Our Stormy Ride

*34 °Matters of The Heart

Jamal

The gleam of the rising sun sends tiny bursts of light through the glass wall, brightening up the room and the opened pages of the Quran. Momentarily distracted, I stare at the sky, marvelling at the different shades of colours that overlap one another. Ever since the start of Ramadan, I've taken up the habit of reciting the Quran after fajr until the break of dawn. That brief moment of serenity before the world awakens fully, is like my own time for meditation.

There are days when Nadia stays with me, and others, -like today-, when she goes back to bed immediately she's done praying. Getting off the ground, I do a bit of stretching before returning the Quran to its place on the shelf, then take a peek at the sleeping form on the bed. As usual, her legs are tangled in the sheets and her arms, circled around the pillow in a tight cuddle, my replacement whenever I'm not with her. I chuckle as I head to the en suite bathroom to wash up and prepare for a long day ahead.

Minutes later, I'm shuffling shirts around in the wardrobe to make a pick, when I notice a rectangular box placed at the far corner. I frown a little, wondering  when it had been put there, and for how long. It certainly wasn't there yesterday morning, I think as I reach for it. It's a dark gray, tied with a white ribbon and feels almost weightless in my hands, bearing the name Bertigo in cursive writing. Lifting the lid off the box, I unfold the tissue paper wrap to reveal a pristine, light blue shirt with reversible cuffs, blue buttons and a white collar. A little note flitters to the ground and I smile, aware of who it's from. She must have put it here after I'd gone to bed last night. I pick it up and glance over the words;

“I hope you know how insanely handsome you are in blue”
-N

I can't help but chuckle at her words, trying to contain the elated feeling that's taking hold of me and failing deeply. I tuck the note into my pant pocket, with a promise to find a better place for it, then proceed to finish up with my dressing.

By the time I'm done, Nadia is already awake and sitting propped up against the headboard. Her eyes are slightly puffy from sleep, and those lovely brown curls of hers seem pleased to not being bounded in a bun, as they spill freely down her back and over her shoulders. She grins at me the second I walk into the room, taking in my ensemble. She's about to say something but let's out a sneeze instead.

"I knew I'd get a cold sooner or later," she laments, her voice a little bit hoarse.

I amble over to the bed and sits on its edge, then place a palm gently against her forehead. A sigh escapes my lips upon discovering that she has a slight fever too.

"I took drugs after eating sahur, so I'll be fine. It's just the dust affecting me and I already told you it's normal during this time of the year" She says, doing her best to not get me worried.

She plays with the buttons on my shirt, peering up at me. "So, I guess you like my gift?"

"Love it, plus you said I'm insanely handsome. That's going to be on my mind throughout the day." I lean in to kiss her, but she puts up a pillow between us with lightening speed. I quirk up a brow in a silent question.

"What if you fall sick too?" She asks, her voice muffled by the pillow.

"I'm pretty sure my immune system can handle it, and it sure as hell doesn't stop me from kissing you." I drop a kiss on her forehead instead and pull away. Checking the time on my watch, I remind her, "Faisal is leaving soon remember, you should go get ready."

Her eyes widen a bit as she throws the sheets off, "I almost forgot! Ugh!" She dashes off to the walk-in closet, leaving me in the room.

I notice the canvas she'd gotten from Faisal leaning on the wall beside the vanity, still wrapped up with brown paper. When she'd told me about his request, I couldn't deny her of going. At least this time, she'll get a proper chance of saying goodbye.