part of me that wants nothing more than to do that. However, you need to
Too Little Too Late Complete Hausa Novel · about 34 min read
understand that the sanctuary of our relationship has been tainted, soiled,
and broken and I can’t look past it no matter how hard I’ll try. I’ll never be
able to.”
His entire body shook with his cries while her tears flowed silently,
streaming down both her cheeks and dampening his hair. “I have no doubt
you’ll do everything and anything, Ibrahim, no matter how or what it is but
the thing is that I’ll always wonder if you’ve done this before, long before I
came into your life.”
He shook his head. “Ayra, no…”
“I’ll wonder if Bella enjoyed this too and each time you look at me,
especially during and after intimacy, I’ll wonder if you did this with Bella
too and then try to count just how many times she’d been blessed with the
beautiful view of your sleeping face while she laid by your side. I’ll do all of
that, Ibrahim, and each time you paint, I’ll be reminded that you painted her
first and that the entire time we were married, until you brought yourself to
take the painting out, her face took up a space in your room and in the
apartment you two owned until you fell out with the squad. You painted the
both of you and hung it in so many places while we didn’t even have our
wedding portraits on any wall until recently.”
Ibrahim had nothing left to hold on to but he kept trying, to reach out to
something – anything – no matter what it was. “Ayra, please.”
“That’s not how I want to live the rest of my life, Ibrahim. I don’t want to
kill myself little by little until I’m an empty shell and I don’t want to kill you
too because we’ll both be miserable. You’ll do everything to make it right
and I’ll see it all, no matter the lengths you’d go to, as too little; as though
it’ll never be enough. I can’t do that, Ibrahim, so please…Please let’s end
this, no matter how painful it’s going to be. This is me begging you,
Ibrahim. Please.”
He wanted to hit his chest so badly, over and over again, but he didn’t. He
kept his arms around her legs and shook his head yet again, refusing to let
go. “Ayra please…” His confession which he had been saving until he was
worthy enough to say it to her after ensuring he showed it through his every
action slipped past his lips in a whisper she nearly missed. “I love you.”
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That was Ayra’s final nail in the coffin and if she’d been repeatedly killed
before, she was resurrected then only to be murdered again. She shut her
eyes tightly; knowing what she was going to say next was a half lie and a
half truth that would hurt them in different degrees and in different ways
but with pain all the same. It was the only way.
“I don’t love you, Ibrahim.” The knives in her chest moved and sliced her
to pieces. She felt him still and although it was the worst thing she’d ever
done, she delivered the next words. “Not anymore.”
A moment of eerie silence passed before Ibrahim wailed and there was no
doubt the sound – laced with raw pain, devastation, and sorrow – was going
to haunt her for a very long time.
She pushed back the tears and then made one final request. “I need you to
tell me the truth, Ibrahim. Please…All of it.”
Knowing there was no going back from any of it, Ibrahim told her
everything; from the earliest childhood memory he had down to that very
moment where the both of them fell apart.
Two hours later, two doors in houses in two different parts of Aomi went
open. In Monwict, Fareeda’s smile disappeared when her son raised her
head, beyond broken with a face that was still devoid of colour and eyes
that had cried until his tear ducts dried. Her chest squeezed and she let go
of the door handle just so she could step forward, reaching out to cup his
face. “I-Ibrahim? Ibrahim, what happened to you?”
Not knowing how he still had tears left, Ibrahim began to cry.
In Plum Boulevard, Ibtihaj’s heart broke at the sight of her best friend.
Ayra managed a smile, her every façade broken and tossed aside. Her hands
were together, in front of her, and her eyes shone with fresh tears. “Hello,
Ibty. Sorry I came here so late. I –”
Ibtihaj hugged her and made sure her embrace was tight. “Let it all out,
Ayra. It’s alright.”
Ayra did not need to be told twice. In her parents’ home, which she was to
return to in a little while, Salama lay in her husband’s embrace, allowing him
repeatedly pat her back while she prayed that their daughter was alright.
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53
The car came to a stop in front of the Abdulaziz compound at Haven
Estate and Ibrahim was certain he did not want to leave the vehicle, not
when he knew he was not ready to face his in-laws; not when he’d broken
their daughter after promising to love, cherish, and honour her for the rest
of their lives.
A warm hand closed around his and slowly, as though his body was still
booting like a freshly powered machine, he turned to look at his father who
sat beside him. Salim offered a small smile, his squeeze gentle. “You can do
this, okay? We’ll be right there with you every step of the way.”
In the front passenger seat, Fareeda had turned to look at both men that
she loved. She nodded, her smile as small as Salim’s. “We’ll be there,
Ibrahim. We promise.”
The tears slightly blurred Ibrahim’s vision and he had to blow out a breath,
following it with another just so he didn’t break down there and then for
the umpteenth time in less than twenty-four hours. He took two minutes to
gather courage before he nodded at his parents; a small nod but a nod all
the same. Salim squeezed his son’s hand once more before he let go.
The car doors went open at the same time and each member of the family
of three got down, leaving the driver within. They all wore black; Fareeda in
a black abaya and its complimenting veil while father and son wore
matching trousers, turtlenecks, and the same coat with boots on their feet.
They helped themselves into the compound and their footsteps seemed
louder as they ascended the front stairs. Before Salim could ring the
doorbell, the door went open and Salama – with eyes that showed just how
much she’d cried and skin that was a near shade paler – managed to give
them a small smile.
Ibrahim felt a fresh stab of pain and it twisted. He wondered what he would
say or how he’d address her because he no longer felt worthy of calling her
Mum, not when he’d tainted his image and the trust they had in him. The
silence stretched until Fareeda broke it. Her smile was smaller than Salama’s
and a sheen of tears made her eyes glassy. “Assalam Alaykum, Salama.”
Salama swallowed and tears began to well up in her eyes which only further
made Ibrahim feel worse. “Waalaykum Salam, Fareeda.” She stepped aside.
“Please come in. Everyone is waiting for you in the living room.”
Fareeda stepped in first and Salim followed. Ibrahim, in shame, lowered his
head and stepped over the threshold. The memories hit then; the first time
he’d stepped into the house back in 2013, his and Ayra’s engagement party,
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the way he’d rushed back when his family members nearly blew up the
plans he and the squad had which caused him to act fast, the times he came
over to drop her – Ayra – off and to also discuss the wedding plans with
Salama and her team, the wedding itself, and every time he’d visited since
then.
The house was unusually quiet and it weighed down on him. His mind went
back to his and Ayra’s wedding and how beautiful it’d been although he’d
paid attention to the details just so his acting wouldn’t slip, knowing that
when it was over he was to go spend the night with Bella and the others
while Ayra stayed at home. Back then, the thrill had been exhilarating and
the lies had been perfect. In that moment, as they stepped into the living
room, Ibrahim regretted it all and wished – with everything he had – that he
could turn back time to make every wrong right.
Muhsin, Al-Amin, and Falilat sat in the living room, the atmosphere sombre
and the space quiet. Salama stepped in after the Fahads, her small smile still
on. “Please have a seat. There’s tea if you’d like.”
Salim and Fareeda offered salams which were responded to before they –
clearly humbly – sat on a loveseat, knowing better than to be overly
comfortable with the situation at hand. Ibrahim stayed standing and
Salama’s smile disappeared as she sat beside her husband, her hand
naturally finding his. “Ibrahim? Why don’t you –”
Ibrahim went on his knees, the impact of his knees hitting the ground
producing a soft thud that was louder than normal with the silence of the
room. He brought his hands together just as his tears broke free, a sob
slipping past his lips. “I am so sorry…I’m very, very sorry.”
Falilat looked away, blinking back tears while Al-Amin squeezed her hand
gently. Salim and Fareeda lowered their heads, keeping their tears at bay.
Muhsin and Salama just stared at Ibrahim, their pain as clear as day.
Remaining on his knees, Ibrahim cried harder. “I’m sorry, Mum and Dad.
I’m really, really, really sorry.”
The minute that passed was silent and long. With a sigh, Muhsin let go of
his wife’s hand and pushed himself off the sofa. Kneeling in front of the
male he’d welcomed into his family with open arms, Muhsin hugged
Ibrahim and let a moment go by before he began to pat Ibrahim’s back.
“It’s okay, Ibrahim.” He said softly. “In Shaa Allah it’s going to be okay.”
That was Fareeda’s breaking point and she buried her face in her hands as
she began to cry. In Muhsin’s embrace, Ibrahim simply cried harder, drilling
it into his head that he did not deserve the Abdulazizs. Muhsin held him
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while Salama did well in holding most of her tears at bay, wiping each one
that slipped free. Salim rubbed his wife’s back while Al-Amin consoled
Falilat who cried quietly.
A long while later, when tears had been shed and tea had been served,
Muhsin exhaled. He was back to sitting beside Salama while Ibrahim
occupied a single seater, his handkerchief tightly clutched in his hands.
“Last month,” Muhsin began. “When Ayra let Salama and Falilat know she
was travelling and why she was travelling, I wasn’t home. Coming home to
the news and to meet my wife in too much shock that she couldn’t do
much except cry is not something I’ll wish on anyone, not even my worst
enemy. As a family, both mine and the Adeolas, we welcomed you,
Ibrahim, because our families had known each other for years. Also, Ayra
had loved you for so long and it made us happy to know that at the end of
the day, her one sided love wasn’t going to end up hurting her. At that time,
we were convinced that all was going to be okay. That’s how genuinely
happy we were for the both of you, Ibrahim. That’s how much we never
thought this would happen, especially with how sincere your intentions
seemed.”
Ibrahim held the handkerchief tighter, keeping his head lowered. Muhsin
continued. “It broke me, Ibrahim, and I pray such never happens again
because there’s only so much my heart can take, especially when it comes to
Ayra. All she ever did was love you with everything had and if you were to
repay her with anything, it shouldn’t have been this. Even if it had been
someone else, it should never have been this. You can’t chain someone to a
commitment for selfish reasons and you can’t make promises you know
you’ll never be to keep unless your feelings shift. You can never do that.
You should never do that.”
Ibrahim let his tears flow, pain his trustworthy companion. Muhsin had
more to say.
“No matter who had come up with the idea back in 2019, you should have
put your foot down against it. A lifetime commitment is a big deal whether
it is for genuine or insincere reasons and it’s not something that you and
your friends should have taken lightly. At the end of the day, see how it all
played out. In trying to outsmart everyone, you got tangled up in your lies
and you lost yourself until you decided to take back charge of things. The
friends you’d married Ayra for are no longer with you, the relationship you
married Ayra to hide has broken, and now you and Ayra are on your way to
separating. Do you see the consequences of your actions now, Ibrahim? Do
you see why such things shouldn’t be done?”
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Ibrahim saw it all too well and all he wanted was one more chance to make
everything right but that was a farfetched dream and even he knew it.
Where he sat, Salim was shaken by Muhsin’s words and he recalled how
time and time again, he’d nearly lost Fareeda. Both of them – he and
Fareeda – had been lucky to make it out of their sad history but Ibrahim
wasn’t lucky and it repeatedly punched Salim squarely in the gut.
“If this meeting had happened before Ayra travelled with Ibty, I can assure
you that we wouldn’t have been so calm. But Ayra –” Muhsin’s voice broke
and he held onto his wife’s hand for dear life. “Ayra, may Allah bless her
soul, asked us to be patient and to wait until she’d uncovered everything.
Until she found out all that had happened and why she’d come into the
picture.”
He paused to breathe. “When she was away, your issue with the squad and
with the company happened and I told Salama, Al-Amin, and Falilat that
maybe this was Allah already dealing with you and carving out another path
for you. When Ayra returned, she wasn’t mad or even angry about all you’d
done. She was broken, that much was inevitable, but the same woman
you’d hurt only wanted to help you get back on your feet because she’d
heard and she’d seen that without the squad and without the whispers of
your past and the rocky relationship with your parents, you were the
sweetest soul. This is the woman you hurt, Ibrahim, still wanting the best
for you even when it killed her inside. This is the person who genuinely
loved you.”
Ibrahim had thought he’d reached his threshold limit for pain but every
word Muhsin uttered and the gravity of the truth the words held proved
him wrong.
Muhsin sniffled, the tears in his eyes shimmering. “When the person who
was hurt has such a mindset, what then can we do? We can’t scream at you,
we can’t even physically try to harm you, and we can’t even just cut you off.
We can’t make a scene and ruin your reputation. We can’t do any of that,
no matter how tempting some options were, because that would have been
us acting out of character and it would only have hurt Ayra more.”
Ibrahim reminded himself again that he did not deserve them, at all.
“If all of us could turn back the hands of time to ensure this didn’t end up
happening, we would. However, all has been said and done and we can only
move on to this best of our abilities. So on that note,” Muhsin put his
hands together, tempted to go on his knees. A tear slipped and slid down
his cheek. “This is me begging you as a father, Ibrahim, and as a man who’d
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do anything for his family. I know, with the man you’re turning out to be,
this would hurt you but…Please let my daughter go.”
Ibrahim cried harder and every other person in the room did one thing or
the other to curtail their tears and sobs. Muhsin sniffled again, his hands
still held together in front of him. “Please let Ayra go. I have no doubt that
you’re ready to do everything possible to make it up to her but
please…Please don’t make this any harder for the both of you, especially
her. Please, Ibrahim. I am begging you. Please let my daughter go.”
Unable to stop his broken pieces from shattering further, Ibrahim buried
his face in his hands and just like he’d done the previous night with Ayra,
he wailed.
♣
Ayra knew who it was when a soft knock interrupted the peace and quiet of
her room. She didn’t think anything more could hurt her but Ibrahim’s
voice – frail and unsure – did.
“Ayra?”
She let a moment pass before she pushed herself to a sitting position,
causing Ibtihaj’s hand to fall from her hair. Ibtihaj reached for her lycra cap
and covered her cornrows with it as she said “If you want me to tell him
you don’t want to see him, I will, and if you need me to knock sense into
him, just say the word. Let me know what you want, Ayra, and I’ll do it. I
promise. I owe him a slap anyway.”
Ayra shook her head, cracking a small smile. “Please just help me open the
door. I can’t avoid him forever.”
“And I’m guessing you’d want to talk with him alone.”
“Yes please. Sorry, Ibty.”
Ibtihaj got off the bed, her smile warm and sincere. “Come off it jor. I’ll still
slap him sha. I cannot have been angry all this time for nothing.”
Ayra’s chest twisted as she said “Don’t let it hurt too much, please.”
Ibtihaj’s smile turned sad and she simply nodded before she walked over to
the door and pulled it open. Ibrahim raised his head and for a brief
moment, Ibtihaj felt genuinely sorry for him; for all he’d gone through and
for all he was going to go through. Pushing down the emotion, she masked
her expression and raised a brow. “Ibrahim Fahad.”
Ibrahim couldn’t bring himself to even fake a smile. The apology rolled off
his tongue without any hesitation. “I’m really sorry, Ibty.”
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“I know, I know.” Ibtihaj said. She sighed. “I know you are but I’ll still do
and say what I wanted to do and say as at the time I found out. I hope you
can understand.”
Lowering his head, Ibrahim nodded once. “I can.”
“Good.”
A moment later, her hand harshly made contact with his cheek and
although she’d softened it slightly, the slap stung Ibrahim and broke him
even more. He swallowed, knowing he deserved it.
“You were a very wicked person, Ibrahim Fahad.” She told him. “And if
this encounter happened back when you dropped Ayra off for that
sleepover, I would have murdered you in cold blood. However, a lot has
happened between now and then, and even though I want to beat you, I
can’t bring myself to do every single thing I wanted. It’s only for you sha
because if I jam those your former friends, walai it is in police station I will
end up for the crimes I’ll commit.”
Ibrahim stayed quiet, keeping his blurred vision trained on the ground.
Ibtihaj sighed. “You all have done enough and while I don’t really pity you
for everything that happened, I’m just glad you got sense. It still vexes me
that you fell in love with Ayra when everything had gone wrong and I’m
sorry but I don’t feel bad for you that this is ending in tears. The only
person I feel bad for is Ayra. I hope you understand that.”
Ibrahim nodded again. “I do…I’m sorry, Ibty.”
“Abeg it’s okay.” Ibtihaj did not like how her chest squeezed. “It’s okay éjor.
Don’t apologise again abeg.” She then stepped away from the door. “She’s
inside. I’m sure our parents have already pleaded with you to let Ayra go so
I won’t repeat all they said. Just, please…Ayra’s been through too much
with you and let’s not make things harder for the both of you. You’re better
off apart, not together, so please don’t be difficult. Ayra needs to heal from
all of this and…And so do you. So please, Ibrahim. Please let my best
friend go. It’s God I’m using to beg you.”
He could only nod, a lump in his throat that was thick with emotions. She
walked a minute later and he sniffled, inhaled and exhaled thrice, before he
pushed the door further open and stepped into Ayra’s room. In the few
times he’d stepped into the space, he’d barely paid any attention. However,
right in that moment with the painful realisation that they were facing a
separation, Ibrahim took in everything; from the pastel shades that went
well together to the little things here and there that screamed Ayra!
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She was the last thing he focused on and seeing her without the mask she’d
been wearing for months was extremely humbling. It was damaging too.
Her eyes had lost their colour and she was a shadow of the woman he’d
married. He saw it clearly; the hurt, the exhaustion, and the sorrow.
Knowing he was the main cause of all of it shattered him to pieces.
Ayra sat on the edge of the bed, her hands on her laps. Her hair was in a
single braid and she wore an ombré boubou which Falilat had gifted her the
previous year. She tried to smile but did not fully succeed. “Hello, Ibrahim.”
Ibrahim sniffled and forced himself to put one leg in front of the other.
When he stopped in front of her, he squatted and just like her, he tried to
smile but failed. “Hi, Ayra.”
A fresh wave of pain hit and she held her hands tighter together. Ibrahim
simply stared at her, committing every single detail to memory; her flawless
almond brown skin, her doe eyes and how bright they could be, her button
nose, her heart shaped lips, the dimples that flickered on both cheeks now
that she was not smiling, the collarbones that deserved to classified as
royalty, her slender hands and nails she always kept short, and her feet
which would always amaze him as they were way smaller than his, perfect
enough for her size.
He stared at home for a moment before he brought his gaze back up to her
face. A dull cramp began in his legs so he moved from squatting to
kneeling. Unable to help himself, he took her hands in his and stared at
them, committing the image to memory too. He was going to paint her for
a long time. That much was clear.
Every little memory his brain had stored played in his head then; her every
laugh, her every gasp, her genuine interest in every single thing he had to
say, her selfless acts which had all been for him, and then her every tear. It
played like a movie that he loved and hated and when it finished, it played
again. When it finished the second time, he raised his head and his eyes met
hers.
He swallowed. “I love you, Ayra.”
Her hurt killed him. “Ibrahim –”
“I’m not asking you to say it back, Ayra, and I’m not telling you because I
want you to change your mind as that’s not going to happen. It’s clear
now.”
Her chest twisted again while he continued. “I’m telling you because I want
you to know that although I didn’t love you for months, I love you now
and I’m sorry it’s coming too late. I’m sorry for not seeing you although
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523
you were right in front of me until you changed due to what you
discovered. I’m sorry, Ayra. I’m really sorry.”
Her tears were impossible to hold back so she let them be. He let his be
too.
“I hate it so much that I’ve hurt you more than I even know and like you
said, I’m ready to do everything and anything to make it right but…” The
knives in his chest dug deeper and deeper. “But I don’t want to hurt you
even further. It’s going to kill me to let you go, Ayra, but…But it’s getting
clearer and clearer that I’m going to have to. I can’t burn the world for you
if all it’s going to do is hurt you even more. I’ve done more than enough,
Ayra, and I don’t – I can’t do more.”
Her tears flowed. His did too.
“This hurts a lot, Ayra, and I don’t know how I’m going to survive all of
this but you’re my main priority now and if this is the only way to make
things right, then I don’t have any other choice. I’m so sorry, Ayra. I’m so,
so sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”
And just like the previous night, she held him close with her lips in his hair
and tears streaming down her cheek while his new scent stuck to her; wood
and spice, a combination she would associate with him until she moved on;
if she ever moved on.
When Ibrahim’s tears subsided, he raised his head to look at her, their faces
mere inches apart and it struck him that she was a very beautiful woman.
He’d just been too blind for a long time to see it.
“Please give me three days, Ayra.”
Her stomach dipped. “Ibrahim…”
“I’m not going to try to change your mind, I promise, and I’m not going to
do anything funny. Just please…”He brought his hands up and put them
together, pleading. “Just please stay with me for three more days and let me
get to say bye. Just three days, Ayra, I’m begging you and then I’ll do
whatever you want. Just three days, Ayra. Please…Please.”
She wanted to say no because she knew that if she gave in and the three
days came to an end, it’ll leave them with too much heartache and pain. It
was going to end in tears and she should have said no but…she couldn’t,
not when he begged so earnestly and not when the pain in his eyes reflected
hers.
“Please, Ayra.”
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She sniffled and nodded once. “Three days, Ibrahim. Nothing more.”
He nodded, too deep in everything to even feel much relief. Excitement
was a non-existent emotion and it terrified him to realise that he may never
feel it again. He rested his head on her laps and allowed her kiss his hair.
His words were a whisper.
“I love you, Ayra. In Shaa Allah I’m going to love you for as long as I can.”
“I know.” Her reply hurt her too. “I know it all too well.”
And deep inside of her, a part of her screamed at the top of her lungs with
tears in her eyes that she loved him too.
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54
Ibrahim took Ayra home that evening and the thrill of the new place had
disappeared with the events that had happened and the events that were yet
to happen. With only mere hours to their end, Ibrahim was determined to
make every moment count.
They watched the sunset together, as quiet as they had been throughout the
ride from her parents’ house to what would have been theirs, and Ibrahim
committed to memory how perfectly they’d always fit with her sitting
between his legs and her back flush against his front.
They prayed both Maghrib and Isha in the mosque and they had dinner
together at a restaurant, talking about the things that caught their attention
just so the silence didn’t continue. When they got back to the house, they
showered together and when they kissed, their tears stained it, and Ayra let
him lead her out of the bathroom to the bed where he proceeded to make
love to her, ensuring he got everything right.
When she fell asleep much later, Ibrahim stared at her for the longest time
and then he cried until there was no more tear to shed and a headache
threatened to split his head in two.
Dawn took its time to arrive and they caught the sunset while sipping tea.
Silence had once again descended between them and Ibrahim did all he
could to curtail his tears but they still broke free and he occasionally moved
his hand away from the mug to wipe them away. In the chair she occupied,
Ayra cried too. They ate breakfast, took a long walk on the beach, and then
painted the scenery together; stopping at intervals to pray, eat, and cry while
thinking the other person couldn’t see.
On their second day, Ayra asked to visit The Hexad as she’d never been
there before and she wanted to know how it looked like before she added it
to the list of places she’d never visit unless it was extremely important.
Although it was the last place he wanted to go in his life, especially when he
remembered what Bella had said about Ayra leaving him, Ibrahim got
dressed and drove her there himself. Thankfully, the squad was out to meet
with some board members concerning the future of the company so
Ibrahim took Ayra round and showed her every single nook and cranny of
the structure he knew like the back of his hand.
In every office that belonged to a member of the squad, she dropped letters
that Ibrahim didn’t know she’d written and then she let know that she’d
sent Serkan’s and Aliana’s to them in Amsterdam.
“I never planned to write.” She told him. “But the words wouldn’t leave my
head and I didn’t want them to keep disturbing me. I don’t care what they
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do with the letters, honestly. It’s just me seeking a closure and this should
be good enough.”
Ibrahim found the nearest restroom after that and cried. After Zuhr, they
had lunch at a pizzeria and then aimlessly drove around Aomi, their hands
held together between the seats. They didn’t return home until long after
Isha had been prayed. They had their bath and then returned to the living
room and with his chest still torn wide open, Ibrahim asked Ayra to explain
to him the process of Khula’ where a Muslim woman requested a divorce
from her husband.
Ayra explained it to him the same way Yunus and Maya had explained it to
her; in the simplest form so everything was clear and there was no
confusion. The silence that followed when she finished was heavy and it
weighed down on the both of them.
It felt like forever before Ibrahim quietly asked “What if I don’t want the
mehr back?”
Her stomach – and her heart – dipped. “Ibrahim –”
He held her watery gaze with his. “I don’t want the mehr back, Ayra. It was
my gift to you and although I wasn’t completely sincere then, I’m not taking
it back. I can’t take it back, not with everything that has happened between
us; both the good and the bad. It’ll kill me to do so, so please…Please don’t
give it back, Ayra. I’m begging you.”
It was a long moment before Ayra brought herself to nod, sniffling before
she said “Okay, Ibrahim, I won’t give it back.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
That night, neither of them slept much but they stayed in each other’s
embrace, none of them willing to let go unless it was necessary. After Fajr,
they made their respective cups of the tea. Their movements were slow as
they knew it would be their last morning making tea together.
The sunrise was stunning but they barely saw it with how hard both of
them tried not to cry. When the magic of nature passed and the sun rose
higher and higher in the sky, Ibrahim mustered the courage to ask what
Ayra’s next step was going to be.
It took her a minute to give him a reply. Her line of sight did not leave the
deep blue ocean in the distance. “I have all my plans written out on a piece
of paper but I can’t say I’ve gotten around really looking at them. I’ve been
exhausted for a long time now, Ibrahim, especially with all the acting I’ve
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done so the most pressing need for me now is to rest as much as I can. I
can deal with everything else later. I just want to rest now.”
Once again, Ibrahim felt like a monster. “I’m sorry.”
Her smile was small but extremely sad. “I know, Ibrahim…I’m sorry too.”
“You have nothing to apologise for, Ayra, so please never say sorry to me.
I’m the one who should be apologising for the rest of my life.”
She turned her head to look at him and he did the same. A minute passed
with their gazes locked before they looked away, back towards the sea. She
then asked what his plans were and he told her the honest truth.
“I’m going to make myself someone you’ll always be proud of, Ayra, no
matter what.”
Her chest – torn and battered – squeezed painfully. She wrapped her fingers
tighter around the mug she held, wanting to cry once again. Ibrahim blinked
his own tears back, his smile as small and sad as hers had been.
“I’m going to take my time to draw up my plans, using the ideas you gave
and then I’m going to ensure I become someone you’ll always be proud of,
Ayra. That’s what I’m going to spend the rest of my life doing, I promise.”
A tear – despite how hard she tried to hold it back – slipped and slid down
her cheek, glistening when a sun ray hit it. She sniffled. “I have no doubt
you’re going to do well, Ibrahim. I have no doubt about it at all.”
Ibrahim – once again – was bleeding. He stared at his tea which had long
gone cold. “I have no doubt you’ll do well too. You’ve always been a
shining star, Ayra, and I’m so sorry I dimmed your light with everything I
did and every lie I told. I’m always going to be sorry.”
Her tears kept coming and they fell into her mug, mixing with her tea. She
sniffled again. “I’ll be okay, Ibrahim.” She didn’t believe her words one bit.
“No matter how long it takes, I’ll be okay…You’ll be okay too.”
Ibrahim began to cry all over again.
Throughout the day, he held her in his embrace no matter what they did.
He told her over and over that he loved her and that he was always going to
for as long as Allah spared his life. Then he apologised over and over,
telling her he was sorry for every single thing he’d missed and for every
single thing he’d said and for every single thing he’d taken for granted. He
promised, over and over, that he’d do better every single day and then he
blessed her with little kisses, committing every inch of her – for the
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millionth time – to memory as the memories were all he would have left
after the day ended.
He cried repeatedly and Ayra did too, saying it deep, deep inside that she
still loved him too; not as much as she used to but she loved him all the
same. Like he wished her well, she did the same for him and she had no
doubt that he was going to do well. He was going to be alright too, no
matter how long it ended up taking.
After Isha, while others left Masjid An-Nur, Ibrahim walked to the empty
female section where Ayra was and knelt in front of her, his movements
that of a man resigned to his fate while his heart – and every other part of
him – painfully wailed.
He smiled at her, his eyes shining with tears. “Assalam Alaykum, Ayra.”
Ayra smiled back, her eyes just as bright. “Waalaykum Salam, Ibrahim.”
“I hope someday, no matter how much time passes, if our paths cross, we
can sit together to have tea and talk about how our lives had gone. We can
do that, right?”
Her smile stretched a little. She nodded. “Of course we can. I’d love that.”
“I’ll look forward to that day.”
“In Shaa Allah.”
He committed her every detail – yet again – to memory and then looked
away to blow out a breath. Regaining composure and keeping a tight leash
on his tears, he exhaled once again and turned back to her, the words “this is
it” loud in his head.
They smiled at each other and a minute passed before he nodded once.
Exhaling shakily, Ayra nodded too. Another minute passed before Ayra
requested for her divorce and Ibrahim uttered the words of separation
although every syllable punched him squarely in his gut and killed him
inside.
He let her go and the rope that held them as one snapped, never to be
joined together again.
♣
The divorce of Ayra Leilani Abdulaziz and Ibrahim Fahad was announced
to the public two weeks after the actual separation, as requested by both
Ibrahim and Ayra. The two weeks had given them time to clear their social
media pages (in Ibrahim’s case so he could start on a fresh slate) and
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privatise their accounts (in Ayra’s case and for Ibrahim’s new accounts he
didn’t want the world following). It gave them time to grieve too.
The news shook the world and so many people had questions although the
press statement released by the Fahads stated that the separation had been
mutually done and that both Ibrahim and Ayra were on good terms with
each other. The family, just as they did when Ibrahim cut the squad off and
left The Hexad, asked the public to leave both Ayra and Ibrahim alone so
they could deal with everything at their pace without having to deal with the
ever prying eye of the media.
It was easier said than done though as media personnel flooded Haven
Estate and The Oasis, having no idea Ibrahim no longer lived there. When
it got really bad, security teams were deployed to keep the media personnel
out and lawsuits were filed which made a lot of the media houses pull back
their reporters and camera men and women.
The squad – what was left of it – reached out to Ibrahim and taunted him
with their haughty messages. He ignored the messages but it only made
them angrier and they intensified their attempts to reach him, telling him
that the woman he’d left them for ended up leaving him and that he wasn’t
going to survive on his own. They told him he’d die a lonely man locked in
the confines of his own prison with nothing and no one to mourn him.
When it became obvious they were not going to stop stooping lower and
lower, Ibrahim had his legal team hit them with one lawsuit after the other
and also with restriction orders. It damaged The Hexad’s public image and
led to a roll crises that went beyond what the squad could control and so
many people – stakeholders, investors, and even members of the public –
asked Ibrahim to make a comeback, no matter how small he wanted it to
be. They promised to wait for him and to support him once he was ready.
On Friday, December 3rd which was the same day Ayra received an email
for her interview at Ayneese, Ibrahim called for a press conference after
Jumm’ah. As it was his first public address since the divorce, every person
looked forward to it. When the time came, Ayra left her room at her
family’s home and headed down to the second living room so she could
watch the press conference too.
At his parents’ mansion from where he was to address the general public,
Ibrahim stepped out of the main doors and smiled at the sea of journalists
and reporters, the camera flashes momentarily blinding. He was in his
signature outfit; loose trousers, a turtleneck that had been tucked into the
trousers’ waistband, and boots on his feet. He had chosen to forgo his coat.
His hair was longer and the curls were more pronounced. His stubble was
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as neat as ever and while he seemed the same, there was a beautiful humility
that wrapped itself around him like a cloak and pulled people in.
His smile was small and he spoke into the microphone that had been set up
while Salim and Fareeda stepped out of the house and stood on either side
of him, their smiles small too.
“I’d like to thank everyone for coming out here even on short notice.”
Ibrahim said, his words coming out calm and collected. He put his hands
together behind him. “I’d also like to thank the public for the comeback
requests I have received and also for the support I’ve been promised. I
appreciate all of it although I feel undeserving on most days. I’m working
on it so hopefully, you’ll be hearing from me soon.”
He paused to exhale. A moment passed before he spoke again. “Before
that, there’s an initiative I’ll be launching by next week and that is the main
reason I’m here today. It’s a foundation to help mostly women but also
inclusive to any person who needs it. It’s to cater for those who are not
privileged enough to cover one expense or the other. I don’t want to
generalise any person in that category a needy person but sometimes there
are circumstances that are beyond our control which may cause a restraint
or the other so…”
He scanned the sea of reporters present. “I hope this foundation can come
to the aid of such person and help ease the burden, no matter how little it’ll
be. It’s also for people who have loved but had to leave because they
deserve better. We hope to help you find your footing and get you settled
on your new path, just like how the woman I love did for me.”
The cameras kept flashing and the reporters typed and scribbled furiously,
not willing to miss a single detail. Some of them were teary-eyed and around
the country, many of those watching were teary-eyed too. In the second
living room at the Abdulaziz home, Ayra’s small smile stretched when
Salama put her hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently.
Back at the Fahad mansion, Ibrahim smiled a little wider and stared straight
into one of the cameras.
“Out of every initiative I’ll have from this very day, I hope this one gets
your full support…Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to
introduce to you The Leilani Foundation, in honour of the woman I was
privileged to be married to; a woman I’m going to love all my life, no matter
what…”
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and broken and I can’t look past it no matter how hard I’ll try. I’ll never be
able to.”
His entire body shook with his cries while her tears flowed silently,
streaming down both her cheeks and dampening his hair. “I have no doubt
you’ll do everything and anything, Ibrahim, no matter how or what it is but
the thing is that I’ll always wonder if you’ve done this before, long before I
came into your life.”
He shook his head. “Ayra, no…”
“I’ll wonder if Bella enjoyed this too and each time you look at me,
especially during and after intimacy, I’ll wonder if you did this with Bella
too and then try to count just how many times she’d been blessed with the
beautiful view of your sleeping face while she laid by your side. I’ll do all of
that, Ibrahim, and each time you paint, I’ll be reminded that you painted her
first and that the entire time we were married, until you brought yourself to
take the painting out, her face took up a space in your room and in the
apartment you two owned until you fell out with the squad. You painted the
both of you and hung it in so many places while we didn’t even have our
wedding portraits on any wall until recently.”
Ibrahim had nothing left to hold on to but he kept trying, to reach out to
something – anything – no matter what it was. “Ayra, please.”
“That’s not how I want to live the rest of my life, Ibrahim. I don’t want to
kill myself little by little until I’m an empty shell and I don’t want to kill you
too because we’ll both be miserable. You’ll do everything to make it right
and I’ll see it all, no matter the lengths you’d go to, as too little; as though
it’ll never be enough. I can’t do that, Ibrahim, so please…Please let’s end
this, no matter how painful it’s going to be. This is me begging you,
Ibrahim. Please.”
He wanted to hit his chest so badly, over and over again, but he didn’t. He
kept his arms around her legs and shook his head yet again, refusing to let
go. “Ayra please…” His confession which he had been saving until he was
worthy enough to say it to her after ensuring he showed it through his every
action slipped past his lips in a whisper she nearly missed. “I love you.”
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That was Ayra’s final nail in the coffin and if she’d been repeatedly killed
before, she was resurrected then only to be murdered again. She shut her
eyes tightly; knowing what she was going to say next was a half lie and a
half truth that would hurt them in different degrees and in different ways
but with pain all the same. It was the only way.
“I don’t love you, Ibrahim.” The knives in her chest moved and sliced her
to pieces. She felt him still and although it was the worst thing she’d ever
done, she delivered the next words. “Not anymore.”
A moment of eerie silence passed before Ibrahim wailed and there was no
doubt the sound – laced with raw pain, devastation, and sorrow – was going
to haunt her for a very long time.
She pushed back the tears and then made one final request. “I need you to
tell me the truth, Ibrahim. Please…All of it.”
Knowing there was no going back from any of it, Ibrahim told her
everything; from the earliest childhood memory he had down to that very
moment where the both of them fell apart.
Two hours later, two doors in houses in two different parts of Aomi went
open. In Monwict, Fareeda’s smile disappeared when her son raised her
head, beyond broken with a face that was still devoid of colour and eyes
that had cried until his tear ducts dried. Her chest squeezed and she let go
of the door handle just so she could step forward, reaching out to cup his
face. “I-Ibrahim? Ibrahim, what happened to you?”
Not knowing how he still had tears left, Ibrahim began to cry.
In Plum Boulevard, Ibtihaj’s heart broke at the sight of her best friend.
Ayra managed a smile, her every façade broken and tossed aside. Her hands
were together, in front of her, and her eyes shone with fresh tears. “Hello,
Ibty. Sorry I came here so late. I –”
Ibtihaj hugged her and made sure her embrace was tight. “Let it all out,
Ayra. It’s alright.”
Ayra did not need to be told twice. In her parents’ home, which she was to
return to in a little while, Salama lay in her husband’s embrace, allowing him
repeatedly pat her back while she prayed that their daughter was alright.
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53
The car came to a stop in front of the Abdulaziz compound at Haven
Estate and Ibrahim was certain he did not want to leave the vehicle, not
when he knew he was not ready to face his in-laws; not when he’d broken
their daughter after promising to love, cherish, and honour her for the rest
of their lives.
A warm hand closed around his and slowly, as though his body was still
booting like a freshly powered machine, he turned to look at his father who
sat beside him. Salim offered a small smile, his squeeze gentle. “You can do
this, okay? We’ll be right there with you every step of the way.”
In the front passenger seat, Fareeda had turned to look at both men that
she loved. She nodded, her smile as small as Salim’s. “We’ll be there,
Ibrahim. We promise.”
The tears slightly blurred Ibrahim’s vision and he had to blow out a breath,
following it with another just so he didn’t break down there and then for
the umpteenth time in less than twenty-four hours. He took two minutes to
gather courage before he nodded at his parents; a small nod but a nod all
the same. Salim squeezed his son’s hand once more before he let go.
The car doors went open at the same time and each member of the family
of three got down, leaving the driver within. They all wore black; Fareeda in
a black abaya and its complimenting veil while father and son wore
matching trousers, turtlenecks, and the same coat with boots on their feet.
They helped themselves into the compound and their footsteps seemed
louder as they ascended the front stairs. Before Salim could ring the
doorbell, the door went open and Salama – with eyes that showed just how
much she’d cried and skin that was a near shade paler – managed to give
them a small smile.
Ibrahim felt a fresh stab of pain and it twisted. He wondered what he would
say or how he’d address her because he no longer felt worthy of calling her
Mum, not when he’d tainted his image and the trust they had in him. The
silence stretched until Fareeda broke it. Her smile was smaller than Salama’s
and a sheen of tears made her eyes glassy. “Assalam Alaykum, Salama.”
Salama swallowed and tears began to well up in her eyes which only further
made Ibrahim feel worse. “Waalaykum Salam, Fareeda.” She stepped aside.
“Please come in. Everyone is waiting for you in the living room.”
Fareeda stepped in first and Salim followed. Ibrahim, in shame, lowered his
head and stepped over the threshold. The memories hit then; the first time
he’d stepped into the house back in 2013, his and Ayra’s engagement party,
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the way he’d rushed back when his family members nearly blew up the
plans he and the squad had which caused him to act fast, the times he came
over to drop her – Ayra – off and to also discuss the wedding plans with
Salama and her team, the wedding itself, and every time he’d visited since
then.
The house was unusually quiet and it weighed down on him. His mind went
back to his and Ayra’s wedding and how beautiful it’d been although he’d
paid attention to the details just so his acting wouldn’t slip, knowing that
when it was over he was to go spend the night with Bella and the others
while Ayra stayed at home. Back then, the thrill had been exhilarating and
the lies had been perfect. In that moment, as they stepped into the living
room, Ibrahim regretted it all and wished – with everything he had – that he
could turn back time to make every wrong right.
Muhsin, Al-Amin, and Falilat sat in the living room, the atmosphere sombre
and the space quiet. Salama stepped in after the Fahads, her small smile still
on. “Please have a seat. There’s tea if you’d like.”
Salim and Fareeda offered salams which were responded to before they –
clearly humbly – sat on a loveseat, knowing better than to be overly
comfortable with the situation at hand. Ibrahim stayed standing and
Salama’s smile disappeared as she sat beside her husband, her hand
naturally finding his. “Ibrahim? Why don’t you –”
Ibrahim went on his knees, the impact of his knees hitting the ground
producing a soft thud that was louder than normal with the silence of the
room. He brought his hands together just as his tears broke free, a sob
slipping past his lips. “I am so sorry…I’m very, very sorry.”
Falilat looked away, blinking back tears while Al-Amin squeezed her hand
gently. Salim and Fareeda lowered their heads, keeping their tears at bay.
Muhsin and Salama just stared at Ibrahim, their pain as clear as day.
Remaining on his knees, Ibrahim cried harder. “I’m sorry, Mum and Dad.
I’m really, really, really sorry.”
The minute that passed was silent and long. With a sigh, Muhsin let go of
his wife’s hand and pushed himself off the sofa. Kneeling in front of the
male he’d welcomed into his family with open arms, Muhsin hugged
Ibrahim and let a moment go by before he began to pat Ibrahim’s back.
“It’s okay, Ibrahim.” He said softly. “In Shaa Allah it’s going to be okay.”
That was Fareeda’s breaking point and she buried her face in her hands as
she began to cry. In Muhsin’s embrace, Ibrahim simply cried harder, drilling
it into his head that he did not deserve the Abdulazizs. Muhsin held him
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while Salama did well in holding most of her tears at bay, wiping each one
that slipped free. Salim rubbed his wife’s back while Al-Amin consoled
Falilat who cried quietly.
A long while later, when tears had been shed and tea had been served,
Muhsin exhaled. He was back to sitting beside Salama while Ibrahim
occupied a single seater, his handkerchief tightly clutched in his hands.
“Last month,” Muhsin began. “When Ayra let Salama and Falilat know she
was travelling and why she was travelling, I wasn’t home. Coming home to
the news and to meet my wife in too much shock that she couldn’t do
much except cry is not something I’ll wish on anyone, not even my worst
enemy. As a family, both mine and the Adeolas, we welcomed you,
Ibrahim, because our families had known each other for years. Also, Ayra
had loved you for so long and it made us happy to know that at the end of
the day, her one sided love wasn’t going to end up hurting her. At that time,
we were convinced that all was going to be okay. That’s how genuinely
happy we were for the both of you, Ibrahim. That’s how much we never
thought this would happen, especially with how sincere your intentions
seemed.”
Ibrahim held the handkerchief tighter, keeping his head lowered. Muhsin
continued. “It broke me, Ibrahim, and I pray such never happens again
because there’s only so much my heart can take, especially when it comes to
Ayra. All she ever did was love you with everything had and if you were to
repay her with anything, it shouldn’t have been this. Even if it had been
someone else, it should never have been this. You can’t chain someone to a
commitment for selfish reasons and you can’t make promises you know
you’ll never be to keep unless your feelings shift. You can never do that.
You should never do that.”
Ibrahim let his tears flow, pain his trustworthy companion. Muhsin had
more to say.
“No matter who had come up with the idea back in 2019, you should have
put your foot down against it. A lifetime commitment is a big deal whether
it is for genuine or insincere reasons and it’s not something that you and
your friends should have taken lightly. At the end of the day, see how it all
played out. In trying to outsmart everyone, you got tangled up in your lies
and you lost yourself until you decided to take back charge of things. The
friends you’d married Ayra for are no longer with you, the relationship you
married Ayra to hide has broken, and now you and Ayra are on your way to
separating. Do you see the consequences of your actions now, Ibrahim? Do
you see why such things shouldn’t be done?”
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Ibrahim saw it all too well and all he wanted was one more chance to make
everything right but that was a farfetched dream and even he knew it.
Where he sat, Salim was shaken by Muhsin’s words and he recalled how
time and time again, he’d nearly lost Fareeda. Both of them – he and
Fareeda – had been lucky to make it out of their sad history but Ibrahim
wasn’t lucky and it repeatedly punched Salim squarely in the gut.
“If this meeting had happened before Ayra travelled with Ibty, I can assure
you that we wouldn’t have been so calm. But Ayra –” Muhsin’s voice broke
and he held onto his wife’s hand for dear life. “Ayra, may Allah bless her
soul, asked us to be patient and to wait until she’d uncovered everything.
Until she found out all that had happened and why she’d come into the
picture.”
He paused to breathe. “When she was away, your issue with the squad and
with the company happened and I told Salama, Al-Amin, and Falilat that
maybe this was Allah already dealing with you and carving out another path
for you. When Ayra returned, she wasn’t mad or even angry about all you’d
done. She was broken, that much was inevitable, but the same woman
you’d hurt only wanted to help you get back on your feet because she’d
heard and she’d seen that without the squad and without the whispers of
your past and the rocky relationship with your parents, you were the
sweetest soul. This is the woman you hurt, Ibrahim, still wanting the best
for you even when it killed her inside. This is the person who genuinely
loved you.”
Ibrahim had thought he’d reached his threshold limit for pain but every
word Muhsin uttered and the gravity of the truth the words held proved
him wrong.
Muhsin sniffled, the tears in his eyes shimmering. “When the person who
was hurt has such a mindset, what then can we do? We can’t scream at you,
we can’t even physically try to harm you, and we can’t even just cut you off.
We can’t make a scene and ruin your reputation. We can’t do any of that,
no matter how tempting some options were, because that would have been
us acting out of character and it would only have hurt Ayra more.”
Ibrahim reminded himself again that he did not deserve them, at all.
“If all of us could turn back the hands of time to ensure this didn’t end up
happening, we would. However, all has been said and done and we can only
move on to this best of our abilities. So on that note,” Muhsin put his
hands together, tempted to go on his knees. A tear slipped and slid down
his cheek. “This is me begging you as a father, Ibrahim, and as a man who’d
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do anything for his family. I know, with the man you’re turning out to be,
this would hurt you but…Please let my daughter go.”
Ibrahim cried harder and every other person in the room did one thing or
the other to curtail their tears and sobs. Muhsin sniffled again, his hands
still held together in front of him. “Please let Ayra go. I have no doubt that
you’re ready to do everything possible to make it up to her but
please…Please don’t make this any harder for the both of you, especially
her. Please, Ibrahim. I am begging you. Please let my daughter go.”
Unable to stop his broken pieces from shattering further, Ibrahim buried
his face in his hands and just like he’d done the previous night with Ayra,
he wailed.
♣
Ayra knew who it was when a soft knock interrupted the peace and quiet of
her room. She didn’t think anything more could hurt her but Ibrahim’s
voice – frail and unsure – did.
“Ayra?”
She let a moment pass before she pushed herself to a sitting position,
causing Ibtihaj’s hand to fall from her hair. Ibtihaj reached for her lycra cap
and covered her cornrows with it as she said “If you want me to tell him
you don’t want to see him, I will, and if you need me to knock sense into
him, just say the word. Let me know what you want, Ayra, and I’ll do it. I
promise. I owe him a slap anyway.”
Ayra shook her head, cracking a small smile. “Please just help me open the
door. I can’t avoid him forever.”
“And I’m guessing you’d want to talk with him alone.”
“Yes please. Sorry, Ibty.”
Ibtihaj got off the bed, her smile warm and sincere. “Come off it jor. I’ll still
slap him sha. I cannot have been angry all this time for nothing.”
Ayra’s chest twisted as she said “Don’t let it hurt too much, please.”
Ibtihaj’s smile turned sad and she simply nodded before she walked over to
the door and pulled it open. Ibrahim raised his head and for a brief
moment, Ibtihaj felt genuinely sorry for him; for all he’d gone through and
for all he was going to go through. Pushing down the emotion, she masked
her expression and raised a brow. “Ibrahim Fahad.”
Ibrahim couldn’t bring himself to even fake a smile. The apology rolled off
his tongue without any hesitation. “I’m really sorry, Ibty.”
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“I know, I know.” Ibtihaj said. She sighed. “I know you are but I’ll still do
and say what I wanted to do and say as at the time I found out. I hope you
can understand.”
Lowering his head, Ibrahim nodded once. “I can.”
“Good.”
A moment later, her hand harshly made contact with his cheek and
although she’d softened it slightly, the slap stung Ibrahim and broke him
even more. He swallowed, knowing he deserved it.
“You were a very wicked person, Ibrahim Fahad.” She told him. “And if
this encounter happened back when you dropped Ayra off for that
sleepover, I would have murdered you in cold blood. However, a lot has
happened between now and then, and even though I want to beat you, I
can’t bring myself to do every single thing I wanted. It’s only for you sha
because if I jam those your former friends, walai it is in police station I will
end up for the crimes I’ll commit.”
Ibrahim stayed quiet, keeping his blurred vision trained on the ground.
Ibtihaj sighed. “You all have done enough and while I don’t really pity you
for everything that happened, I’m just glad you got sense. It still vexes me
that you fell in love with Ayra when everything had gone wrong and I’m
sorry but I don’t feel bad for you that this is ending in tears. The only
person I feel bad for is Ayra. I hope you understand that.”
Ibrahim nodded again. “I do…I’m sorry, Ibty.”
“Abeg it’s okay.” Ibtihaj did not like how her chest squeezed. “It’s okay éjor.
Don’t apologise again abeg.” She then stepped away from the door. “She’s
inside. I’m sure our parents have already pleaded with you to let Ayra go so
I won’t repeat all they said. Just, please…Ayra’s been through too much
with you and let’s not make things harder for the both of you. You’re better
off apart, not together, so please don’t be difficult. Ayra needs to heal from
all of this and…And so do you. So please, Ibrahim. Please let my best
friend go. It’s God I’m using to beg you.”
He could only nod, a lump in his throat that was thick with emotions. She
walked a minute later and he sniffled, inhaled and exhaled thrice, before he
pushed the door further open and stepped into Ayra’s room. In the few
times he’d stepped into the space, he’d barely paid any attention. However,
right in that moment with the painful realisation that they were facing a
separation, Ibrahim took in everything; from the pastel shades that went
well together to the little things here and there that screamed Ayra!
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She was the last thing he focused on and seeing her without the mask she’d
been wearing for months was extremely humbling. It was damaging too.
Her eyes had lost their colour and she was a shadow of the woman he’d
married. He saw it clearly; the hurt, the exhaustion, and the sorrow.
Knowing he was the main cause of all of it shattered him to pieces.
Ayra sat on the edge of the bed, her hands on her laps. Her hair was in a
single braid and she wore an ombré boubou which Falilat had gifted her the
previous year. She tried to smile but did not fully succeed. “Hello, Ibrahim.”
Ibrahim sniffled and forced himself to put one leg in front of the other.
When he stopped in front of her, he squatted and just like her, he tried to
smile but failed. “Hi, Ayra.”
A fresh wave of pain hit and she held her hands tighter together. Ibrahim
simply stared at her, committing every single detail to memory; her flawless
almond brown skin, her doe eyes and how bright they could be, her button
nose, her heart shaped lips, the dimples that flickered on both cheeks now
that she was not smiling, the collarbones that deserved to classified as
royalty, her slender hands and nails she always kept short, and her feet
which would always amaze him as they were way smaller than his, perfect
enough for her size.
He stared at home for a moment before he brought his gaze back up to her
face. A dull cramp began in his legs so he moved from squatting to
kneeling. Unable to help himself, he took her hands in his and stared at
them, committing the image to memory too. He was going to paint her for
a long time. That much was clear.
Every little memory his brain had stored played in his head then; her every
laugh, her every gasp, her genuine interest in every single thing he had to
say, her selfless acts which had all been for him, and then her every tear. It
played like a movie that he loved and hated and when it finished, it played
again. When it finished the second time, he raised his head and his eyes met
hers.
He swallowed. “I love you, Ayra.”
Her hurt killed him. “Ibrahim –”
“I’m not asking you to say it back, Ayra, and I’m not telling you because I
want you to change your mind as that’s not going to happen. It’s clear
now.”
Her chest twisted again while he continued. “I’m telling you because I want
you to know that although I didn’t love you for months, I love you now
and I’m sorry it’s coming too late. I’m sorry for not seeing you although
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you were right in front of me until you changed due to what you
discovered. I’m sorry, Ayra. I’m really sorry.”
Her tears were impossible to hold back so she let them be. He let his be
too.
“I hate it so much that I’ve hurt you more than I even know and like you
said, I’m ready to do everything and anything to make it right but…” The
knives in his chest dug deeper and deeper. “But I don’t want to hurt you
even further. It’s going to kill me to let you go, Ayra, but…But it’s getting
clearer and clearer that I’m going to have to. I can’t burn the world for you
if all it’s going to do is hurt you even more. I’ve done more than enough,
Ayra, and I don’t – I can’t do more.”
Her tears flowed. His did too.
“This hurts a lot, Ayra, and I don’t know how I’m going to survive all of
this but you’re my main priority now and if this is the only way to make
things right, then I don’t have any other choice. I’m so sorry, Ayra. I’m so,
so sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”
And just like the previous night, she held him close with her lips in his hair
and tears streaming down her cheek while his new scent stuck to her; wood
and spice, a combination she would associate with him until she moved on;
if she ever moved on.
When Ibrahim’s tears subsided, he raised his head to look at her, their faces
mere inches apart and it struck him that she was a very beautiful woman.
He’d just been too blind for a long time to see it.
“Please give me three days, Ayra.”
Her stomach dipped. “Ibrahim…”
“I’m not going to try to change your mind, I promise, and I’m not going to
do anything funny. Just please…”He brought his hands up and put them
together, pleading. “Just please stay with me for three more days and let me
get to say bye. Just three days, Ayra, I’m begging you and then I’ll do
whatever you want. Just three days, Ayra. Please…Please.”
She wanted to say no because she knew that if she gave in and the three
days came to an end, it’ll leave them with too much heartache and pain. It
was going to end in tears and she should have said no but…she couldn’t,
not when he begged so earnestly and not when the pain in his eyes reflected
hers.
“Please, Ayra.”
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She sniffled and nodded once. “Three days, Ibrahim. Nothing more.”
He nodded, too deep in everything to even feel much relief. Excitement
was a non-existent emotion and it terrified him to realise that he may never
feel it again. He rested his head on her laps and allowed her kiss his hair.
His words were a whisper.
“I love you, Ayra. In Shaa Allah I’m going to love you for as long as I can.”
“I know.” Her reply hurt her too. “I know it all too well.”
And deep inside of her, a part of her screamed at the top of her lungs with
tears in her eyes that she loved him too.
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54
Ibrahim took Ayra home that evening and the thrill of the new place had
disappeared with the events that had happened and the events that were yet
to happen. With only mere hours to their end, Ibrahim was determined to
make every moment count.
They watched the sunset together, as quiet as they had been throughout the
ride from her parents’ house to what would have been theirs, and Ibrahim
committed to memory how perfectly they’d always fit with her sitting
between his legs and her back flush against his front.
They prayed both Maghrib and Isha in the mosque and they had dinner
together at a restaurant, talking about the things that caught their attention
just so the silence didn’t continue. When they got back to the house, they
showered together and when they kissed, their tears stained it, and Ayra let
him lead her out of the bathroom to the bed where he proceeded to make
love to her, ensuring he got everything right.
When she fell asleep much later, Ibrahim stared at her for the longest time
and then he cried until there was no more tear to shed and a headache
threatened to split his head in two.
Dawn took its time to arrive and they caught the sunset while sipping tea.
Silence had once again descended between them and Ibrahim did all he
could to curtail his tears but they still broke free and he occasionally moved
his hand away from the mug to wipe them away. In the chair she occupied,
Ayra cried too. They ate breakfast, took a long walk on the beach, and then
painted the scenery together; stopping at intervals to pray, eat, and cry while
thinking the other person couldn’t see.
On their second day, Ayra asked to visit The Hexad as she’d never been
there before and she wanted to know how it looked like before she added it
to the list of places she’d never visit unless it was extremely important.
Although it was the last place he wanted to go in his life, especially when he
remembered what Bella had said about Ayra leaving him, Ibrahim got
dressed and drove her there himself. Thankfully, the squad was out to meet
with some board members concerning the future of the company so
Ibrahim took Ayra round and showed her every single nook and cranny of
the structure he knew like the back of his hand.
In every office that belonged to a member of the squad, she dropped letters
that Ibrahim didn’t know she’d written and then she let know that she’d
sent Serkan’s and Aliana’s to them in Amsterdam.
“I never planned to write.” She told him. “But the words wouldn’t leave my
head and I didn’t want them to keep disturbing me. I don’t care what they
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do with the letters, honestly. It’s just me seeking a closure and this should
be good enough.”
Ibrahim found the nearest restroom after that and cried. After Zuhr, they
had lunch at a pizzeria and then aimlessly drove around Aomi, their hands
held together between the seats. They didn’t return home until long after
Isha had been prayed. They had their bath and then returned to the living
room and with his chest still torn wide open, Ibrahim asked Ayra to explain
to him the process of Khula’ where a Muslim woman requested a divorce
from her husband.
Ayra explained it to him the same way Yunus and Maya had explained it to
her; in the simplest form so everything was clear and there was no
confusion. The silence that followed when she finished was heavy and it
weighed down on the both of them.
It felt like forever before Ibrahim quietly asked “What if I don’t want the
mehr back?”
Her stomach – and her heart – dipped. “Ibrahim –”
He held her watery gaze with his. “I don’t want the mehr back, Ayra. It was
my gift to you and although I wasn’t completely sincere then, I’m not taking
it back. I can’t take it back, not with everything that has happened between
us; both the good and the bad. It’ll kill me to do so, so please…Please don’t
give it back, Ayra. I’m begging you.”
It was a long moment before Ayra brought herself to nod, sniffling before
she said “Okay, Ibrahim, I won’t give it back.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
That night, neither of them slept much but they stayed in each other’s
embrace, none of them willing to let go unless it was necessary. After Fajr,
they made their respective cups of the tea. Their movements were slow as
they knew it would be their last morning making tea together.
The sunrise was stunning but they barely saw it with how hard both of
them tried not to cry. When the magic of nature passed and the sun rose
higher and higher in the sky, Ibrahim mustered the courage to ask what
Ayra’s next step was going to be.
It took her a minute to give him a reply. Her line of sight did not leave the
deep blue ocean in the distance. “I have all my plans written out on a piece
of paper but I can’t say I’ve gotten around really looking at them. I’ve been
exhausted for a long time now, Ibrahim, especially with all the acting I’ve
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done so the most pressing need for me now is to rest as much as I can. I
can deal with everything else later. I just want to rest now.”
Once again, Ibrahim felt like a monster. “I’m sorry.”
Her smile was small but extremely sad. “I know, Ibrahim…I’m sorry too.”
“You have nothing to apologise for, Ayra, so please never say sorry to me.
I’m the one who should be apologising for the rest of my life.”
She turned her head to look at him and he did the same. A minute passed
with their gazes locked before they looked away, back towards the sea. She
then asked what his plans were and he told her the honest truth.
“I’m going to make myself someone you’ll always be proud of, Ayra, no
matter what.”
Her chest – torn and battered – squeezed painfully. She wrapped her fingers
tighter around the mug she held, wanting to cry once again. Ibrahim blinked
his own tears back, his smile as small and sad as hers had been.
“I’m going to take my time to draw up my plans, using the ideas you gave
and then I’m going to ensure I become someone you’ll always be proud of,
Ayra. That’s what I’m going to spend the rest of my life doing, I promise.”
A tear – despite how hard she tried to hold it back – slipped and slid down
her cheek, glistening when a sun ray hit it. She sniffled. “I have no doubt
you’re going to do well, Ibrahim. I have no doubt about it at all.”
Ibrahim – once again – was bleeding. He stared at his tea which had long
gone cold. “I have no doubt you’ll do well too. You’ve always been a
shining star, Ayra, and I’m so sorry I dimmed your light with everything I
did and every lie I told. I’m always going to be sorry.”
Her tears kept coming and they fell into her mug, mixing with her tea. She
sniffled again. “I’ll be okay, Ibrahim.” She didn’t believe her words one bit.
“No matter how long it takes, I’ll be okay…You’ll be okay too.”
Ibrahim began to cry all over again.
Throughout the day, he held her in his embrace no matter what they did.
He told her over and over that he loved her and that he was always going to
for as long as Allah spared his life. Then he apologised over and over,
telling her he was sorry for every single thing he’d missed and for every
single thing he’d said and for every single thing he’d taken for granted. He
promised, over and over, that he’d do better every single day and then he
blessed her with little kisses, committing every inch of her – for the
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millionth time – to memory as the memories were all he would have left
after the day ended.
He cried repeatedly and Ayra did too, saying it deep, deep inside that she
still loved him too; not as much as she used to but she loved him all the
same. Like he wished her well, she did the same for him and she had no
doubt that he was going to do well. He was going to be alright too, no
matter how long it ended up taking.
After Isha, while others left Masjid An-Nur, Ibrahim walked to the empty
female section where Ayra was and knelt in front of her, his movements
that of a man resigned to his fate while his heart – and every other part of
him – painfully wailed.
He smiled at her, his eyes shining with tears. “Assalam Alaykum, Ayra.”
Ayra smiled back, her eyes just as bright. “Waalaykum Salam, Ibrahim.”
“I hope someday, no matter how much time passes, if our paths cross, we
can sit together to have tea and talk about how our lives had gone. We can
do that, right?”
Her smile stretched a little. She nodded. “Of course we can. I’d love that.”
“I’ll look forward to that day.”
“In Shaa Allah.”
He committed her every detail – yet again – to memory and then looked
away to blow out a breath. Regaining composure and keeping a tight leash
on his tears, he exhaled once again and turned back to her, the words “this is
it” loud in his head.
They smiled at each other and a minute passed before he nodded once.
Exhaling shakily, Ayra nodded too. Another minute passed before Ayra
requested for her divorce and Ibrahim uttered the words of separation
although every syllable punched him squarely in his gut and killed him
inside.
He let her go and the rope that held them as one snapped, never to be
joined together again.
♣
The divorce of Ayra Leilani Abdulaziz and Ibrahim Fahad was announced
to the public two weeks after the actual separation, as requested by both
Ibrahim and Ayra. The two weeks had given them time to clear their social
media pages (in Ibrahim’s case so he could start on a fresh slate) and
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privatise their accounts (in Ayra’s case and for Ibrahim’s new accounts he
didn’t want the world following). It gave them time to grieve too.
The news shook the world and so many people had questions although the
press statement released by the Fahads stated that the separation had been
mutually done and that both Ibrahim and Ayra were on good terms with
each other. The family, just as they did when Ibrahim cut the squad off and
left The Hexad, asked the public to leave both Ayra and Ibrahim alone so
they could deal with everything at their pace without having to deal with the
ever prying eye of the media.
It was easier said than done though as media personnel flooded Haven
Estate and The Oasis, having no idea Ibrahim no longer lived there. When
it got really bad, security teams were deployed to keep the media personnel
out and lawsuits were filed which made a lot of the media houses pull back
their reporters and camera men and women.
The squad – what was left of it – reached out to Ibrahim and taunted him
with their haughty messages. He ignored the messages but it only made
them angrier and they intensified their attempts to reach him, telling him
that the woman he’d left them for ended up leaving him and that he wasn’t
going to survive on his own. They told him he’d die a lonely man locked in
the confines of his own prison with nothing and no one to mourn him.
When it became obvious they were not going to stop stooping lower and
lower, Ibrahim had his legal team hit them with one lawsuit after the other
and also with restriction orders. It damaged The Hexad’s public image and
led to a roll crises that went beyond what the squad could control and so
many people – stakeholders, investors, and even members of the public –
asked Ibrahim to make a comeback, no matter how small he wanted it to
be. They promised to wait for him and to support him once he was ready.
On Friday, December 3rd which was the same day Ayra received an email
for her interview at Ayneese, Ibrahim called for a press conference after
Jumm’ah. As it was his first public address since the divorce, every person
looked forward to it. When the time came, Ayra left her room at her
family’s home and headed down to the second living room so she could
watch the press conference too.
At his parents’ mansion from where he was to address the general public,
Ibrahim stepped out of the main doors and smiled at the sea of journalists
and reporters, the camera flashes momentarily blinding. He was in his
signature outfit; loose trousers, a turtleneck that had been tucked into the
trousers’ waistband, and boots on his feet. He had chosen to forgo his coat.
His hair was longer and the curls were more pronounced. His stubble was
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as neat as ever and while he seemed the same, there was a beautiful humility
that wrapped itself around him like a cloak and pulled people in.
His smile was small and he spoke into the microphone that had been set up
while Salim and Fareeda stepped out of the house and stood on either side
of him, their smiles small too.
“I’d like to thank everyone for coming out here even on short notice.”
Ibrahim said, his words coming out calm and collected. He put his hands
together behind him. “I’d also like to thank the public for the comeback
requests I have received and also for the support I’ve been promised. I
appreciate all of it although I feel undeserving on most days. I’m working
on it so hopefully, you’ll be hearing from me soon.”
He paused to exhale. A moment passed before he spoke again. “Before
that, there’s an initiative I’ll be launching by next week and that is the main
reason I’m here today. It’s a foundation to help mostly women but also
inclusive to any person who needs it. It’s to cater for those who are not
privileged enough to cover one expense or the other. I don’t want to
generalise any person in that category a needy person but sometimes there
are circumstances that are beyond our control which may cause a restraint
or the other so…”
He scanned the sea of reporters present. “I hope this foundation can come
to the aid of such person and help ease the burden, no matter how little it’ll
be. It’s also for people who have loved but had to leave because they
deserve better. We hope to help you find your footing and get you settled
on your new path, just like how the woman I love did for me.”
The cameras kept flashing and the reporters typed and scribbled furiously,
not willing to miss a single detail. Some of them were teary-eyed and around
the country, many of those watching were teary-eyed too. In the second
living room at the Abdulaziz home, Ayra’s small smile stretched when
Salama put her hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently.
Back at the Fahad mansion, Ibrahim smiled a little wider and stared straight
into one of the cameras.
“Out of every initiative I’ll have from this very day, I hope this one gets
your full support…Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to
introduce to you The Leilani Foundation, in honour of the woman I was
privileged to be married to; a woman I’m going to love all my life, no matter
what…”
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