Abbu and Sadeeq came forward, she looked at Abbu's direction and a painful smile graced her lips. She wished she could speak, she would've told him how she missed him and his love. How she lived her life in Qatar feeling lonely and in need of their support. Her eyes didn't make the mistake of looking at Sadeeq's way, because she had nothing to do with him, and had nothing to see on his face.
She turned her eyes back to Daada. He spoke, "Ihsan, how are you feeling? Should we call the doctor?"
She shook her head sideways, searching for the might in her to speak but couldn't. So this is how life is, in a minute you're all healthy and happy, the next you can't even move a limb to start with. She could remember where she was at this time yesterday, they were together with Dr. Aashif, having the best moment of their lives, but in less than 24 hours, she couldn't even speak to start with.
The doctor whom Sadeeq called came in, he examined her body and asked her some questions, which she answered with pantomime. He told them it would take her almost to 48 hours before her verbal system would be back. And that saddened Daada more than he was already.
"Daada you need to go and rest, I'll look after her." Sadeeq spoke and looked at both his parents, feeling guiltier than he was already.
"Yes we should, we have seen how she's coping, Alhamdulillah. Our Ihsan is so strong Masha Allah." Abbu said and pinched both her cheeks, flashing her a painful and encouraging smile, she smiled back, ruefully.
"I want to hear her speak. We're leaving tomorrow to Kuwait, I have a meeting to attend and you have something to examine there, Alhaji. It's the last moment we have with her until they come back home." Daada moved to his hand luggage and brought out a memo and a pen. It happened some time in the past, she was so weak to speak that he had to write something, show it to her, and she would nod to show him it was what she meant.
He scribbled some words on the paper and showed it to her, it read 'Are you feeling much better?' She nodded her head with a smile, her tears falling down vertically.
He smiled and wrote again 'You missed me right?' She didn't know she had been nodding her head and was crying hysterically, even though without a sound; until Daada hugged her tight and she felt her tears threatening to choke her, because she couldn't scream to vent it out.
Abbu slowly broke their hug and he patted Daada's shoulder, "It's okay, she will be fine insha Allah. Before we know it she'll be back on her two feet. Let's keep praying for her." It took minutes before Abbu finally consoled Daada and they stood to leave, the first flight to Kuwait would be hard to catch when someone is jetlagged as they are.
They asked Sadeeq to stay with her and they had a cab waiting for them outside the hospital. The moment the door behind Daada and Abbu shut, Ihsan clasped her eyes shut and made herself looked like something deep into a slumber.
Sadeeq was rooted to his spot, he knew she didn't want to see his face, and she was not ready to forgive him anytime soon. It wasn't his fault that she had fell sick, it was decreed and a nature of her too. But it worsened because he neglected her, and he knew Ihsan would never forgive him.
He staggered to the bed, afraid to take the next step when his leg fell on the ground. He was afraid of what to say to her, even though she couldn't respond, he was still afraid. Not the kind of fear he had for her insults and names, not the one he had for her tantrums and cooked up stories she reported to Ummu, this was freshly baked fear from what he did. A dish he cooked himself.
He sat silently on the chair beside her bed and resisted the urge to take a hold of her frail hand, to slid his fingers into her tiny ones. To let his warmth seep into her soul through the pores of her hand. To caress her heartbroken soul with just a brush of his thumb on her wrist line.
"Vardah," he called softly and smiled at himself. He knew she wouldn't answer him even if they were on good terms because she didn't know of the name. And he was sure if she had her phone with her, her frail hands would've been tapping her search bar for the meaning of Vardah.
"Do you know what that means? I'm sure you're curious right? You want to know. It means Rose, a very beautiful rose that captivates the eyes of the humans. You're a rose Ihsan, the kind of rose that all of its petals have different colours on it. May be a red petal, white, blue, orange, green and yellow petals all joined on a single rose. The thorns would be there, because you too, are fierce and painful sometimes, Vardah."
Ihsan had turned and she had her eyes fixed at him, he could see the curiosity that's eating her up, she wasn't a fan of flowers; she didn't know a blue or even a yellow rose existed. He smiled at her, and a tear rolled down his cheeks. He wiped at the tears and began talking.
"You want to know right? What all those colours represent. A red rose reflects love and passion, it's perfect to give to your spouse. You're my wife, you ought to have a red petal, Vardah. Pink rose symbolizes attitudes like kindness and openness, and you are, kind and open like the calming sky with vastness that fills the world. Orange rose reflects success and joy, you'll surely be successful and joy is surely created for you. Blue rose stands for joy and harmony, perfect to create an atmosphere of peace. Peace, we need it a lot. Yellow rose is a symbol of friendship and innocence, you can be forming all fierce and hard to break, but you're too innocent, Ihsan. And I'd love to have a friend in you. White rose symbolizes purity and perpetuity, perfect to use in weddings. We're already married, but I hope everyday would be as happy as a loving couple wedding day would. And then a green rose, it stands for hope and the balance between mind and body. It's perfect for new relationships. Vardah, can we start over?"
He wasn't having all these feelings because he wanted her to forgive, no, it's because he knew what losing her would make of him. He almost lost his mind hours ago, because he thought he would lose her. Her eyes were still fixed on him, and she didn't seemed hazed by his enshrouded confession, she was just looking. Directly and intensely at him. As if she was having a scrutiny of his soul and heart, to search for the sincerity of his words.
Ihsan couldn't believe what she heard, like this boy, the one she was married to, had given her a nickname that was able to melt even the most solidified object on earth. He named her Vardah, a rose. And she wasn't a rose anyone could find in his or her garden, she was a combination of different alluring petals and that made her a unique rose in the entire universe.
She wanted to smile so wide until her cheeks reached her ears, but she couldn't. As she bored her eyes into him, all she saw was the perfect picture of her king, the one she had been secretly calling her Yardan. She knew he wasn't related to anything royalty, but whenever she saw him, she had secretly admired his aura, he looked like a king, spoke like one, walked with a gait of a king, laughed like a king did, and she named him that; someday she wrote it in her diary. The picture of her Yardan, hugged by his brown haired ogle in the heart of her living room, and his hands she liked; slowly caressing her brown hair as he whispered some soothing words to her.
She took off the picture in her heart, not that it didn't hurt, but because she had made a decision of not dwelling into that painful memory. She was never going back to Sadeeq, they made an agreement right? Then so be it. She had Aashif, even if she wasn't sure he loved her, but she was sure he would take care of her and console her whenever she's down, sad and heartbroken. Not someone like her Yardan, who would utter heart annihilating words to her and leave her to the cold demons of Qatar, with no one to cry to, and no shoulder to lean onto.
She flashed him a look and turned her face to the other side of the room, she was done with him for good.