"Ap nai kahi apnay hosh o havas tou nahi kho diye?" Alayna questioned, stunned still at his violent proclamation.
[Have you lost your mind?]

"Hosh tou ab aya hai." He said, staring into her bloodshot eyes.
[I have gained my senses now.]

"—who is this man? Have you been dangling around other men? Sweetie I'm sure you've got more potential than — him."

The woman whose south asian features looked misplaced with the blonde hair, looked to his wife. Her red lips and the melanin rich wrinkled skin resembled a shriveled raisin, the scratchy voice failed to hide the distaste inside of it, and Emir frowned at her reaction. Clearing his throat he straightened his back, brushing past her to the side of his wife. Waiting for the much needed introduction.

"Very rich coming from you. I don't think you have the right to speak into my personal affairs Mrs. Jalal. It's best if you walk out — and let the door smack you on your way out."

The latter half of course, spoken in a hushes whisper, only audible enough for Emir to hear who stifled the laughter that bubbled in the back of his throat. Her pink nails pinched the insides of his wrist, from the corner of her eye she glared at him putting the strict expressions back on her face. Emir stared in awe at her, he had never seen her this serious, she was after all always involved in making light of the situation. Clearly, the woman in front of them had largely pissed his wife off.

"I suggest you give me the respect I deserve as your mother."

Emir's jaw dropped at that. It would explain the resemblance he thought, although he was luck Alayna still had features from her father's and looked a hundred times better than the woman she called mother.

"My mother died the day she walked out of that door!"

"Don't be like that Alayna, I had to, you don't understand."

"Why? You had everything! Dad never wanted you to stop working — you had a daughter and the man doted over you with blindness. More often than not — he turned a blind eye to the men you brought home! And yet — yet you act like he abused you!"

Alayna saw red. Her vision was blinded as she shot up from the sofa, with nothing but a raging fire around her she paced nearer and nearer to the woman that had once, filled her up with pride — that too having been when she was five. Her throat clogged with the tears and pent up frustration that had for years begged for release. The dam of pain, that held her back from fully exploring life and falling free in love with her husband — was creaking and the bolts were loosening the longer she stared at Anisa Jalal. The murderer of her childhood.

A burning urge in the centre of her palm, triggered the numb part of her mind. Hit her. Hit her. The message was clear as day and stimulated the nerves. She felt the twitch inside her hands, the muscles working in a frozen autopilot, nearing the warmth of her mother's skin. However, before they could collide with the once supple skin, Alayna froze it in place. She stared at her hand and then her, tearing up, frustrated cries ripped through her throat with harshness, her heels dug into the caramel rug as she lunged at her — stopped in place as the warm hands of her husband wrapped around her. Calming her, but the beast inside still lingered.

"Why? Why? For god's sake! You don't get to cry! You are not the victim! Why did you leave us? Were we not enough? For years - years I have had this question bug me. Give me an answer you disgrace of a woman! Why did you leave us?"

Alayna sobbed harder at the lack of response. Her mother was too stunned to speak. She could only stare with an icy strangeness — there was no familiarity between the two, she had killed the fairytale life of her daughter in her own selfishness. Alayna cuddled into Emir's arms, seeking his warmth, her tears like fire burnt him brutally, his hands stroked her hair in gentleness.

"Emir?" She whispered, all life inside of her drained out.

"Ji?" [Yes?]

"Ask this woman, why - why did she leave us. Ask her, was I not enough? Was I not a good daughter? Emir why — why did you leave me alone at the airport? Am I not a good wife? Will I ever be enough for anyone?" She blabbered on, slipping in and out of consciousness.

Emir's heart fell to the pits of his stomach as he sat her down on to the sofa, forwarding a glass of water. Life in all it's crushing forms had deluded him, he had perceived she would be happy without him. Would find someone she truly loved and the they would part ways. This would remain a hitch in their paths and something they could laugh about — his delusional self of course hoped she would still remain friends with him.

"I'm sorry Alayna I thought you'd be happier with your father."

The two replied unanimously, their answers the same. The woman at question, who had suffered time and again the same wounds, never learning her lesson. Steadying her heavy body with the couch's arm rest, she stared at the two. Boring holes into their soul as she began to speak, mulling over each word and letting it escape her eloquent lips — looking nothing short of a deity announcing the punishment of their sins.

"Why are the two of you so stupid? Of course I'd be happier with dad because he is the only who treats me like I am a person with my own opinions," she took a deep breath, her heart racing like a car on the formula 1 runways, " you are my mother, I needed you. You are my husband I will always need you. The two of you didn't have to abandon me. Why and how could you make decisions in my stead? Stop assuming you know what I want! Because the two of you know nothing."

Her hands wrapped around her frame as she moved on the balls of her feet. She looked younger than her age, naive and full of innocence that the world was ready to taint.

"Leave mrs.Jalal. You have no place in this home, take your condolences about my father with you. Thank you for visiting, I just wish you hadn't."

"Y-your father?"

"Yes. If you'd picked my calls Emir, you'd have known he suffered a stroke and is currently in the ICU."

📜

Alayna held her end of the veil to her mouth, sobbing into it as soft as she could. Her heart was in a fix, the ache and dull throbbing could not be stilled no matter what she did, it built up in the form of frustration and she could feel the anger bubbling up. Rage and storms rose up inside of her dried throat, her fist clenched the material of her silk shirt tight. It creased under sweaty palms as the doctors told her the worst of it. Anger and fury piled up on her shoulders.

Congested.
Tight.
Wrapped in iron chains.
Stuck in place.
Alayna's emotions were a whirlwind as the doctor walked away. His face seemingly calm and set in a grim look — it was all fake she knew. No one hurt as much as she was, no one could understand the pain of feeling like you're about to be homeless, about to loose the centre of your identity within mere moments. Questions bubbled in and out of her mind, why, how, when — she had turned to God always but her heart was encased in so much arbitrary darkness that Alayna could not see anything. Still her tears spoke to the Creator even as she hunched over the metal stools, her head turning to sky — nowhere else.

Sound of the rhythmic machinery inside the hospital rooms filled the ever silent hallways. Everyone around her, seated on the painful benches was awaiting news. Some with their grey hairs sobbed as they heard news of grandchildren — others were part of a grave mystery of the universe. Iodine and detergent their sharp smells burnt the nostrils of all around and white walls the color, the symbol of death haunted even the living, rendering them incapable of feeling humane.

"Alayna you need to eat something. You've been starving yourself!"

Emir brushed his hand over hers. He loosened their grip, running a thumb softly over the marks left behind in the now red flesh of her palms. Whimpers left her mouth one after the other, her eyes bloodshot and full of pain looked at his for a second. His reflection in hers was clear — no doubt about that. For a second Emir forgot how to breathe, how could one do that when someone like her, a passionate — perfect woman sat in front of you. Even with her dried lips and swollen eyes, there was no one that could compare to her. She was leagues apart from them all.

"Alayna? Bablu?"

"Don't call me that."

She sniffed, her brain numbed to the point she had no idea of where she was. It was her and the desolate abandonment.

"You're worrying me now."

"Then leave — that's what you'll do anyways. You'll find a woman and marry her, I'd be left all by myself — like always." Alayna replied.

"I'll never do that, not again Alayna," Emir sighed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders he pulled her frame into his, "you're my wife, you will always be by my side. I promise."

"Dad said he - he won't leave me but - but Emir he's — he's not even trying to fight for me. You - you go talk to him. Tell him that I need him. Please Emir — please!"

Alayna begged him, her hands rising in front of him in surrender. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks until they met at the valley of her dimpled chin. They melted like snow flakes on her veil, with each tear the cheerfulness inside of her eyes dimmed. She was lost. In thought, in memories, in the loss that she could suffer soon. Her pain — was his pain. They were similar, more than she had realized. Emir observed the fall of her lips, her head sinking to her knees. She hid from him, her emotions and her everything — how he wished she knew, he was familiar with the pain — much better than she would know.

"I understand how you feel Alayna."

"That's the single most insensitive remark Emir! Your parents are fine!"

"My parents are dead. You hear me? They're dead!"

Spitting those words out he hit himself in the forehead with his fist. He had never wanted the truth to come out like this. For years now, he had suppressed the feelings and the truth, hid it professionally from everyone. Janice and Yusuf Khan had never given him reason to not think of them as his parents. Yet the truth was, set in stone and no one could change it.

"What do you mean Emir?"

"Don't you find it weird Taimoor inherited the business empire even though I'm older?"

"Well — that's because you're good at cooking."

"Maybe — for the most part it's because he is the true heir. My mother, Seemal Khan, and my father Almir Khan — the brother of Yusuf Khan, died in a car crash on their way to the hospital when I was five. I didn't understand what was happening then but it hit me after we moved to Italy. I still have nightmares of the day, their bloodied bodies, thrown out of their cars as a drunk driver hit their car from the back in the front of our home. I'll never forgive that man — and I'll never forget that pain."

"Em-Emir I'm so sorry, I didn't —"

"It's alright amore. You didn't know," he squeezed her hand in reassurance, "you and I, we're very alike Alayna. I just hope you can give us a chance again."

"I will, I've thought about it. However,  I have one condition."

"I'll accept it whatever it is."

"Great! Be prepared to make me lambay donuts anytime I ask for them!"

I had this planned since before Romanza in Rome.
Emir's book was to be written by a close friend author so I wanted her to reveal this. However, since she's busy these days, I decided I'd write it myself.