Turmoils- A Muslim Love Story

Chapter 22

Ayesha's PoV

I looked at the casserole Fatima had made and smiled at her.

"This looks really good!" I said, pulling two thumbs up.

It was lunch time and the two of us were alone at home. Farhan and Ayan had gone to work, as per usual and Humaira and her husband were already gone, as we already know.

I had tried to stop her from going into the kitchen so soon but she'd insisted that two months were not "that early". So I let her make our lunch today as the maid cleaned the rest of the house.

"Go on bhabi, try it," she urged.

I nodded and put some on my plate and then some on hers. I took a bite and it felt like heaven in my mouth.

"You really have a knack for making good dishes," I told her before eating some more.

She blushed before telling me how she learned to cook like that. Our days were mostly spent this way, in a typical Pakistani way.

We either sat around talking, getting chores done or went out together to shop. We'd visit cafés and parks and restaurants. The four of us, husbands included, hadn't gone out together yet because Farhan and Ayan needed to catch upto the work they'd lost at the office.

The entire day went by in a blur like that. The two of us played a bit of ludo here and there and then I went to make sure all the work had been done properly.

My eyelids felt heavy when I finally reached my room. Ayan was back already but Farhan wasn't. He had some sort of thing to look after. Disinterested, I flopped down on the bed and closed my eyes.

Just for five minutes. I'll wake up as soon as Farhan walks through that door.

That's what I thought of course. I was out cold a few seconds later.

My eyes snapped open. It was dark and I was no longer hanging off the side of the bed. Instead, I was tucked in under the duvet. I quickly sat up with a jolt, causing me to feel dizzy.

I really must stop doing that.

As soon as I could see into the dark, I felt someone sleeping beside me, across the pillow wall. I turned to look and sure enough, Farhan was sleeping.

I leaned closer until my eyes could make out the features of his handsome face. I propped my head on my elbow and continued looking at him.

His form moved up and down as he breathed in and out.

I couldn't believe this man was my husband. Probably the way things were but it wouldn't harm us to be friends right?

Even though I shouldn't think of it that way, even though I shouldn't be so forgiving since he has always downtrodden on my respect and esteem, I couldn't help but let go of all that.

He'd changed and I've never been one to carry a grudge lifelong.

I felt proud as I thought of how I was the reason he found his way back to praying. Found his way back to God. Since the past two months, he's been praying 5 times.

Even Fajr.

As I recounted the good changes in him, my heart pounded as I remembered how one thing never changed.

His relationship with Zara.

He kept in contact, that's what I knew for sure. I felt my eyes get a little blurry as I laid on my back and stared up at the ceiling.

No good was going to come out of my feelings for him. Not any I could see. But I wanted to keep him as a friend. A friend I could remember as a fond memory after I leave.