Tragedies will always be found in the things we love,
and if we are not willing to see the beauty
in losing something that means the world to us,
then imagine how terrible it would be to live for them.

We must always welcome the end of all things,
for sometimes, knowing nothing lasts forever,
is the only way we can learn to fall in love
with all the moments and all the people
that are meant to take our breath away.

r.m. drake

___________________________________________________________________

'Have you visited Maria after...?' He trails off. I look up from my cereal at the break in silence.

'Maria as in?' I hedge.

'As in Numair's mother.' He clarifies. He plays with his cereal not looking directly at me.

'How do you even know her?' I am alert. Any mention of the past that I try so hard to forget ruffles me.

'She was in the hospital... around three weeks ago. With the marriage coming up I didn't want to upset you.'

'How do you know that?' I question him, my breakfast long forgotten. He pushes his bowl away as well and looks up at me.

'Selah, Numair's brother is an acquaintance of Arhaan.'

He thinks for a minute perhaps judging my mood.

'Zara, I think we should go meet her. She was your mother in law. Don't you think you should at least meet her once? She hasn't been keeping well for a while.'

'Oh.' I am at a loss of words.

'You both share the same grief. Perhaps she can best understand your pain. Obviously it hit her as hard as it hit you. She hasn't recovered since.' I notice how he carefully avoids mention of the word death.

I feel a stab of guilt. I probably should not have severed ties with her. Nothing that happened was her fault. As Maaz says, I should have been there to share her grief. Maybe together we would have fared better.

We decide to visit her the next afternoon. I'm skeptic and jittery the rest of the day. I am unsure, how to pop up after one year nine months and say, hey, remember me? The wife of your dead son...oh and by the way, this is my husband.

Would she blame me? Hate me?

The day arrives much faster than I was hoping. We leave early to reach her house situated on the outskirts of the city. After an hour of driving, the GPS informs that we have arrived at our destination.

I fidget with my seatbelt, hesitating. Now is the last chance to turn back.

Maaz places his hand under my chin, making me look up, 'It will be okay. I am right here.'

I push his hand away, flinching from his touch.

I have to do this. For Numair.

The door opens, a frail, white-haired, lady stands before us. I register Maria in shock. She smiles at us and then surprising me she pulls me into her. I stand stiffly with my hands at my sides.

Wetness on my shoulder pulls me out of my shock. I gingerly put my hands around her as she sobs.

'About time you came.' She says softly.

'I thought you'd hate me. That nobody would want me here.' I murmur in her hold.

'You are the one thing that Numair loved more than life. How could I hate you?'

'But Numair hated me. We had...'

'Perhaps later. I do not know the things between you two. But once he did love you.' She says with such conviction that I do not have the heart to tell her how badly things had ended. I cannot confess to her that he did not love me at all and it was all in vain.

Numair had made it quite clear how unwanted I was in his life and there was no doubt left about it. We were not even living under the same roof during his last few months.

I pull back and take a good look at her, curling white hair with no traces of black remaining. The permanent upside down curve of her lips which once always used to be turned up in a smile.

Who could grieve more than a mother?

And I had been thinking my grief was the heaviest. How selfish I have been. If not for Maaz, you may have never realized this, points out my brain. It seems to have become a Maaz supporter.

'And this is?' She inquires as she leads us inside, indicating Maaz.

I begin to sweat, what do I tell her?

'Uh this is my...'

'Friend.' Maaz completes it for me, taking me by surprise.

Maria leads us to the living area, I sit down at the edge of the sofa. Maaz sits down opposite to me, beside Maria.

To say the conversation was awkward would be an understatement. Maaz inquires about her health while I listen silently. After the polite talk I cannot hold myself from asking.

'Can I see... his room?' The room that was called his when he came over, sometimes with me.

'Please.' I add, unsure if his room exists. It could have been easily refurnished into another room by now.

'Sure dear, we haven't moved much around; most of his things are still there. And maybe some of yours too.'

I swallow hard. Now is not the time to break down. I plaster a smile and nod politely.

'You are welcome to anything you want to take.' She says as she leads me up to his room.

My footsteps falter as she halts in front of a chestnut brown door.

'Here. It's all yours.' She says softly. She places a reassuring hand on my arm and then she is gone.

I stare at the door in front, shuddering at the thought of what lies behind it.

I imagine Numair sitting on his four-poster bed that dominates the room. Cheery yellow curtains fluttering, the breeze flowing in from the window behind him. He would look up as I walk in, his face would light up with that particular smile on seeing me. I would hurry over to him and maybe trip over a stray shoe on the floor.

He would laugh at my clumsiness. His rich laughter that would make me smile.

I place my hand on the smooth cool wood of the door. I muster courage to push it open, telling myself none of that is going to happen.

The door swings open under my hand. The four poster bed at the center, the curtains drawn of the window behind it. His wardrobe is to my left. My eyes stop on the side towards the wall the one that used to be my shelf in case we came over. The dresser is opposite the bed, with a grand imposing mirror.

Everything is still the same.

But not quite.

The rug in the middle is slightly dusty. The dresser is empty, no perfume, no comb, no wallet, no keys nothing on top, marking the absence of a living soul. The room lacks its previous warmth. It smells abnormal not the usual blend of shampoo, soap and cologne that Numair used to infuse it with. The sense of security that its inhabitant gave me had made it a lovely place to be.

Now it is only a room.

I ignore the throbbing in my chest and head to the wardrobe. His few clothes hang inside.

My fingers trace his clothes, the few he had left behind at his mom's. I lean forward searching for a hint of him. The clothes smell like nothing but dust. Gone were his remnants.

I remain transfixed, staring at the furniture. The dumb witnesses to our once happy lives. I can hear the echo of his laughter bouncing against the walls.

I don't realize how long I stand there in a daze, memories bouncing before my eyes and flowing down my cheeks. Moments spent in this very room. Only when Maaz taps me on my arm I come back to the present.

He gazes at me, his eyes a mixture of conflict. He raises his hands as if to hold me but stops midway, dropping them.

My vision blurs as more tears pour out. Is it because he did not hold me? I hear doors open and slide as he looks around the room. Drawers slide as he continues examining the room.

I will the tears back, wiping them on my sleeve. I hear him gasp and a click. I swerve towards him, he stands before the closet, peering inside.

Intrigued, I walk over to find him looking inside a concealed locker.

'Did you know about this?' He asks me.

'Yes, but we never had anything that precious to keep inside.' I tell him.

He pulls out a small black box from inside. One that I have never seen before. He places it in my hand.

Gingerly, I remove the lid of the box, nestled inside between balls of cotton is a snow-globe. I pull it out in surprise, my eyes widen, my breath stops as I observe the tiny figurines inside.

The snow falls on a man on his knees, wearing a black tux. Those broad shoulders straining under them, the almond eyes and that smile. I would recognize it even if it was a figurine. And standing in stark contrast with the white snow is an ethereal figure dressed in black. Waist length jet black hair, eyes bright with happiness and rosy cheeks.
Numair and I. A replica of our engagement as he places a tiny ring onto my finger while I smile at him.

There is no willing back the tears now.

Engraved on the globe at the sides is, You & I, forever.

I stand mesmerized by the treasure in my hand. On the lid is a note with his signature and the words, keep it safe. When was he going to give me this? Did he get this before he decided he didn't love me or after?

Whatever his motive was I'd never know but I decide to keep his last gift to me.

Maaz is a statue beside me, I see him slide his hand out from his back pocket when I look at him.

'Let's go.' I tell him. He quietly hands me a tissue. He slips his pinky finger into mine, hooking me to him.

After one last look at the room, I shut the door to memories that once had been and move downstairs with the man who is my present.

Maria gets up when she spots us. Selah, Numair's brother is seated beside her. It is painful to watch the resemblance that he shares with Numair.

'Thank you so much.' I earnestly tell her.

'No problem, dear. It was a pleasure to see you. Do visit us again.'

I am more than ready to go home and crash onto my bed. I don't think anything is going to stop me from falling asleep tonight. I have been physically and emotionally drained.

I had taken the pains to wear jewelry today after ages. My ears feel sore. I unhook my earrings and place them on the dresser. I look up at my reflection in the mirror. I find the reflection of Maaz's eyes on me gazing intently.

'What?' I say suddenly conscious, checking my face in the mirror.

'I'm waiting.' he says, his gaze never faltering. His eyes seem to read beneath my outer facade. Reading my thoughts and emotions, I feel vulnerable and exposed.

'For?' I manage to say, my voice weak. I don't want him to know how wildly my heart is beating. He cannot read me. My hands head up to my hair tugging out the clips which have held my bun in place while my eyes remain transfixed on his.

He takes a step so that he is right behind me if I lean it would be against his chest. I'm careful not to move. I think I don't breathe.

His eyes don't release me as he reaches up and pulls the last pin. My hair comes tumbling down in black waves cascading to my waist.

'For this.' He says curling a strand between his fingers, a small smile on his face, 'It is like watching beauty unfold.'

***

It is a slow Monday morning, it has been a while since I have visited Lisa. I miss her. I make a quick decision to go to Smile. Maaz has already left for work. I find Henry in the outhouse and he agrees to drive me.

An hour later we arrive at Smile. I bound inside, impatient to meet Lisa. Aylin, as usual greets me at the reception.

I begin to walk down the hallway to the breakfast hall. It is ten a.m. and I expect to find Lisa there. Aylin hurries to stand in front of me, blocking my way, her eyes wander around the place.

'What?' I ask her.

She scratches her neck and shuffles on her feet. 'You... can not.'

'Can't?' I hedge. I have not forgotten my last visit when the jerk Amaro had called security on me. Now does he think he can put on a ban on me?

'No visitors allowed.' She says.

'What the...' My voice rises.

'I can't let you in.'

'Says who?' I snap.

'Mr. Amaro.'

'Excuse me? I have been volunteering since the past five years of my life.' I hold up five fingers.

'Yes, but these are the new rules. Visitor timings are from four to five.' She explains.

'Volunteers aren't visitors. They are people who have jobs, responsibilities and yet make time to give much deserved love and care to these kids. They are not merely volunteers as you call them. They are father and mother figures to the children.' I hope I sound intimidating.

'Move aside.' My voice is threatening but she stays put.

'Your Amaro.' I spit the name out. '..has no rights to snatch away that love that the kids deserve.'

'Rules are rules.' she says simply. I cannot understand how such a cold-hearted person can be installed in a place that should have its foundation on love.

Knowing there is no point, and I will have to figure some other way out I turn back. I find the Amaro himself, standing near the door of his office, no doubt having heard the conversation.

He smirks at me, riling me further. I choose to strategize rather than scream at him.

***