"You should've seen Kulthum's face when I said we were flying business class. She said I should've asked for a larger amount for my mahr."

"Sounds like her," Yusuf chuckled.

"I've always wondered what makes the seats at the front of the plane more expensive than the ones at the back, and I'd be lying if I said I've never wanted to experience one flight," Asiya held up a finger to her lips, "just one flight where my back is facing the curtains instead of my face."

Yusuf swung their hand-held hands as they zoned in on a free table. "Work has its perks."

"Well, I'm grateful that you're using them on us. JazakAllah Khair," Asiya said.

She placed her bag on the table and stayed standing. "What would you like to eat?"

Yusuf touched Asiya's shoulder and gently pushed her into a seat. "I will make you a plate, dear wife. What do you want to eat?"

Asiya smoothed her hands over her dress even though it had no wrinkles. "I don't think I should. People said brides didn't get to eat anything at their events, but I ate a lot at every single one. My stomach feels like a marshmallow."

Yusuf's eyes moved down Asiya's torso, and Asiya's hugged her stomach protectively. "Yusuf!" she hissed.

"I love marshmallows. They're sweet," Yusuf said.

"And puffy and soft," Asiya said.

"Mmm mmm," Yusuf hummed.

Asiya frowned and placed her bag on her lap, hiding away.

Yusuf's smile wilted. "Asiya," he said softly.

"I'll just have fruit, please. Lots and lots of it," Asiya mumbled.

Yusuf nodded and joined the queue.

He returned to their table a few minutes later with a heavy tray.

Yusuf hadn't meant to upset Asiya or make her feel violated. He had been trying to tell her that she was more than fine the way she was.

Asiya picked up her plate. There was a lot of fruit like she had asked for, but Yusuf had also piled mini pastries, vegetarian sausages, and hashbrowns onto it to reinforce his point.

Yusuf's face pulled to the side as he sipped his coffee.

"I'm not a fan of coffee either," Asiya commented.

"I have a love-hate relationship with it. I hate the taste but love the effects," Yusuf said before silently hacking like a cat.

"How much of an effect do you want it to have?" Asiya asked. "There are more cups of coffee on this table than plates of food."

"I'm just trying to wake up," Yusuf fibbed, adding a short fake yawn.

He was already awake. His body was buzzing with adrenaline like an overloaded extension box. He started drinking coffee at Fajr and hadn't stopped since because he wanted to be hyperaware on their flight.

"You haven't flown a lot, have you?" Asiya asked.

Yusuf shook his head.

Flying was foreign to him. He had only been on a plane three times his entire life, and all those journeys happened when his memory was too small to contain many details. "The last time I went on a plane, I was eight. It was with aunt Zulaihat."

"Where did you guys go?"

Yusuf gripped his mug. "Nigeria. For my dad's janazah."

"I'm sorry," Asiya said.

"It's okay. I don't remember much about the journey or the trip, to be honest. Everything happened quickly."

Yusuf's dad had been restless for weeks before he passed. The United Kingdom no longer felt like his home when only two of his forty family members were in it.

He had been desperate for their family to relocate to Nigeria, but Yusuf's mum had refused.

Maybe if she had known their relocation would be temporary, she would've agreed because it didn't matter where one was when they were dying, just who they were with.

Yusuf's dad had wanted his mum.

Yusuf had once heard him crying to her, for her, with the phone pressed over his mouth, like a baby wanting to be suckled.

His dad had been desperate to spend what he didn't know would be the final moments of his life with his mother, so he went to visit her alone.

He died in Nigeria, surrounded by yet selfishly apart from his family.

According to Islamic practice, his death was dealt with quickly. His body had been cleaned and cocooned in white, reflecting his infancy of his last weeks. The janazah had been scheduled for the following day.

"At least you got to see him."

Yusuf shifted as a reminder pinched through him. Pins and needles prickled up the back of his neck, almost like a warning. "That was because of auntie Zulaihat."

Once she heard the news, she arrived at their flat, petted Hannah, stole Yusuf's passport, and bundled him into her arms before rushing them to the airport. Yusuf didn't tell Asiya that part.

"That must've been, sorry, no." Asiya shuffled closer to him and placed her hand on the arm of his chair. "Was it comforting?" she asked.

Yusuf squeezed his lips like he was in pain.

He lifted his mug and hid his face in it.

Everything was disorienting that day. It was like he had been beheaded. His body had been in one time zone while his mind had been in another.

Nothing had made sense that day.

The plane had trickled through the skies as though the pilot knew what awaited its passengers and wanted to delay their pain.

But his aunt had been rushing, behaving like time was moving too fast for Yusuf to ask and for her to tell him what was really happening.

Yusuf had felt scattered, and he hated feeling that way.

"I'm going to get another cup," he said, nudging Asiya's hand off his chair as he stood abruptly.

-       

Asiya danced in her seat as she pointed out all the differences between business class and economy.

Yusuf smiled weakly and tried to match her excitement, but he could feel his body surrendering to anxiety as the air hostesses closed the overhead compartments above them.

Yusuf groped the leather belt around his waist as a tightness grew in his chest.

"Yusuf." Asiya placed her hand on his. "Are you scared of flying?"

Air whistled out of Yusuf's mouth. "I don't fly enough to be scared."

"You don't need to do something to be scared of it," Asiya said as she pried his hands open.

Yusuf's mind kept slipping to scenes of that day when pieces of him had scattered apart when he had thrown himself onto his dad's cold body.

"Yusuf?" Asiya shook his hand.

When more pieces of him had scattered and fallen when strong hands had dragged the wailing young version of him away.

When things were finally making sense, but young Yusuf no longer had all of the pieces to put them together because they had been buried in a ground Allah had promised would, at one point, be everyone's home.

Yusuf pressed his eyelids together and tried to focus on what Asiya was saying, but he felt like a penny trapped in a vacuum.

The air warped. Yusuf's heart was being thrown against the walls of his chest, and Asiya's voice was distorting and merging with that of the air hostesses who were performing the 'just in case' procedure.

Yusuf was usually very good at controlling his mind. He could block things out and compartmentalise.

But Yusuf wasn't able to command his thoughts. He couldn't pick them up, put them down, or filter them out.

His mind was defenceless against his thoughts, and they whizzed around, ambushing him and slicing through his composure.

"Yusuf, hey, hey, hey."

Asiya sounded closer now.

She was closer.

Yusuf could smell her natural perfume and feel her breath against his ear.

"You'll be okay." Her hands encased Yusuf's own.

Asiya started humming softly in his ear.

She's reciting ayatul kursi, Yusuf slowly realised.

He forced himself to focus on Asiya's voice, like it was a light flickering at the top of a dark tunnel.

When Yusuf's chest felt looser, and his mind seemed to have more space to take in other things, he focused on Asiya's smell, which was light and fizzy, like a bottle of pink lemonade. Then, he focused on the pattern of her breath, which felt soothing as it blew against his skin and steady.

By the time Yusuf braved opening his eyes, Asiya had recited verses 285 and 286 of surah Baqarah, the three Quls and a range of other duas.

"We're in the air," Asiya announced. 

Yusuf shifted his body upwards. "Already?"

"We have been for the last ten minutes."

Yusuf cautiously looked over his seat like a baby bird peeping out from its nest.

The clouds looked like deconstructed cotton wool against the light blue sky. Yusuf couldn't spot a single flaw in the landscape; it was as if their plane had been placed in a picture.

'Have they not observed the sky above them, how We designed it and beautified it, and (how) there are no flaws in it

(Surah 50 Verse 6)

Yusuf moved his head up higher. "We have so much space."

"Yet people talk about and treat others like there isn't enough," Asiya said.

Refusing to dwell on a memory, Yusuf lifted their interwoven fingers and focused on kissing Asiya's knuckles.

"I'm sorry," Yusuf said.

"Why are you apologising?" Asiya tilted her head slightly. "I hope you're not apologising over what just happened."

"I shouldn't have done that," Yusuf said.

Asiya stroked Yusuf's hand. "Yusuf, please. It wasn't something you were in control of."

Yusuf wiped the back of his free hand across his forehead, clearing some sweat. "It probably wasn't pretty."

Asiya passed him a tissue. "Feelings aren't always pretty, and that's not a problem. You don't need to apologise for that."

-

Author's Note: I have a love/hate relationship with this chapter 🙃. But I hope you all loved it 🥹. A big thank you & shout out to my silent readers. Seeing your usernames melts my heart 🥹.

Also the first time I drank coffee I over-caffeinated (is that a word?) I literally couldn't stand. I don't know how y'all do it. 🤣.

-

Chapter Glossary

Jazakallah: It means, May Allah reward you with good

Janazah: Funeral prayer. A fact: In Islam, Muslims are buried in white cloth. 3 Parts are used to cover the men. 5 parts are used to cover the women.

Dua: To call out to God. It is an act of worship, prayer.

Mahr: A compulsory gift of the woman's choice given to her by her husband.

Fajr: The prayer Muslims observe before sunrise.

InshAllah: Arabic term. God willing.

Aya-tul- kursi: A dua usually recited for protection.