~ ONE MONTH LATER ~

“Let’s talk about the day you were freed, shall we?” Mrs. Fatima Iftikhar, her psychiatrist asked at the start of their fourth session.

Kubra groaned. True, it was her who had practically begged for therapy, but these weekly sessions were her least anticipated events. There was no excuse she had left to escape these. Unfortunately or fortunately, Huma, Saad and her father knew how to read between her lies, and her fears as well.

Kubra looked at the human being in front of her who had the patience of a saint. She had to give it to Fatima. She wasn’t the easiest of patients, yet she had managed to make her feel comfortable around her.

The sophisticated woman in her mid-thirties waited patiently for her to answer. And she did.

Swallowing, she replied, “If we must.”

“Tell me how you felt when you knew you were a free woman.”

She wet her lips. “When the judge announced that I was a free woman, I . . . I couldn’t believe my ears. I didn’t have to go back to that small prison. Saad had fulfilled his promise. I remember everyone I loved was over the moon.” She smiled remembering how happy everyone was.

“And were you?”

“Was I what?”

“Were you happy?”

Not for the first time, she ran her tongue on her bottom lip. Then she sucked it into her mouth and contemplated for a long moment. “For a moment, I think I was. I was on cloud nine. The proof was in front of everyone that I was not a murderer. You can’t know how much that meant to me. My class fellows, my teachers, even my parents . . . now they couldn’t doubt even a little bit that I was guilty. In that moment I couldn’t contain my happiness.”

“You think your parents doubted you too?” Fatima jotted something down in her notepad.

She nodded. “They had no reason to believe that I didn’t kill. They stood by me because I was their daughter and they couldn’t stand to see me behind bars. But I think they didn’t trust me.”

“We’ll come back to it again. First tell me why you weren’t happy.”

“I should’ve been happy, right?” She asked a question that wasn’t meant to be answered. She covered her face with her palms, looked up and groaned. “Gosh! I sound so ungrateful.”

“Don’t worry about being judged here. Talk freely.”

Kubra stood up from the chair and laid down on the couch, adjusting her hair so that they fell over the arm. “Your couch is too soft.” She exhaled. “Well, as I told you. I was happy. But then the bubble popped all too soon. My mother hugged me and I was slammed into the reality that awaited me.”

When she didn’t continue, Fatima probed her. “What happened when your mother hugged you?”

“I couldn’t bear it.” She shook her head. “I felt this immeasurable urge to shove her away from me, vomit my guts out and scrub myself in a lifelong shower. I realized that nothing would be the same as before. I couldn’t just pick myself up from where I was dragged away. And every moment after that simply proved me right.”

“How and what did you find different?”

She looked at Fatima as if she was stupid and couldn’t figure it out. “Everything in every way. It was too much of everything. It was too loud. The house was too bright. Everything was too comfortable, too accommodating. The seats were too soft. The water was too clean. My parents were too touchy. Even the temperature was too okay.”

“And that was a problem?”

“Yes, it was! I spent four years in that cell. Four years with no human contact. No nothing. The water tasted foul and the air was always either too too cold or too hot. And I had gotten used to that! I am used to that now! Sometimes I feel like a caveman in a modern setting. I can’t swallow the luxuries. I know I’m an idiot for thinking that but I miss being in that cell where I didn’t have to deal with people’s sympathies and pities and my mother’s constant crying!”

Why the hell was she crying right now?

Fatima stood up from behind the desk, grabbed the tissue box and offered it to her. Not caring for grace or her Kohl being smudged, she wiped the moisture from her eyes and snot from her nose.

Fatima then dragged the chair Kubra had vacated and sat in front of her.

“You think your mother is too emotional?”

She let out a laugh, or well the kind where one just exhales loudly through his nose and which holds no humor. “I don’t think that. I know that! Everyone does. She’s not a mentally strong person. She always has been . . .  too sensitive. Even before everything. I would say that I need some space and time alone to work on my project, and she would think I want to run away from her. She’s the kind of person who uses her emotions to manipulate people around her. It used to get on my nerves, but not as much as it does now. Now I think that she would cry until I promise her that I won’t get out of her sight.”

“You or your father never tried to get her medical help? Sounds like you think she could use it.”

“She could use it. But my father. . .”

“Your father? How’s your relationship with him?”

“Oh I love him. I love my mother as well, if you were wondering . . . I have a healthy relation with my father, you could say. Up to a point, that is.”

“And why is that?”

“He loves my mother. And he supports everything that she does. Everything! For him, the world starts and ends at her. He doesn’t think that she could do something wrong. He supports her emotional manipulation. He would do anything for her happiness. Even leave behind his daughter in a cell at a time when she needed to be assured that there were people who loved her and wouldn’t leave her.”

“So you haven’t forgiven them for leaving?”

“I-” What? Forgive them? She didn’t even know it was something that needed to be forgiven. “I don’t hold it against them. They did what they needed to do. I don’t know how difficult it was for them, with everyone accusing them that their daughter was a murderer.”

“But you can’t forget it.”

She nodded. That sounded about right. “I can’t help but think that if I’d had their support and their trust, I wouldn’t have tried to k-” She cleared her throat. She still couldn’t talk about the night she had tried to kill herself. That was the lowest of herself she’d ever been, and she was ashamed of it. “I didn’t want to end it all, you know. I thought I needed to end it all. That everything would be just better. But I didn’t want it.”

She thought about KB who kept convincing her that the world was better off without her.

“I still don’t.”

“More often than not, we think that the world is better off without us.” She looked at Fatima alarmingly. That’s exactly the words she’d thought. Fatima simply smiled. “That’s false. The world doesn’t care whether we’re in it or not. It’s too big to care about the small things as us. We need to make our mark. We need to tell it that it’d be a loss if we left.”

She sniffed and picked at her cuticles, suddenly feeling too small. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“Why don’t you start by small things? What made you happy?”

She swallowed. “Painting.”

“That’s a great way to start. You can retake painting as a hobby and see if it still gives you the mental peace that you desire.”

“No, I can’t.” This was yet another deprivation that she held Yusuf responsible. And if she had to rank them all, it was the greatest of all.

“Why not?”

She held up her left hand and it trembled under Fatima’s watchful gaze. “I can’t hold up a pencil let alone draw something with it.”

Fatima leaned forward in her chair, a challenge gleaming in her eyes. “It’s a good thing then, that you have two of those.”

*~*~*~*

Kubra got out of the car driven by her father’s driver. She hated that he didn’t let her drive now. She was not well enough to be left alone on her own, her parents had said. Why did it sound like ‘she’s crazy and would probably cause an intentional accident’ to her?

“Kubra, meri jaan, you’re here. Are you hungry? Should I prepare some lunch for you?”

She was quietly trying to make her way to her room when her mother out to her from the bottom of the stairs.

“No, mom, I’m good. Thanks though.”

“You should eat something though, dear. You didn’t have anything for breakfast either.”

I didn’t have anything for dinner or lunch yesterday either, but it’s probably better if you’re not aware of it.

“I’ll eat something later.” She turned to go, but her mother wasn’t a quitter.

“Should I call Saad? I know you only eat well when he’s around. No matter how much everyone else tries it.”

She groaned. “That’s not true, mom.” That’s true. “You don’t need to call Saad. He’s not even in town right now. I’ll eat when I get h- Why are you crying, mom?!”

“My daughter is withering away in front of me. She doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, doesn’t do anything. I can’t even comfort her. What am I supposed to do?” Sonia had grabbed the railing to support herself as light sobs shook her body.

Try to talk to your mother how you feel about her crying. Maybe it’ll help.

Easier said than done, Fatima.

Or maybe you could let your father handle her.

Good idea. I never would’ve thought that. If only my dad was home 24/7.

Sighing, she climbed down the stairs. Stopping beside her, she said, “It’s nothing like that, mom. I’m fine. Even my therapist says that I’m faring well. I’ll be okay. I’m trying my best to be the daughter I was to you before. Just give me time, please.”

Sonia nodded and wiped her cheeks. “At least let me hug my daughter once.” She opened her arms and stepped forward to hug. But Kubra climbed up the stairs backwards faster than a monkey.

“Just please quit it, mother! I’ll come to you when I’m ready! Don’t suffocate me!”

Perhaps not the best choice of words, but she didn’t stay behind long enough to hear her lament.

*~*~*~*~*

She rolled the pencil in the forefingers and thumbs of both her hands. Her left hand didn’t always keep trembling. It only happened when she held something in it or simply thought about holding it. Other times, maybe she had subconsciously developed a habit of keeping it fisted tightly.

She hadn’t even thought of painting something since that night two weeks after she had tried to kill herself. That night, she had held up a brush in her hand and hurled it at the wall right after when it wasn’t balanced in her hand.

She hadn’t painted anything since.

Could she do it now? Looking down at the pencil in her hand that wasn’t still, she had her answer. She couldn’t.

She let the pencil drop and let her hands rest on the floor on her either side, laying on it like a starfish.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. “Come in.”

Her father entered and she tensed, already knowing the topic was going to be her mother. He saw her lying on the floor, but this time, he didn’t question her. Everyone knew she couldn’t sleep on the bed.

She sat up and watched as his father sat beside her. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“How did your session go?”

“Filled with questions and questions. All she ever does is ask me how I feel about stuff. I mean, isn’t she supposed to be the best in town? Isn’t she supposed to help me? She never offers a solution, just highlights the problems.”

Her father raised his brows.

“Okay, maybe not NEVER. I suppose she offers some advice. But mostly it’s just questions and questions. It’s exhausting.” She complained and her father listened. It was almost like when she used to complain about her teachers when they gave unnecessary homework.

“You’re talking again. I think she must be doing something right.” Her father smiled at her kindly. Why was it that when someone pointed out that you’re talking, you immediately cease doing it?

She cleared her throat. “Well, that’s her job. To make things right.”

“Yes, it is.” He paused. Then asked what he was there to do. “Kubra, beta what did you say to your mother?”

Kubra groaned and fell down on the floor, grabbing her head with her hand. “Dad, I didn’t say anything. She just makes a fuss out of everything.”

“She’s worried for you.”

“Well then, why doesn’t she do what everyone else who’s worried for me is doing? Give me time to heal and come to them. Not push me into doing something I’m not ready to do!”

“She just misses you, beta. Maybe you shouldn’t be so harsh towards her.”

“I miss myself, dad! There’s no one who misses me more than me. But why does she have to make everything about her? I don’t know how to assure her that I’m fine when I can’t even eat on my own properly. I don’t know how to hold her close and tell her that she has her daughter. Why don’t you make her understand that, rather than asking me to do everything she wants?”

“Okay, don’t get hyper,” her father softly said, trying to be bridge of peace between his wife and his daughter. “I tried to make her understand that as well, love. But you know she’s sensitive.”

“I know. And I can’t deal with it right now, dad. Dealing with myself is proving to be difficult enough dad.”

“Okay. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to your mother.” He noticed the pencil on the floor. “Are you-?”

He let the question hang unfinished. She looked at the pencil again and decided to tell her father what he wished to know. “Fatima suggested I should try to do art again.” She bit her top lip. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Well I think you should try it. Besides, you still have to complete your college. You have to start somewhere.”

She felt irritated again. “Great! I can’t even hold a pencil and you are pressuring me into finishing school!” She stood up again. Her father opened her mouth to argue, to tell her that she read into it wrong but she wasn’t having any of it. “Just let me do things at my own pace, you guys! Stop pestering me, please!”

And she left the room to go into the lawn and sit on the swing that was wet from the rain.

*~*~*~*

“What are you doing here?”

Of course, the night had fallen and someone would have found her. Although the company was of the person she actually desired right now, she didn’t let go of the iron chain of the swing. Instead she leaned into one, hugged it tight and let it softly sway.

Sighing she replied, “Hiding away.”

Saad stepped forward and occupied the free of the two swings.

“What’s the point? I’ll always find you.”

She smiled at him and closed her eyes. “I wasn’t hiding from you.”

“Then?”

“Mom, dad. They were being too much.”

He nodded and didn’t ask further. That’s what you got to love about Saad. He knew when he should hold his tongue.

“Are you hungry?”

Another thing. He always seemed to know what she needed.

“Famished.”

“Why didn’t you eat, then?”

“I didn’t have the energy to empty my guts after.”

He swayed the swing sideways until it was touching hers and then held it in place with his foot firm on the ground. “You know, as much as I’m honored, you need to start eating without me. I can’t be with you every second of every day, as much as it pains me, just as much as it does to see you starving.” He cupped her face and rubbed her cheek with his thumb.

“Why not? I wouldn’t mind you being with me all the time.” She leaned into his palm and looked into his eyes.

“Hmm. . . That’s a nice sentiment, but what if you get bored of me?” He asked her, seeming only half-serious. But behind that mock curiosity, she could see in his grey eyes that he was genuinely worried of that possibility.

“That’s never even remotely possible.”

“And why is that?” Was is her, or was he leaning closer to her? Who cared? What mattered was there was almost no space between them.

“When heart gets bored of beating, the soul leaves the body. When I get bored of your presence, you can dig my grave.”

With that, she joined their lips in a feather-light kiss.

When he leaned away just enough so that he could speak, he uttered in the lowest of voices she wasn’t even sure he’d actually said it. But the anticipating, excited spark in his eyes told her he’d actually said,

“Marry me, then.”

*~*~*~*~*

Assalam o alaikum, everyone!💓💓

How are you all? 🤍

EEEEEEEE!!!! He proposed! Finally, the ship is sailing faster than Black Pearl!❤️❤️❤️💓💓💓🥰🥰🥰

I know it wasn’t the most romantic that you guys might have expected from Saad, but well, It felt right!🥰🥰

Anyway, there’s a lot more that happened in the chapter. Aren’t you guys glad to know that Kubra shares your irritation with her mother? And what do you guys think? Should she take up painting again? Knowing me, I’ll probably add more painful drama associated with that, so be ready. By no means is the story coming to an end just because he proposed.

Anyhow!

Please vote ⭐, comment 🖋️, share 📨 and follow.

Thank you 🤍🤍🤍

Lots of love❤️❤️❤️
Javeria.