Too many 'IFS’
T

oo many 'WHENS’

Too many 'SORRYS’
And 'NEVER AGAINS’
Too many 'PROMISES’
Too many 'LIES’
Far too many 'ONE MORE TRIES’
How many were there,
Before I knew
That 'ACTIONS’ speak louder
Than 'PROMISES’ do?

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀
My journey to hell and back began after I met him.
*******************************

It's four am in the morning. I am currently in the kitchen.
The kettle has been whistling for more than thirty minutes now. I am sure the gas will run low before the month ends and that will give him something to yell at for.
My eyelids are heavy, signalling for me to sleep. I have been dozing since I left the bedroom an hour ago.

"Oh well," I mutter, "I better make him his coffee before he wakes up."

I trudge to the gas cooker, remove the kettle from the cooker and place it on the kitchen island. I place a frying pan on the cooker, pouring oil on it, making sure nothing spills.
He doesn't like things being wasted. Things he buys with his money.

As I whisk two eggs, I add pepper and seasoning to it. I also add some chopped onions. I can hear shuffling from up stairs.
Typical Fawaaz!
I better hurry up. I don't want to be yelled out this morning.

I quickly remove the fried egg, carefully placing it on a flat plate. I place two hot dog rolls on the pan to fry too.

After arranging his breakfast on the dining table, I decide to call him.
Fawaaz likes everything to be orderly.
As I climb up the stairs, I glance at the wall clock and see it's past five. I am very tired. I hope I can get some sleep before I leave for work.

I get to our bedroom and open the door. I step in, making sure to shut the door quietly. I really don't like noise. Fawaaz is standing in front of my dresser mirror putting on his tie. I immediately make my way to him and began to help him fix it.

"Assalam alaykum," I greet him.

"Walaykum salam," he grunts.

"Breakfast is ready and served," I give the tie a last patting.

He simply hummed in reply. I ignore him and walk to our soft comfortable bed. I remove my blue fluffy slippers and sit on the bed. I want to sleep but I can't knowing that my husband will frown at me.
So I wait patiently for him to leave like the sweet wife that I am.

After what seems like ages, he is done preparing for work and he comes closer to me. I look up and smile at him. He smiles back and places a kiss on my forehead. In return I embrace him, taking my time to breath in the sweet smell of his cologne.

"Alright, that is enough. I don't want to be late for work," he tells me.

"Be safe. May Allah protect you and bring you home in sound health," I pray.

"Ameen," he answers, "Do something about your hair. It's getting rough."

I remain silent. I watch him go downstairs, to eat his breakfast and leave.

I am very tired. I need to sleep. I couldn't believe Fawaaz when he said my hair was rough. I mean I braided my hair three days ago.

I simply push him away from my thoughts.

"Bismillahi Rahmani Raheem(In the name of Allah The Most Beneficent The Most Merciful)," I utter as I lay down. Sleep steals me away immediately.

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Assalam alaykum waramatullahu wabarakatu.
Hello to you all.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter.