. He would always let go first. I realize I can't remember his last spontaneous gesture of affection, I can't even remember seeing him around.

Soon he was online every night until two or three a.m, Often he would wake up at four or five a.m and go back online. He would lock his phone screen or shut down the computer screen when I walk in. In the past, he used to take the laptop to bed with him and we would both be on our laptops, hips touching. He stopped doing that, he started slipping off to the living room instead and closing the door even when I was asleep. He started closing doors behind him, And finally, he started working late.

If I ask why he had become so distant, bitter, resentful and depressed, he always comes up with different excuses.

I often ask myself, what am I doing wrong?

Maybe I'm just not sending out the right vibe lately. Perhaps the fact that I wear sweatpants and tank tops is holding him back.

So I switched to the intelligent-slut-for-hire outfits that lure men and lingeries that are appealing to any mans eyes except Ahmad. He didn't even notice, all my effort was in vain.

Or maybe the problem is not the outfit, it's just the person wearing it.

It's like I'm not even trying and yet somehow I still try too hard.

I became an object of mockery and a laughing stock to Ahmad and his family. The more I try to please him, the more I fail and the more miserable I become.

My life has become a devine comedy, a tale told by an idiot, a sadistic idiot.

I was walking on broken glass and sooner or later, I know that the ceiling over my head would crash and when it does, nothing would save my doomed marriage.

Ahmad's voice brought me out of my trance, but I wish it didn't because the look on his face tells me he's going to say something terrible.

"I am not happy. This life I am living, is not what I dreamt of" He said, looking into my eyes

"If you're unhappy, how will you be able to make me happy?" I asked, teasingly

"Are you waiting for me to make you happy?" He asked, with creased eyebrows.

"Yes, why wouldn't I expect you to make me happy? I thought we are in love and we married for love. I believe that Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own" I told him

"Don't rely on me to make you happy, don't tie your happiness with me. Because if you do, you would be disappointed, I will never be able to make you happy. Seek your happiness elsewhere or within yourself" he said, with a straight face

I was seeped in denial, I didn't want to believe what is happening to me right now is real.

Denial has rented a room in my head and frequently stomps around slamming doors. It's the only thing that keeps me from losing my sanity.

"But happiness is only real when shared" I protested

"If you're waiting for me to make you happy, you'll be waiting a very long time, probably the rest of your life" he told me

Still in denial, I ignored the point Ahmad was trying to make.

I quickly sat beside him, I held him close enough to kiss, close enough to whisper the most important secrets in the world, love poems, and the most comforting words to his ears. I spoke to him so lovingly as he would have wanted some good angel to speak to him and to his own shivering, young, confused, lost soul.

"Don't you love me anymore?" I asked, as I gently massaged his shoulders affectionately

But he shouted and quickly moved away, looking as if my touch was like a burn to his skin

"Don't touch me, it's irritating. Do you think you can seduce me? It won't work, how pathetic of you to even try" he said

"I'm not trying to seduce you, I'm just a caring wife. And I'm worried about you" I said

"Don't ever seat near me again, that is your seat from now on" he said, pointing at the couch on the opposite direction

"Why?" I asked, confused

"Because I don't want you near me, you're suffocating me. I need space, I need peace, I need to breathe" he said, with is eyes full of contempt

"Alright" I said, With a defeated nod

And I was sure In that moment, He felt nothing but his growing hatred towards me

I moved away from him slowly, I sat as far away as possible from him

This is how it is with travel, one city gives you gifts, another robs you. One gives you the heart's affections, the other destroys your soul. Cities and countries are as alive and feeling, as fickle and uncertain as people. Their degrees of love and devotion are as varying as with any human relation. Just as one is good, another is bad. I thought

Thus with my lips have I denounced him, while my heart, bleeding within me, called him tender names.

It was love lashed by its own self that spoke. It was pride half slain that fluttered in the dust. It was my hunger for his love that raged from the housetop, while my own love, kneeling in silence, prayed for his forgiveness.

Looking on the bright side, At least we've had a verbal interaction today, which was odd. For I have already gotten used to being invisible.

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