“Sit down, Aisha,” I urged softly. “I made your favorite breakfast.”
She sighed before sitting down across from me, and I yearned to pull her closer to my side. But I knew I had to be slow with her.
The first thing I need to win back is her trust and comfort with me. I don’t want her to walk on eggshells around me all the time.
It’s a pain that we came down to this point, but crying over past wounds won’t do us any good. I need to let go of the past.
I just hope I can convince her to let go too.
The familiar silence fell over the table, and I swallowed the lump in my throat that was stopping me from speaking up.
Breathe, I reminded myself.
“Aisha,” I called her name, and her eyes slowly rose up from the plate to me, and I realized how much I missed having her eyes on me. “I am sorry.”
My words seemed to have caught her off guard as she coughed out loud.
I stood up to pass her a glass of water. She twisted in her seat to look at me as I handed her the glass and knelt down in front of her. Her eyes widened as she gulped down the glass in one go.
“Wha—”
Before she could complete her next words, I took her hands in my own, relishing the feel of touching her once again. I missed her touch, her softness, her everything.
I kissed her hands before pressing them to my forehead, and I noticed how her breath hitched at my actions.
“I am sorry, Aisha,” I said, looking directly in her eyes. “I am so sorry. I haven’t been the best husband, and I recognize that. I am sorry for the way I have been with you for the past year. I am sorry for forgetting how much you matter to me. You always have and always will.”
I looked at her hands again the moment I felt my eyes getting heavy with tears.
“But I promise I will make it up to you. Let me promise you on your birthday that I will fix everything.”
I looked at her, and the pain that flashed on her face pierced through my chest.
I rose up to my feet, bending down slightly to kiss her forehead.
I didn’t wait for her response. Partly because I didn’t think I would get any at the moment.
Partly because I was scared of her rejection.
“Aarav has decided to throw a small party for you at his place,” I told her, stroking her hair and relishing in the fact that she didn’t push me away. “I have some work I need to get done, but I will come back soon. Be ready by 6, and we will go there together.”
She didn’t say anything but nodded, and that movement alone felt mechanical.
I wanted to say I love you, but I couldn’t.
That hurt more than the empty eyes that followed me out.
* * *
“Is everything ready for her birthday?” I ask Aarav, who has been giving me unnecessary attitude ever since he got to know that I forgot his sister-in-law’s birthday. While I love his affection and care for Aisha, it did kind of piss me off a little bit. Jealousy it was.
“Yes,” he says for the umpteenth time. “Did you apologize to her?”
I stop in my steps leading me up to the front door of my house, Aisha’s favorite flowers in my hand. Purple orchids, her favorite kind.
“Yes,” I grumble. “I did. I do love her, you know.”
There’s silence on the other side, and I wonder how much it will take for me to repeat these words and match them in actions to make everyone believe that. At this point I don’t even care if anyone believes it.
