He wants to say I love you
But keeps it to goodnight
Because love will mean some falling
And she's afraid of heights.
                                                                                   - r.i.d.
        __________________________________________________________________

Days pass and I get accustomed to the new house. With unlimited time to spare I explore the house. But as days turn into weeks, I have gone through the entire bookshelf in his drawing room, I have cataloged the kitchen, which drawer has the spoons, the plates, the pans, the spices. I have interviewed Henry about the lawn, the flowers he grows and the seasons they bloom in. Henry turned out to be a white-haired, stoic man, well tanned due to the hours in the sun.

Maaz kept good on his promise and I do not see him at all. I did feel his presence by; smoothies left on the counter when I woke up to have breakfast, splashes from the pool when he went for a swim, the soft click of the door at eight each morning when he left.

Ira and Addy didn't visit often, perhaps thinking we need newlywed privacy.

By the end of two weeks I fix myself a routine. Breakfast, gardening with Henry for an hour, lunch, reading, trying to sleep, dinner, waiting for that click on the door to know he's home, attempting to sleep. I left him dinner that I cooked on the counter. I usually found the plate rinsed and put away. Which either means he's eating or maybe throwing it away.

I regret my outburst on the first night but I don't know how to set things right. There was another thing, in his bed I could sleep. As in I'd catch a couple of hours sleep, sometimes four hours together which was a miracle.

It is a lazy Sunday afternoon when the door bell rings. I wait for him to get it.
Ding dong. Ding dong.

Maaz must be in the shower. I push myself up and head to the door. I peek through the eye and see a man standing with crisply ironed clothes. I open the door and he hands me the hangers.

'How much?' I ask.

'40.' Handing over the cash I shut the door behind me.

I enter the guest room, willing him to stay inside the bath for another two minutes, until I make my escape. Hesitantly, I open his wardrobe to hang his clothes. His exotic scent ambushes me from within, intoxicating me for a moment. I miss his presence and his talks. I recompose myself and place the hangers inside.

Running my hand across the sleeves of his shirts hanging, I imagine, what he would look like in each of them. My gaze falls on a hat kept beneath the hanging shirts, I try to remember why I feel I've seen it before. My fingers brush against its surface, my brain working.

I feel him behind me and turn around. I flush embarrassed at being seen,I was...just hanging your clothes. They are back from the dry cleaners.' I mumble to the floor.

This was not at all how I'd imagined this going down, I was supposed to escape!

I expect him to be angry with me but his soft voice surprises me.

'You are my wife, there is nothing to feel guilty about if you go through my wardrobe.'

'That hat...' I begin uncertainly, hoping my memory isn't deceiving me, otherwise, he'd think I'm a lunatic, '...it was you...at the library, that day?'

A flicker across his face, then 'Yeah, it was me.'

This time it's him who can't meet my eyes.

'Why?'

'Why what?'

'Why did you do it?' I had puzzled over the incident many a time. I could fathom no reason, for someone to notice me, much less, read my hesitance.

He exhales in exasperation, 'I used to visit the library occasionally, to...to see you. Make sure you were okay. That man scared you and I didn't like the way he was looking at you.'

I stare at him.

'Only meant to keep you safe. I'm sorry' He hangs his head.

Very interesting turn of events. When we did have a conversation I'd thought it would be me, who had to say sorry.

I don't feel bad about his confession. I feel happy that he cared enough to show up simply to check on me and no other reason. Maybe if it was someone else, it would have creeped me out but somewhere deep within me there is a child, that trusts her best friend, and cannot imagine him harming her.

'I don't mind.' I say. He seems relieved of a burden.

'You don't need to call up the dry cleaners every time, I could iron your clothes for you.' I make a small attempt. Anyways I had the whole day to pass and nothing to do.

'You would?' Surprise is clear on his face.

'Yeah I always did it for...' I stop myself in time. I had almost taken his name. In front of Maaz.

'Numair,' he says softly, '...we can talk about him if you want. I'll understand.' He considers for a moment then adds, 'I wouldn't judge him.'

His words are a balm to my throbbing wounds. Every one I tried talking to about him would blame him. Find out his faults and tell me it wasn't my fault.

They would say he didn't really care and I didn't matter to him, as much as he'd mattered to me. And what could hurt more, than being told, that the person you loved more than anything in the world, didn't love you back?

***

I decide to visit Ira in the afternoon, after a few days. I open the partition door, Maaz had shown me, the first day. I blink, it's like stepping into an alternate universe. The house is bright, cheery yellow and a swirl of other colors completely contrasting with the dark, serious interior of Maaz's house.

It is also a little messy, the rug is slightly off center, coffee mugs still left at the table, the morning paper lays spread open as if someone walked away in a hurry before closing it. The house looks lived in and lively.

Structurally, it is a mirror image of the other side. Unable to locate Ira in the living area, I head to the kitchen.

And immediately stop.

Ira is locked passionately in the arms of a man, kissing her. Crap.

'I am so sorry, babe.' He murmurs between kisses. I carefully backtrack doing my best to stay quiet and wipe the image from my head.

Unfortunately, Ira, who is facing my side, opens her eyes. I rush out entirely embarrassed, wishing I had knocked before entering.

I go back to our side closing the door behind me, but not bolting it. I pull out a book and settle near the window staring at the greenery. I did not know Ira was in a relationship. I had assumed her to be single since she never brought anyone along when she came to meet Eliza.

Had I stumbled upon something she didn't want the others to know about?

Maaz returns an hour early from work, instead of avoiding him I remain in the living area. He raises his eyebrows at me. Then, he rushes to me with concern.

'Are you okay?' He looks me up and down.

'Um..yeah?' How wonderful that he thinks I'm outside the room because I'm not okay. Nice image I have built of myself.

'I made dinner.' I say as on cue the oven dings. I made dinner each day but I never ate with him.

'Oh.' He is at a loss of words. I don't blame him. I came out of my room and initiated a conversation with him and am going to eat with him after weeks of totally avoiding him.

'I will be right back.' He says after a minute.

We have our meal in silence. He asks me a few questions about my day which I answer in single words. After dinner he helps me clean up then retires to his study with the door closed.

A knock on my door alerts me. I am a little disappointed when it isn't Maaz but Ira who enters.

'I am extremely sorry. I should have known better than to barge into your house like that.' I gush.

'It is your house too.' She replies, distractedly.

'Sit?' I indicate the couch.

'I...that...have you told Maaz?' She questions me.

'No, I haven't told him. There's nothing to tell. You had a guy over, that's all. I don't think Maaz would mind even if I did tell him.' I soothe her. She wrings her hands together, sits on the couch then gets up again.

'No it's not as simple.' She says. She is confusing me. I walk to her, pushing her back down on the couch and give her a glass of water.

'I can listen.' I tell her. She looks at me, then makes a decision.

'Okay, here goes. That guy is not simply a guy. That was my husband.' My eyebrows scrunch, as I try to find some other meaning of the words than the one I understood.

'You are married?!'

'Technically yes, I mean...we are...were separated.' She responds.

'Oh I'm sorry.'

'He cheated on me.' She holds up a hand to stop me from saying anything. I let her continue.

'I had trusted him against my better judgment and married him. Maaz had warned me but I didn't pay heed to him. I told him he was younger and he had no rights to make wrong assumptions. I told him, he was getting insecure because he always had me only to himself and now he wouldn't.'

I stay quiet letting her collect her thoughts.

'It was one of our worst fights. After he cheated on me after our marriage I realized Maaz was right.' She stops.

'And now?' I prod, sensing there is more.

'Now he is back. Says he is sorry and wants to make up to me. He has been trying to get in touch from a few months but I wasn't giving in.'

'And now you did, you don't know how Maaz would take it.' I complete it for her.

'Or dad.' She sighs.

I don't fill in the silence with words. I don't know her enough to know the right ones. She sits for a while and then abruptly gets up.

'Thanks.' She says suddenly.

'Huh?'

'It is relieving to tell it to you. Thanks for listening.'

'Been a pleasure.' I tell her and she leaves me feeling confused yet nice in a way. Nice that she trusted me and was willing to be open though we barely talked before.

I toss and turn but sleep evades me. I simply close my eyes and hope sleep takes over me. It is then that I hear footsteps approaching. Maybe Maaz needs something from his closet. Technically, this was his room and there were still some of his clothes in the closet.

It is only when I feel his warmth beside me that I realize he is leaning over me. He eases himself on the space near me and I try my best to even my breath so that he thinks I am asleep.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

I feel his rough hands gently brushing my hair from my forehead and there is nothing I can do to stop the erratic thudding of my heart. He pulls the comforter over me as if he is tucking me in, I feel him bend over me and my heart goes into overdrive.

I feel the lightest of touch as his lips meet my forehead and he murmurs 'Good night, love'.

***