“So fight for it. Don’t let it go because of this.” She taps my head. “When it comes to love, you should use your heart.”
“What if he doesn’t want that anymore?”
“Honey, if there’s one person he has wanted, it’s you. It will always be you for him.”
Reyansh Carter
Every cell in my body itches to be closer to Aisha. When she asked for space, I had to force myself to run after her. Because that’s what I always do. I chase her.
But lately I have observed that the more I chase, the farther she goes away from me. So, for the first time, I forced myself to not do anything. I forced myself to stay back and let her vent in the way she wanted to.
Sometimes giving space is the best thing you can do in a relationship.
So, I lie in bed right now, knowing she is outside having a chit-chat with my mom. I know my mother has a comforting angle with Aisha, which I am so grateful for because despite the bond thatMaaand Aisha share, there are things she is more open about with Mom, and I am glad she was able to find that. Knowing the things that she has been through, there’s a kind of comfort I always yearned to provide but was never able to because, despite growing up with parents who had decided to separate, I couldn’t even remotely relate to the things that she had been through.
I close my eyes tight when I hear the bedroom door open. Her scent reaches me before she does, and I shiver slightly when her cold hand touches my jaw. She lightly traces my stubble, and I feel my heart race as if it is the first time she is touching me.
“I am sorry, Rey,” she says, and for the second time, I feel my eyes well up. I know she feels guilty about what she said earlier, but I know she wasn’t wrong. If we ever got divorced, it would be because the loveweboth felt pride in failed us both.
I hold her hand and pull her towards me, and she lets out a quiet yelp as she falls over me.
“Don’t be sorry to your husband, Aisha,” I say quietly, and even in the dark I can sense the effect this must have had on her. Even after six years of our relationship, she isn’t immune to my touch and my words, and then she thinks she can fool me by saying that she is not in love. “It is my job to be sorry.”
“So you will keep doing things that you need to apologize for?” she counters, and I laugh.
She covers my mouth with her hand, and I push myself upwards and touch my lips with hers with her hand in between.
Her eyes bulge out, and I chuckle, pulling away from her.
I push her back and lay her down on the bed; with my face resting on the palm of my hand, I hover over her.
“Are you okay?” I ask the most important question of the hour.
She nods, and while I don’t believe it truly, I let it pass.
“I think I spoke too much, but I was just overwhelmed and overstimulated,” she says, and I let her talk. “Do you think what I said was wrong?”
“Not at all,” I say. “Maahad it coming, and with everything that is going on with you, I don’t think you overreacted. I understand the pain and the disappointment you have been through in life. I hate that even I have played a little part in it. If anything, I am proud of you. It takes guts to speak up to your family, and I loved that you finally spoke your heart.”
“Was she mad after I left?”
My heart grows warm for her. Her ability to still care for people, even after they have hurt her and disappointed her,makes me so proud of being called her husband. My petty self could never, but the empathy she carries within herself is admirable.
“She wasn’t. She was hurt, yes. And I slightly overheard Mom give her an earful. But it was necessary, so don’t hold yourself guilty for it. EvenMaaknew this was coming.”
“What if she goes back? What if she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore?”
“Aisha,” I say, a little more stern this time. “She will talk to you. Do you think your mother can stay quiet in your presence? Either she will rage bait you or you will rage bait her, and then you guys will start talking.”
She rolls her eyes even when she knows what I am saying is just pure facts.
“And about her going back, you have to understand that while you guys’ lives are interconnected, you both have separate lives. She will go back eventually. She can’t stay here, you know that. London air doesn’t suit her; am I right?”
She chuckles because this is exactly whatMaasays whenever we ask her to stay with us. The truth is, she loves her life back home. She loves living with her siblings, and even if it boils Aisha’s blood, this is the kind of thing she has had to accept.
“And…” she starts, stopping mid-sentence.
“And?” I ask, brushing her hair out of her face even though it wasn’t troubling her. Truth be told, I love touching her. My hands constantly itch to be around her, to touch her, even if slightly. It calms my heart and my mind. The kind of peace you could never get with meditation even.
