The limits of love are very weird

— Ahmed Faraz

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Him

He sits in his chamber over the cushions arranged in front of the fireplace. His food lies untouched and the glow of the the candles lit around the room illuminates for him what the dark of the night would've concealed otherwise. Solitude hadn't ever bothered him much since he was a child. But then she came.

When they were youngsters, there was a loneliness she had eased by providing him company, whether he asked for it or not, until them together was only natural. When they split, it was like breaking a habit, and took him a long time to be freed. Then she came again. This time as an addiction which he cannot rid of now.

A knock comes at the door followed by Daud's voice. "May I come in, sayidi?"

"Come in, Daud."

He steps into the chamber with a small box-- the box he had sent to her to Isfahan. Like many times before, she has refused to accept anything from him. It isn't unexpected.

"The lady returned the gold and the gifts you sent her, sayidi," Daud informs him, a narrative seemingly too old for him from hearing it every time. He places the box besides him and leaves.

He flips open the lid of the box, picking up the elegant armlet studded with sapphires. It reminds him of her-- he had liked it for her. He strokes it with his thumb. It would've looked beautiful on her. He misses her, dearly so.

Unrolling the message he has received this morning, like the many other he had received before now, he reads it without being surprise: they want to kill you.

He releases an exhausted breath. How unholy, how predictable. Yet how can he drag Noura with him in the arms of death?

Her

The moon is full tonight. The sky is clear and a cool breeze blows in through the kitchen window where she has put the milk on the stove to boil. She can see the roses swaying in their small lawn and the nightingales singing to them in ecstasy. And amidst where nature tries to lure her to itself, she finds herself more concerned about the man sitting on stairs of the veranda and lost watching the stars.

It has been a few days since her argument with Eskander. She hasn't approached him after then, and he too has kept quiet about the matter. Laleh hasn't visited them again, and she didn't have the courage to do so either. Despite the many years shared with him and their unbreakable bond, Noura does realize there will always be parts of him he still might try to hide, never comfortable baring himself to her. But if in doing so he chooses to suffer, she knows that she cannot allow him to.

Her mother walks into the kitchen and catches sight of her before finding him. She then comes to turn off the stove, the milk which was now past the boiling point, and brings two cups to pour it into them.

"What happened between you two, azizem?" she asks her.

"Nothing. He's just stubborn, maman."

"So are you, dukhtar (daughter)." She looks towards Eskander through the window. "He has been withdrawn. Did you upset him?"

"And he upset me," she answers with a subtle affirmation and irony.

Her mother fills the cups for them and places them in a tray. "He's a lonely boy, aziz (dear). You don't have to play your part in making him realize he's an orphan."

"I would never do that," she argues defensively, suddenly feeling guilty.

Her mother sighs and nods towards him. "Then go to him. Talk to him. You're each other's shield and sword. After your baba jan it has been him for you-- your friend, your brother." She smiles a small smile. "He has always been a son to me, Nour, no different to me than you are. You're each other's family. Will you both bring pride and egos between yourselves? Because I worry greatly if so would be the case as now."

"Of course not, maman. None of us would allow that. Him and I care much for each other." She picks up the tray and smiles back at her mother. "I'll work it out with him."

"Noore chashm-am (light of my eye)." Her mother kisses her forehead. "Never leave each other alone."

"We will never," she promises and makes her way outside.

The breeze blows her shawl and feels to pierce through it as she walks down the veranda to where he's sitting on its stairs. He tears away his gaze from the sky towards her upon hearing her approaching. Noura quietly comes to sit beside him and places the tray between them.

"Your milk," she says.

"Mutashakkaram (thank you)."

He takes his cup and she adjusts her shawl before holding hers in her hands, the warmth of it feeling good to her skin against the cold. Silence hangs between them, interrupted only by a nightingale still singing. They let the moment be of peace rather than exchanging words. Until they both speak up together.

"The stars are bright tonight."

"Do you hear the bulbul (nightingale)?"

He chuckles and nods, and so does she. "It has been singing for a while," Noura replies to his question.

"It reminds me of our childhood. The stars. The nightingale." He traces the rim of his cup with his finger. "It reminds me of baba jan."

"Me too," she admits feebly. "And of... Baghdad."

"It does," he agrees. "When I was child and my father was still alive, the last I saw him before he left for a war and never returned, he told me a story about this boy who became a bulbul. It was a sad one where the boy dies and I didn't like it, but what I liked was how he rises as a nightingale from his bones. For a long time I kept wondering if people really became nigthingales after death. I wondered if my late mother was one. And if my father had become one too after martyrdom. I wanted to cling onto something-- to be reassured that I wasn't alone. I can never forget those days, those nights-- the heavy numbness and disturbing feeling of them. It was then that I had come to love this bird."

Noura listens to him talking. He's staring at the milk in his cup. Then slowly he takes a sip of it. The calmness of his expression could've fooled her had she not known him for her life. The mask he wears is impenetrable, but she knows the pretense is a tough guard he has learnt to wear and deal with his worries on his own.

"When your family took me in," he continues, "the song of bulbul started to sound less like a melancholy. I once asked baba jan about it. He said how people thought of them to be singing to the roses, and that those who have departed will be seen as stars in the sky once in heaven. So my attention and love shifted to the stars. And when baba jan passed away, I was sure he'd be one such star."

Noura looks up at the sky. The stars sparkle down at them. The moon in its glory is suspended proud among them. She asks him without removing her eyes from them.

"Do you miss him, Eskander?"

"Too often. Too much."

"I miss him too." She turns to him. "But what tonight has reminded you of him?"

"You. Maman. The stars. Everything always does." He finishes his milk and places the cup on the try. "He wasn't only a father to me, he was a friend. He taught me much. Maman was always more like a mother. Her love. Her care. Her worry for me-- return before dark, Eskander. Eat on time, Eskander." He smiles to himself. "And you too have been my friend, my family-- my playmate. You're the color of my childhood, Nour. But I've failed you, so I've failed baba jan."

"You know you haven't," she denies firmly. "I apologize for my behavior that day. It wasn't fair of me. I overstepped the line and hurt you."

"It wasn't fair of me either. I'm sorry, Nour. I too said some hurtful things to you which I shouldn't have." He locks his fingers between his knees. "I understand things are difficult for you. And I know my choices didn't make anything easy for you. I stood against your husband and you were torn between him and I. But I had been devoted to my objectives and my loyalties never were with him. You know it was long before you became part of the scenario that I had chosen my side."

"I don't blame you, Eskander. You had the right to pick a side. But I cannot do so between you and him. You're my family, and so is he. I love you like one, and I love him like a lover. I hold no power over my heart."

"I know," he mumbles back. "And neither do I blame you for it. But Nour," he looks at her, sternly, meaningfully, as if marking his words like carvings on stones, "you're the trust of your father with me. Whether you believe this or not, I've only genuinely wanted the best for you. I've wanted what baba jan would want for you-- your happiness and well being, azizem."

"I've never once doubted your intentions." She smiles at him. "But you and maman see my happiness in something else, while it lies somewhere else."

He doesn't answer, turning back away to the sky. She finishes her milk in small sips and puts down her cup too. Her attention doesn't shift to the stars or the nightingale this time, but remains fixated on him. Eager to know his thoughts, she asks him.

"Do you really hate him so much?"

"I never actually did before, despite the disagreeable matters between us. I'm not saying that I ever liked him either. But after what he did and how he did it, and the audacity to abandon you afterwards, can you blame me?"

"But if I forgive him, will you let go of this enmity between you both?"

Eskander exhales in exasperation, as if finding the idea painful, and glances around at the roses. "Who am I to object if you've made your choice?"

"You're my family. You matter to me, Eskander."

"And you matter to me, Nour. But I know you suffer and maman looks at you and she suffers. And it upsets me to see you and her like this." Their eyes collide again. "Do you not understand? The past is behind us and I don't want to bring this up, we've both moved on, but I couldn't even find myself worthy of you, afraid of not being good enough for you. Damnation, I couldn't even find Ameer Sulaiman deserving of you when he expressed his will of marrying you, not even now when he's the Khalifa. You think Ameer Adam would pass? His status changes nothing for me. A man whose wickedness I know, how do I allow it if I'm afraid he cannot value you as you deserve?"

"Adam is not wicked," she argues, though gently, and threads her fingers anxiously. "He had been always fair to me when we were together."

"As he is now," he spits, and regrets instantly tints his face as he clenches his jaw. "Pardon me. Let us not talk about it anymore lest I lose it and drag him all the way from Qahira to beg you on his knees here."

She laughs it off. "As if you could."

"Don't tempt me," he warns, smirking, letting the tension dissolve. "Wouldn't you like that though?"

"You bet I would. Will you grant my wish?" she jokes.

"If it pleases the lady."

"You make a mighty claim, my lord."

"You underestimate me, my lady."

"Oh, do I?"

His eyes soften. He leans back on his hands and cranes his neck away so their gazes are no more tangled. "Doret begardam, Nour (I would do anything for you, Nour)."

"I know," she admits, voice growing tender at the sincerity in his words. "Then would you be honest with me if I ask you something?"

"Ask away," his reply comes.

"Eskander," she reaches out to place her hand over his forearm, "tell me is there something holding you back from getting married?"

He rubs his jaw, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before sighing and turning towards her. "There is."

"And when that something is dealt with?"

He raises an eyebrow, seemingly entertained by her persistence. "Why are you so adamant about it?"

"I just want to know."

"Know what?"

"What do you think of Laleh?"

"What about her?"

"Do you like her?"

He only smiles and looks away.

"Is that a yes?" she presses.

"I never looked at her that way before now."

"And now you do?"

"You won't let it go, will you?"

"No." She grins. "Do you find her beautiful?"

He chuckles at queries in amusement. "Stop it, Nour."

"I'll take that as a yes too." She leans closer and lowers her voice dramatically. "Last question."

"What?"

"Would you like to marry her?"

He flicks her forehead playfully and gesture for her to leave. "You're training with Azar in the morning. You won't be able to wake up early if you tire yourself now."

"You're only denying and lying. I know the answer is yes." She puffs her cheeks at him. "At least tell me you'll think about it."

"I'm starting to think Laleh isn't as willing to get married to me as you are desperate to get us married."

"She really likes you, Eskander," Noura repeats what she had already told him, hoping he'll take it seriously and not shake her off again. "She dreams of a home with you."

He studies her face, searching it, as if seeking a confirmation, and she allows him to. Again, he let her thoughts be disarrayed in figuring what he thinks than providing her a straight answer. It frustrates her, but she knows against his will, nothing is possible. She cannot impose anything on him, not even Laleh's love.

"You've the right to say no. I only want that when you make a decision, it's truly what you wish for and not because of any liability," she clarifies.

"Maman really wants to see Laleh as my wife, doesn't she?"

"She does, because Laleh is her niece. But you're her son, and your happiness matters more to her than anything."

"And her happiness matters to me more than anything."

"But she wouldn't want you to do anything for her happiness which upsets you. This is about your life. If you don't want to marry yet and require Laleh to wait, maman can talk to dayi (uncle) about it. If not, or if you want to marry someone else, you can tell maman and she'll get you married there."

He only hums in response. She doesn't continue the conversation anymore and they sit in silence until the night turns darker than before. Her eyes oscillate between the stars, to the moon, to the roses, and to nothingness. She builds random conclusions in head, what may or may not happen, and what she desires. There's no promise of tomorrow, yet there are dreams she has tied herself to.

When she finally feels sleep beginning to weigh on her, she gets up to leave for her room and reaches down for the tray.

"I'll take it," Eskander says.

She smiles gratefully and excuses herself. When she reaches the door to the inside, he calls out to her.

"Nour?"

She looks back at him.

"You'll reunite with your husband soon."

"Ameen."

"Nour?"

"Yes?"

There's a pause and she thinks he might not say more, until he does. "I'll think about what you've asked of me."

"About Laleh?" she asks hopefully, surprised.

He nods. "If I've to marry, I'll marry her. Only if she still chooses to marry Eskander Teymour after learning who he is."

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I know you want to see a certain someone. We're going to see him soon, and might as well have a few chapters from his pov.

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