5th December, 2018

So making peace with the loud storms had been the only choice.

Every year, they were to remind each other about the known date. 21st of November. That date had been the first time the eight year-olds, Taraa and Malak had started to learn skating roller blades. It was a memorable moment as the number of times they had tripped or fallen until they finally got the hang of it. With time and age they eventually stopped skating together which lead them to come a decision that every year, once in a blue moon they would skate together on the specific date just to keep memory alive.

That had been the story. But now, Malak regretted the whole idea of skating and hated the person who invented roller blades. Taking off hers, she rushed to her dear unconscious friend. "Taraa, did you die already?!" Her eyes watered as she said.

"What happened?" Aunt Esta asked alarmed.

Malak didn't know how to respond to her as she was in a shock. "I killed her, didn't I?"

"Keep quiet, she's fine . . just lost her head for a while!" Aunt Esta scolded her.

Dramatic.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Malak yelled out sniffing!

"Means, she's unconscious, you idiot!" Aunt Esta yelled back. "Now call an Ambulance!"

Malak immediately did as she was told, "They are on the way."

"Fine get me th-" Before Aunt Esta could have completed, in walked in her dear older brother causing Malak to receive another mini heart attack.

Malak knew she was so dead. The Adel family would eat her alive including Ameen.

"What's going on?" He voiced eyeing at his unconscious daughter.

"She just tripped and lost her consciousness." Esta politely answered but soon cringed when Adel glanced at the pairs of roller blades.

Adel glanced around the empty hall and nodded, "The Ambulance on the way?"

"Yes." Esta said.

"We'll be going at Ameen's!"

° ° °

She furrowed her brows, squeezing her eyes open, she tried getting up.

"Easy there, easy . . ." She couldn't exactly recognize the familiar voice but flinched when said voice's hand patted her shoulders.

Her head shot up to the person and upon witnessing the person's presence she had no choice but to threw up. Ameen and the nurse was by her side, the former holding back her hair and the latter brought her the tray.

Oh, she was in the hospital, in the ward. But why was she here in the first place? Did something bad happen?

"You are going to be alright, just relax and try not to get all worked up okay?" Ameen's reassurance was numb to her ears as she tried recalling what happened.

"Ameen, what happened?" She asked, feeling nauseous, the saline they injected in her may had overwhelmed her appetite.

"Malak said you tripped . . . I don't know I was here when they brought you here."

Taraa nodded, absorbing all the possible information when suddenly she remembered. The anesthesia still hadn't worn off her system.

"So, how is the leg? How is my patient doing?" She let out a bored sigh when the doctor came in.

"Doctor Mohammad, good to see you!" She greeted Ameen and they exchanged a few words before moving on to Taraa.

"I'm feeling fine, just hungry! Like hungry, hungry!" Taraa muttered, removing the cover off of her and she stood up to gather her things.

But when she took a step, the raw pain surged in her knee that she bit back her cheeks and tried to conceal her pain.

"So, how's the leg again?" The doctor asked, pressing her lips.

She glanced at Ameen who wore a concerned frown.

"It will heal, Insha Allah!" Taraa was surprised at her own words, wondering since when she had become so positive? "I hate hospitals and I need to get out of here."

"Yes okay, I will just write down a few antibiotics then you are free to go." With that, the doctor left and Ameen followed.

Her mind came back to the person she had been ignoring the whole time, but now that they were left alone in the same room, it was hard to just even look at him but saving her life the drama she finally glanced at him.

"How are you?" That was the first thing he asked her.

"Breathing, living in a human body! I'm doing more than great. Thanks!" She wasn't being sarcastic or rude, but rather polite and obvious, her voice did sound of gratitude.

"My rose, my beautiful rose . . ." He began walking toward her then. "I know when the eyes are deceiving, I know when the heart dies out of exhaustion."

Taraa internally sighed, she always grew nervous around him when he's all down to earth, guilty, in between the phases of realisation. His philosophy had the power to soften her heart.

"Dad, I'm really tired. My leg hurts and I don't want to feel guilty for another argument." Taraa protested as Adel settled his hands on her shoulders.

"Come, sit!"

Taraa wanted to swear, rolling her eyes internally.

"Tell me about your marriage?" He then carefully asked being concerned.

He's got to be kidding her.

"Dad . . . please . . ." Sighing, she gave up and then said, "It's been almost two months and we are still getting to know each other, I guess . . so it's fine, Alhamdulillah."

"I hope you are not holding yourself back against him." Her father muttered, not meeting her gaze. "Listen, Ameen is a good man . . . let him see the galleries of art your heart holds. Don't be frightened of the interruptions caused by the world."

"If only my heart was in one piece to offer it someone . . not sure what it holds anymore!" She shook her head, her eyes glistening.

Adel let out a mocked chuckle, disagreeing with her. He placed his hand over hers which was on her chest, "I know very well what lies underneath this. I know what it holds . . . it holds love . . more than enough for the whole world."

Taraa couldn't hold back her tears anymore, she had to break down in front of her father.

° ° °

From the other side of the room, Ameen stiffened upon hearing his father-in-law's words. He was awed by all what he had told Taraa. He closed his eyes, feeling the guilt working up in his bones for betraying his wife with their lives by lies and effective, dangerous secrets.

He was alarmed when he heard Taraa yelp in pain. Rushing inside he was then by her side when she sat on the chair beside.

"Are you okay?" He waited for Taraa's answer when Adel asked.

"No, I felt my knee twist as I stood up. I think something's wrong." She looked at Ameen, her face was scrunched up in pain.

Ameen nodded, "You should get the Radiography done then." He paused for a brief moment before saying, "Now . . can you walk or should I get help?"

She immediately shook her head, "I can, I guess!"

"Ok, come . . ." Ameen held out his hand for her.

It almost felt weird or awkward to hold her husband's hand in front of her father's presence, yet ignoring her thoughts she hesitantly grasped his hand, cringing in pain her knee served.

"You can leave for home, dad. This might take some time . . and don't worry Ameen's here." She reassured, forcing out a smile.

Adel only nodded, "Take care both of you."

° ° °

After the scan, she waited outside the Radiology room for Ameen. She was disgusted by everything, weirded out by the conversation she shared with her father, bored by this place she had been in for too long.

This world's full of maniacs.

Her attention was brought back to Ameen's and the nurse's constant chattering. She looked away, tired and bored, she wanted to go to bed, sleep under her thick blankets and forget the world for a while.

That sounded like a dream she'd never reach.

"The report's will be out tomorrow or the day after . . ." She mistakenly heard the nurse saying to Ameen.

After their little chat about stuff she wished she never understood, Ameen finally turned toward her. "Been a long, long day for me! What about you?"

Taraa shot her eyes at him, "I feel like I'm dying. Hate that I had to be in the same hospital as yours."

Ameen chuckled, already amused by her attitude.

"So, you fell roller skating?" Ameen quietly asked.

"Yeah . . not exactly but it weren't the blades altogether. I guess I way over the moon by being able to relive a memory with my friend. I was totally blinded . . " She then realised.

"You are crazy, I swear!" Ameen commented and Taraa just shrugged.

"Of course I'd be, I live in a crazy world!"

"Um . . . let's go home?" Ameen nervously asked for some weird reason.

Taraa carefully stood up, taking Ameen's support by pushing all her weight down on Ameen's hand. "I prefer going to galaxies we think that don't exist."

She was quiet for a moment, staring ahead with a strange expression while a crazy wish swirled in her mind. "Ameen?"

"Yes?"

"Do I have to walk all the way down to the lobby and then to the parking lot and then find the car in the designated bay and then finally to the car?" She sighed dramatically, taking him aback.

"Um, yes! Why?"

"I can't . . my knee . . . I'm tired . . . and I wanna be held!" She frowned in request as Ameen was surprised by her moody tone.

Whoa!

"O-okay, I wouldn't m-mind-d . . .!"

Taraa grinned and sighed in relief when Ameen scooped her in his arms.
The night was long and she secretly prayed that she'd be in his arms longer than it.

° ° °

"Taraa?" Ameen walked into the room with a frown.

She muttered a 'yes' whilst writing back a mail.

"I have bad news."

Taraa whipped her head towards him and said, "What happened?"

"Your reports finally came out . . " Ameen began.

"And?"

Ameen shook his head and pressed his lips, "It's not good!"

Taraa rolled her eyes, "What, did twisting my knee caused some kind of cancer now?" She huffed in sarcasm and walked over to him, taking the files from his hand she opened them. Scanning through the pages, the only thing that caught her eyes was 'Anterior cruciate ligament injury'.

She looked up at him, "So, I need the surgery?"

She couldn't believe this!

Ameen apologetically nodded.

Allah, Allah!

"Like necessary?" She whined.

"Did you just whine?"

Tara tsked in a reproving manner, "Stop changing the subject!"

"Sorry, but it's better if you do it. You are young and if you don't do it now, later it would become worse."

"How long is the surgery for?" She inquired further.

"An hour and half, maybe less!"

"Can I just die?"

"I don't know, ask God!" Ameen simply shrugged and Taraa shot him a look.

"Why what's wrong?" Ameen slowly asked, leaning on the door frame.

"I'm not sure about this surgery . . "

"Because?" Ameen prompted.

"Because I am not in a mood." She said, scrunching her brows.

° ° °

"I wish I'd gone to another hospital." Taraa muttered, offending her husband.

"Why would you wish for that?"

"I don't want to do this in the same hospital you work at." She earnestly replied.

"And why is that?" Ameen asked annoyed.

"No relevant reason."

They waited for the specialist for some more time and then entered in the consulting room. Within a glance, Taraa didn't like the aura of the room and she wished she could go somewhere and cry her heart out.

And the consultant sitting in front of the desk gave her the creeps she feared of. Internally scowling and sighing, they greeted and what made her cringe were the colours of the room. Plain white, cream, dull beige and she was disgusted. Her thoughts took another turn in how the colours surrounded demotivated and saddened her.

"Taraa?" Ameen's voice snapped her back.

"Yes?" She whipped her towards him.

Ameen shot her a reproving look. "She's asking you something." He then gestured toward the doctor.

Taraa looked at the doctor and said, "Yeah?"

And then the conversation went on, Taraa wished she had never skated in the first place.

"I'm so bored, I need a jar of orange juice." She demanded as they exited the hospital.

"The surgery is in a week, and I don't like your surgeon!" Ameen sighed, starting the ignition.

"Why? Who's the surgeon?"

"He's Parker's minion, they used to work together . . ." Ameen trailed off with a scowl.

"Not my problem, it's not like he'd intentionally do something wrong to me during the surgery just because I am your wife." Taraa shrugged.

"Yeah, but it's mine. The problem is with me, not you!" Ameen exclaimed.

"Umm . . . actually, the real problem is with me, my leg!" Taraa stated, earning a glare from him.

"You know very well that I am not talking about the obvious here!" He gritted his teeth, causing her to chuckle.

"You look hot when you are annoyed or angry!" Taraa froze at her words, cringed at them when the person beside her was highly taken aback upon the awkwardness.

"Whoa! I mean, it's a joke! Hey . . . let's go to your mom's place tonight . . . we have a lot to tell her anyway!" She then stammered and had managed to change the subject.

Ameen only nodded, wondering what was going on in her head and he didn't dare let out that secret smile that teased down his heart.

° ° °

She narrated everything to her mother-in-law, although Sara was very weirded out by how she had fallen.

"Seriously? What was wrong with you? Who on earth skates inside the house?" Sara scolded, "Hey Ameen, I gave you one person to take care of, not four! Where were you when your wife had lost her mind?!"

Ameen paused, munching up the rest of the garlic bread, he looked at his mother, frowning he just shrugged, "Um, work!"

"Please . . not the same carp again! Don't you dare use work as an excuse! If it weren't because of me, you wouldn't even know what a brain was!" His mom yelled

Ameen huffed in annoyance, "Mom please, can we not? Dad, mom's making a big deal out of this. And it's not like she's dead . . . dying or something, she's fine and this injury is very common, like a trend!"

"Dead? Did you just take this to a next level? Let me teac-"

"Dear, mother-in-law! Don't blame him for something he didn't have any part in, he didn't know, he couldn't have. I was at my place. It's okay, it's nothing serious." Taraa assured, indicating her to calm down.

"You are defending him while I'm supporting you? How could you? But know this, I have raised him well, taught him well and he failed me while I succeeded him. Keep in mind boy!" Her tone was angry and cold.

Taraa shrugged, bored and annoyed by her mother-in-law. This whole conversation depressed her and she didn't know how to escape without being disrespectful.

"Sara, please! Relax, let's just pray that everything goes smooth and well." Ahmed, her father-in-law firmly stated.

"Is it a crime to worry?" Sara then reproved, looking at Taraa. She finally said, "You were in safe hands when you were under my roof and care. Things went wrong the moment you shifted under his. I think you should stay with us?"

Ameen hesitated, "What? . . . No! I don't think tha-"

Taraa cut him off, "I'd love nothing more."

° ° °

"Taraa, you can't be serious!" Ameen shut the door behind him, completely baffled and defensive. "Why would you want to stay here?"

"Why wouldn't you want to stay here?" Taraa muttered, removing her headscarf.

"I have reasons." Ameen said, pressing his lips.

"Then so do I!" Taraa yelped. "So, we are even now."

"What reasons?" He exclaimed.

"I like your family, they are nice!"

Ameen shook his head and exited the room, totally disappointed with her.

For some reason, this hurt her. Some wanted her do the same things others opposed her, she felt trapped and helpless. She didn't expect more nor did she expect less, she didn't expect at all, she gave up, she gave up keeping up with this world where she had no one to talk with. God was surely there for her but what she craved for was a human connection.

The conversation with her dad was absolutely weird, she didn't understand the reason behind his positive behavior but something was wrong with him, something was hurting him.

All this while she had been hiding her pain, ignoring it, distracting herself by the mood swings or by her abrupt attitude, it had been a low blow but not anymore. Now it made sense, things made sense now, her mood changes, her weird desires and behavior, it all made sense. Even the deaths made sense, like how life made sense. Life and death, so closely linked for the correlation of everything. This coexistence was painful even though it made all the sense in the world.

We live over what was already written forever ago, yet we doubt this nostalgia which lingers deep down within our souls.

We live over what is already planned by the Lord of the worlds.

Pausing her tornadic thoughts, she headed to the kitchen with absolutely nothing in mind. Finding herself fetching for the ingredients which she realised that it was for the vegetable pie she was going to make. After struggling to bring it out perfect, when it was ready for baking, she took a breath of gratitude.

"It's alright. It's a pie, it's not supposed to be a piece of cake." His deep voice formed rings in her heart.

"Wow!" She replied in amazemen, completely amused as she chuckled while he joined too.

"Have you been watching me?" She asked, suddenly feeling creeped out.

"For a while yes!" He replied with a smile.

"Oh, why?" She asked scrunching her brows.

"Because I have been thinking . . ." He trailed off looking everywhere but at her.

"What were you thinking about?"

He then said after clearing his thought, "That I want to take up your surgeon's place."

"What? No!" Taraa had a mini heart attack, the adrenaline rushed with an impossible force within her blood pumps.

Ameen was highly offended, like all those years of work and success suddenly meant nothing to him. This was the first time someone didn't need his service.

When the world needed his service.

Oh, she wasn't the world he was living in. She was something else, from some another galaxy's universe. "Why?" Ameen couldn't recognize his voice and so couldn't his wife,

"I mean I don't mean to offend you or it's not about the fact that you just recently lost a patient . . . " She trailed off, widening her eyes when she realised what she had said. "No! It's not that either . . please, don't take it in a wrong way . ." She stammered, feeling pathetic about her choice of words.

"Ameen I swear to God! It's nothing to do with you. It's more of a personal thing!"

Her husband sighed, "What's personal to you always have something to do with me. What's to you is always to me."

Seeing that attractive frown on him, she felt her blood releasing warmth off her skin.

"Now I know . . . ." She whispered averting her gaze from his.

After a long pause when Taraa started to have the pie, Ameen broke the silence. "You don't know your birthday?"

Taraa let out a mocked chuckle, "I have something against numbers. I hate numbers and I'm not good at remembering dates, I'm basically not good at . . . what's the subject called again?"

Ameen rolled his eyes, "Maths!"

"Huh! Maths, yes." She paused to take another bite. "I only remember my birthday for official stuff, otherwise I can't. Numbers cause my brain to work up a lot and that annoys and aches my head. And birthdays are irrelevant . . . So that's why!"

She finished gobbling up more of the pie, Ameen's presence slowly fading off.

"I need your consent for the surgery, you have to agree to it . ." Ameen continued taking out the form papers. "You have to sign . . " When he noticed that she was least bothered, consumed with the pie he then stomped toward her, snatched the pie to place it on the table behind, "I'm talking serious stuff here!" He clenched his teeth, shooting fires in her bored eyes.

"Yes, I already said no! Are you going to force me in this?" She challenged, her voice levelling his.

Nodding to her stubbornness, he said, "I'm only going to convince you . ."
"That you cannot, it's impossible to win my mind for I myself fail at tha-" Before she could complete, she was cut off in the most unexpected way.

She's supposed to feel those dazzling butterflies erupt, but those butterflies had died a long time ago. A part of her frosted heart started to melt when Ameen tenderly kissed her lips but before it could wholly, she pushed him away and pulled away.

"Wow, so romanticizing this whole thing is certainly not going to convince me at all!" Her heart ponded, she was speechless and breathless.

Ameen's lips curved up into a smile, "I wasn't romanticizing anything, I was only connecting . ." His voice suddenly turned deep, there was some charm about the way his words rolled off.

"To convince?" Taraa completed. "Sometimes, man blows my mind into infinity." She paused, "You know this reminds me of Hitler, like when he blew up thousands of civilian houses, he did not for once think of the consequences guilt could serve. Not sure if guilt was a word in his book but there he was . . . working with his mind. Just how bizarre!"

Ameen huffed, "Not again. Please do explain how on earth did Hitler had corelate into this conversation?"

Taraa shrugged, "Don't know darling, all men remind me of Hitler somehow."

"You don't make any sense, you know that right?"

Taraa just chuckled, "I'm not supposed to."

° ° °

It's within a week, I moved it up." Ameen slowly stated.

"What's within a week?" She asked, her mind lost within passing scenes.

"Do you even care?" She was slightly startled when Ameen raised his voice.

"What should I care about?" She asked with a nonchalant frown.

"Your surgery. ACL! In a week, I moved it up!" Ameen said after pressing his lips in frustration. "Looks like I'm the only one who's concerned about it though it's not my problem." He muttered the last part.

She was least bothered.

"Good, you should be concerned. If not you then who else would be. And relax, it's a common surgery, no big deal. You are the one making it your problem when it's not to be."

"Taraa please!" Ameen sighed.

"Okay!" And the rest of the ride was silent.

She was having some thoughts, good ones about her dreamed 'blurred' future knowing that it would all be just imaginary. It kind of hurt having those thoughts but at the same for some time it felt nice, so good, almost real that it felt like she was actually living them at that moment. Then the surrounding caught her attention, causing the conflict between her thoughts and the reality which mocked her, caused her to believe that her thoughts would forever remain in her head, forever caged inside it, imprisoned for eternity. She wanted freedom for her thoughts, she wanted them to settle among the clouds so that when it would rain, she could feel them on her skin, she could live in them.

It made her feel like a galaxy, infinite in a typical way, where she'd never end for the cells or the molecules inside her body left her in awe, where too a black hole existed as some day surely it would consume her, it would betray her, all of her.

In the end, we all die in details.

The surgery was the last thing on her mind. She had been avoiding it though Ameen compelled her to sign him in. What bothered her was that she felt uncomfortable with him being her core surgeon. She thought it was bad idea given to the fear that if anything were to go wrong, he would forever live with the guilt.

Guilt wasn't entirely a good thing. Guilt was a prey to human kind.

But Ameen wanted her to trust him and she couldn't help but to rely on his doubted trust. The benefit of doubt, it was all about that! But more than anything she asked Al Wali' to make everything easier for her.

These days, the level of her faith had been too low. She had been consumed by everything and everyone that she couldn't dedicate much time for her Maker though she only submitted her obligations. Things had been hard, it was hard to keep up with the highs. Sometimes the lows get very deep. Her husband seemed like an average Muslim. Not into the hurumaat neither into the mandubaat, he was a fine guy trying to do good in the world, saving the world while not understanding that family should be the people who needs saving first.

What could she do? Only tell Allah about it.

° ° °

She was kind of nervous about it, the fact Ameen would be the one drilling her knee sent adrenaline to surge in her veins. She wished time slowed down a little but it flew faster than usual.

To Time,

I wish you knew how ironic I am feeling while writing this to you. I wish the irrationality could be explained, I wish infinity could have an end, hope I am not being too ironic! More than anything, I wish to sit with you, and laugh with you and tell you tales of the moments which have passed by with you. Again, I know how crazily ironic this is getting. Sometimes, I wanna hear time, touch time and feel it, sit with time and tell it how I'd gotten through phases because of it, I wanna tell tales of my life and laugh with it, how ironic does that sound?

What more could I tell you when you, yourself are knowledgeable of my past, present and future? The concept of writing this letter itself is quite funny, as to how you surprise me with emotions I never thought I would experience.

You are another of God's creation which blows my mind as you never pause, even for a nanosecond. And your suitability never comes right or stops, you just keep flying faster than usual when you aren't supposed to. It gets me to wonder if it's me or it's actually you!

My greatest defect is that I think I have you. But I don't. You and I are never on the same page, we race against each other knowing who'd win; you. Do you ever want to pause, to still, to ever give me your company? For once, just once, would you consider letting me cross that finish line first?

With sorrow,
Your Known Soul.

She was dressed into the necessary hospital clothes, waiting in the ward room as the nursed did a quick check up, she frowned when she left.

She waited for Ameen to show up but she checked with the nurse that he was busy with another surgery.

To be honest, she was a little disappointed that his absence made her want him.

Fifteen minutes prior, she was then asked to lay down. They dressed her up more, the cap and the goggles, Taraa had the intense urge to cringe in nausea. Injecting some saline or such, which she restrained herself to know what exactly was running in her veins as sometimes, the details were nightmares for her.

It was time.

Ameen, I need you, where are you?

Why was her heart pounding? Like she believed, it was a most common successful surgery. Then what made her nervous? It was the human nature, but Taraa was beyond that, something or maybe someone made her anxious and she couldn't tell what or who it was.

She couldn't understand anything, staring at the bright lights parallel to her sight, blurred her, passing by with flashes though the nurses were pushing the bed steadily. Taraa blinked then she closed her eyes.

Heartbeats.

Before they had entered the theatre, Taraa made sure to recite all the possible prayers. Fisting her hands, she gripped the reeling of the bed, she was anxious, she needed to see Ameen's face.

"How are you feeling?" She heard a cheery voice ask her.

Taraa gulped, she did not want to lie so she remained silent.

"I'm Doctor Ree, one of Ameen's colleagues." The female doctor introduced and Taraa had the strongest urge to roll eyes at her.

Big deal?

"What's your name?" Doctor Ree then asked, her voice sounded like she was in her late forties, and Taraa was in no mood for common courtesies.

She flinched as one of the present nurse started injecting another saline.

"Taraa is it?" She was asked.

Taraa only nodded.

"Do you know what your name means? It comes from the Persian roots, meaning Star . . ." The doctor went on and on about the history behind her name and she wanted to back answer, Like I don't know?

Doctor Ree's voice began fading as Taraa's head felt dizzy with a strange sense of weight, her vision was slowly blackening, she couldn't hold herself, when she had surrendered herself to the darkness.

Ameen, what are they doing to me?

° ° °

She jolted awake with her head pulsing with madness. She couldn't remember anything, she looked around only to have her sight bedimmed. Before she could panic herself to death, the awaited touch of a pair of hands on her shoulders sent peaceful waves to her heart.

Ameen!

She saw his face levelling to hers, "Hi!" That's what he said.

Taraa sensed the smile in his voice and she felt like tearing up as her eyes watered.

"Where in the freaking hell were you?"

Ameen blinked.

"I was . . um . . t-the . . um you know . . .-"

"Why weren't you here with me?" She whispered with betrayal.

"Been in another surgery, and I'm not the anesthetic doctor. I'm sure Ree was nice to you, yeah?"

"Is it done?" She then asked impatiently.

"It haven't started yet!" Ameen said, looking everywhere but at her.

Ameen then gently put her back down. "Half of your body is anesthetized. And now I'm going to start, insha Allah."

"What? Why half and not full?" Taraa yelled with a frown.

"Taraa relax! It's okay."

"No, it's freaking not!" She fumed, banging her fist against the bed. "I don't want to be awake while the surgery!"

Ameen sighed, "You won't feel a thing, I promise."

"Stop with those reassurances, they aren't helping. And it's not about that."

"Whatever it is, just relax, it's going to be fine. Just trust me."

She wanted to cuss him, for no reason. She had gone mad but when those words came out from her husband's mouth, she was taken aback,

"One of those days. . ." All the female nurses glared at him as Taraa internally cringed.

Ameen was caught off guard, looking everywhere but them, he managed to correct himself. "I-I didn't mean those days, I meant the days when she has a bad and a hard time."

Taraa rolled her eyes.

"Taraa, you ready?" Ameen asked his wife.

"Why ask me? I'm the patient here . . . it's not like I'm one operating." She threw a remark, earing a reproving look from Ameen.

"Ok, sorry I asked. My bad." After a pause while positioning her knee, he ordered, "Nurse Sela, let's start with grafting first, then get the drill tunnel ready."

She remained frozen, her heart on the brink of losing its beats, and that moment she wanted to let it all out, "Ameen?"

"Doctor Ameen needs to focus right now, it's bett-" Ameen cut off the nurse.

"It's ok. Yes, Taraa?" He asked while being busy with the grafts.

"Did I ever tell you of my dreams?" Her tone was broken, sorrowed.

Ameen internally sighed, wanting to ignore her. "No."

"I want to tell you about them now." The demand in her tone held weights.

"Okay, I'm listening . . ." Ameen didn't have a choice, he didn't want to upset her.

"Do you ever wish to travel to the mountain side, high above them and everything in between, and chase the stars under the northern lights? We could be full of life and forget the universe? Maybe God wrote for me the galaxies . . .or even Paradise while here I'm dreaming of the world."

She moved onto the next dream while he started drilling in.

"Or when the sunrays would blind you as you'd race through the meadow-grasses for those lost butterflies, wearing your favorite frock. The world would leave you alone, you'd trip and fall into the grass and just exhale out your mind with a smile. The butterflies would feed on your insecurities and you would finally taste the sweetness in the tranquil wind."

"The cannula, please." He then asked one of the nurses.

"Why do we try to become complete when God created us incomplete. And even if all the whole galaxies were to patch and settle inside us, we would still remain incomplete for only God is complete. None is complete but Him. But yet, there are cries, aches and bleeding from the corners of this world from the souls who want to become whole, to be complete. There's beauty in staying incomplete as maybe if a part of my incompleteness needed yours, even then we will never be complete. That's the aesthete, our halves find each other only to break us more into multiple halves."

Ameen stopped to glance at her, her words pricking his soul. The nurses eyed at the couple, speechless , unaware of how to react.

A lone tear escaped from her eyes.

Different pieces don't need to fit into the puzzles to display the beauty.

"It sounds ironic, I know. As much as it does, there's something about skating, let it be ice skating or roller blades, it carries you to the winds you have never met before. Or when the wind takes you to places you've been in love with but never actually visited, you are then hit with the realisation that you have missed out on so many things in the world just because the people who are supposed to love you, made life impossible. . How can I travel the world when freedom is nowhere near me?"

And then it went on through out the surgery . . .

Him mending her broken dreams as she only brought to him.

° ° °
(Relating to the Prologue)

As soon as he was recruited to the senior post for agreeing to that delivery, that unexpected, surprised news lead his parents to get him married, "Life is short, stop waiting." Said his mother.

That post changed his life. It changed Taraa's too.

"My friend Adel, he has a daughter . . ." His dad began and Ameen pressed his lips.

Ameen then realised that promotion had unlocked a door to his destiny. He didn't want to, but he couldn't even deny. He didn't want to upset his parents nor did he want them to be suspicious about him, he didn't want things to change but he had no choice.

He had to create that extra timeline.

It was Taraa.

He gritted his teeth, what has he done?

His reputation would go down to hell if he hadn't agreed. He accepted it, and his father went to hers to make things official.

He ruined a life, he messed up things. With his first wife and his new one, he was helpless, he didn't know what to do, but the flow would lead him to answers he wanted to find.

She was the star in the skyline he never deserved to reach.

But that was his fate.

--- --- ---

السلام عليكم ورحمة لله وبركاته
Dearest Readers,
Happy winter and welcome to December. How have you been? This month last year had been the very time I had published my first story ever, Guilted. Kind of feeling nostalgic but great too, love the vibes the ambience of this season is giving me, couldn't be more grateful for everything. Alhamdulillah.

Sorry, my English Language is draining and weakening day by day as I go to an Arabic university, where the place is making me to forget the English language. Yes, that's how I feel.

Hope you have enjoyed the chapter and by the way, that letter TO TIME was again, one of the letters I wrote to my friend, Maryam.

PS: The quote, " Different pieces don't need to fit into the puzzles to display the beauty." is Maryam's and the original written by her is"Different pieces don't have to fit together to look beautiful". The one written in the chapter is changed by me.

If you have any questions, confusion, doubts regarding the story, let me know. You can inbox me or comment on the specific chapters anytime and I'll be clearing them out through the coming chapters insha Allah.

Keywords:
Mandubaat: [Plural of mandoob or (mostly) mustahab] meaning Recommended, favored, or loved.

Hurumaat: [Plural of haram]

The Islamic law, (أحكام) falls into five categories:

[Halal, Mustahab, Mubah, Makrooh, Haram]

This is the order starting from permissible to prohibited, where in between lies 'Loved', 'Neither encouraged nor discouraged', and then 'discouraged'.

This is the base of Islamic Law.

Peace and Love,
froward