In nostalgia, there's no difference between a day, a year, a decade, or a lifetime, because the amount of longing is beyond the idea of time.

— Khalil Gibran

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"You once told me that when you love people, you don't love them half-- you love them whole. Do you remember?"

He smiles at her weakly in acknowledgment, the brilliance of his eyes having now dulled to that of a foggy night. She reaches forward to graze his hollow cheekbones with her fingertips.

"Back then, I didn't know what you meant," she tells him. "I asked you how could anyone be loved wholly when everyone is flawed, and that we're always loving people half, or a little more or a little less than that, but never whole. Do you recall?"

He only stares at her and she smiles brokenly, achingly, fighting the raw urge within her from falling apart. She wants to cage him within her ribcage, nestle him within her heart, and never let him go. She wants to save him somehow.

"I now understand what you meant. I love you whole, and not in bits. But is it too late now?" Her fingers hover over his pale skin. "Tell me, jaan, will God give me just one more chance?"

Zoraiz closes his eyes, then forces them open again, a simple movement making him appear exhausted and out of life. He lies on the bed unmoving, not speaking-- not being able too-- the tubes through his nose additionally making it difficult for him to say anything besides the agony of his terminal illness. He has been put on morphine to help with his pain. Seven months. Time has been cut short too soon. And every next day brings the fear of impending doom. She's not ready to let him go-- she never will be.

Only last month, Mikael had visited them. Back then, her brother was still better. But he's deteriorating fast, his muscles decaying and his body declining. It is as if she's losing him little by little every minute. She's dying every day with him.

Zoraiz closes his eyes back, and Banafsha keeps sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him until he falls asleep. She eventually gets up and quietly leaves his room.

A nurse has been hired to take care of him at home. She spends most of her time with him, taking care of him herself, or it's someone else from the family with him. Nonetheless, his illness has effected everyone badly even though they pretend to be fine in front of him.

Banafsha makes her way to the garden on the back of her house and finds her mother on the patio, sitting lost in a swinging chair, emptily staring into space.

"Mama?"

Zuleikha looks up at her silently and Banafsha drags a chair to sit beside her.

"What are you thinking?" she asks her and Zuleikha nods towards the gestures in the garden.

"Wishing if I were one of those, oblivious to the suffering I'm going through."

"We're all tested in our own ways. Every creature with a heart hurts. But the best we can do is to be patient."

"How does a mother be patient when her young son is dying?" she complains. "What do I do to save him? If God asks me for my own life to save his, I'd happily die in his place. But not him, Banafsha. Not my child."

She looks away to the peacocks, roaming around everywhere and spreading their intricately made feathers. For a second, she wishes to be a bird too-- anything but human.

"Baba is ready to give up all his wealth for Zoraiz," Banafsha speaks absently. "But no amount of wealth matters against the will of God. Is it retribution for all our deeds?"

"But Zoraiz is innocent of it all," Zuleikha argues.

"He's only living what was predestined for him. Certainly God is the ever Merciful and Forgiving. For each of our suffering He purifies us by nullifying the punishment of our sins. May He blesses my brother and make it easy for him. As for us," she meaningfully holds her mother's eyes, "for us is a lot to learn."

Zuleikha only stares at her, not responding, and Banafsha glances away.

"How is lala?" she asks, changing the topic.

"As well as a man can be after losing a child. The miscarriage was unexpected. It has left him heartbroken."

"I feel sorry for Ferozeh."

"Me too. Mughis said they were going to name the boy after Zoraiz. But maybe this was how God had planned it-- to take that soul before it could come into this world."

"May He not put us in trials harder than these," Banafsha prays.

"Ameen." Zuleikha reaches forward and places her hand over hers. "Mughis is your brother, Afsha. And after Zoraiz, it will be only him. Don't keep any resentment towards him in your heart regarding what happened between you two."

Banafsha puts her other hand over her mother's and smiles. "There's nothing in my heart against him."

"I'm happy to hear that. I think he has realized his mistakes-- we all have. We all owe you an apology; we've been wrong and too blind on your part. And I especially should've understood you more than everyone else and tried to save you of the same fate I've suffered myself . Forgive us, zama qurban."

Banafsha caresses her thumb over Zuleikha's reassuringly. "I already have, mama."

"My darling daughter." Zuleikha pats her cheek. "I've already talk to your father. You can leave with Mikael whenever you want. We'll give you the wedding you both deserve, no more conditions or whatsoever."

"There's no need for it," she refuses gently. "Zoraiz has already left me money for it, and I don't want anything grand. Invite people and I'll just give a simple feast to the guests. Mikael will do the same. That's all I ask for."

Zuleikha sighs and nods, giving her a small smile. "We'll do it as you please, Banafsha."

"Thank you," she replies gratefully and closes her eyes, overwhelmed by the finally genuine agreement of her family to accept her decision, and to accept her husband for who he is. She's grateful she won't have to go through anymore loses for now. "Thank you," she repeats and smiles through her tears.

☾

Ten months. Time has been too merciless with its flow-- unsparing, not making exceptions for anyone. Ten months. Too much has changed too soon-- loss of love that has left a gash on her heart.

The sky is gray today, like it has been every day for the last two months, gloomy and dull. The winter is biting and the cold penetrates the bones. A light drizzle falls every once in a while but does nothing to lift her mood. Maybe nothing can.

Banafsha sits under the tree in the garden with its dying leaves constantly rustling and falling by the wind. She has a shawl wrapped around herself and where her fingers still feel frozen, her senses are numb to the cold. The roses in the bushes have wilted and everything seems out of soul. Her self too.

"I feel like I've only met you yesterday." She speaks at last. Mikael has been only quietly sitting beside her since he arrived at her house and found her here. She wouldn't say anything, and neither did he know what to say. "A year before, I never have thought this is where I would land."

"Life is unpredictable like that, remember?" he reminds her her words and she feels a pang in her chest.

"True. And it certainly has proven it to me. In fact, I've learned too much from it, that too all together and the hard way."

Mikael shifts his gaze to her. Like always, his orbs drown her with the hue of them, like an ocean which is too deep to swim it, yet she risks it and sinks there. Like always, she wanders there, finds herself lost, until he takes her hand and guides her. Without him, maybe her heart would be no more.

"I've learned to battle my fears, accept the truth, and let go of many things. Moving on, I still have to learn."

She pauses and glances up at the sky. "I've also learned how to love. And how it is devastatingly beautiful, in ways that can either free you from the worries of the world but itself, or it can totally destroy you."

Mikael doesn't interrupt her, and she's glad he hasn't. For suddenly, she's filled to the throat with words and she's afraid they might suffocate her if she doesn't let them out.

"And I've learned that love comes to us in many forms: love for ourselves, for our blood, for our lover. But that if you don't have the greatest of all love, the love for God, then even the depth of all other love cannot ease your restlessness. Their purity impures; they become shallow." She looks at him and finds him staring intently at her, listening attentively, for once his eyes dedicated and agreeing with her words. "You're always asking me questions. Now ask me why, Mikael," she commands softly.

He smiles as the blue of his irises tint with amusement. "Why, doctor?"

"Because how can we truly love others if not first our Creator? Because He was always there, before everyone else, to be loved first. If we cheat upon that first love, how is any other love of us sincere?" She tugs at her sleeves uneasily and gazes away from him into nothingness. "So we start losing what we love or who we love, to learn that all love is temporary until we learn to love God first-- until we taste eternal love. This is His way of teaching us that without Him, even love loses its meaning. And that with Him, it means eternity."

They remain silent for a long moment, watching the sky change colors into more poetic shades, mirroring her mood and forever magnificent. She can hear the seconds ticking in her head, adding to make another minute less, until he speaks to interrupt her musings,

"Why, Banafsha?"

This time he calls her by her name; this time she knows his question means something else. She turns to meet those ardent orbs again, watching an ocean of havoc leaping to find surface but falling apart. She relates to his suffering like her own.

"Because I've lost half of my heart. I don't want to lose the other half too."

"Banafsha." Mikael brushes back a few stray strands of hair from her face before tenderly grazing his knuckles up her cheekbone. "You won't lose me."

"This is something you cannot promise me." She smiles regretfully. "This is something I can only hope for."

"Then are we all not living with one such hope?" he points out politely. "We're all existing because of this hope."

"I think," she swallows and closes her eyes, "I think I'm too."

Mikael rests his forehead against hers and requests in a whisper, "Come home with me, doctor."

"But I'm so scared of letting go," she admits in defeat. "Even though my brother is no more with me, but his memories are in this house. And I'm afraid as the clock strikes a minute less, then an hour less, and so on until it's a day more since he's gone. And I've less and less time left with him here where I can still feel his presence, because I know at one point I can no longer hold on-- it might kill me. But do I want to be saved?" She breathes shakily. "I don't know about that. I don't know after seeing him fade away in front of my eyes if anything can be the same for me anymore."

Mikael hugs her to himself and rubs her arm, consoling her. "What did Zoraiz want for you?"

"You," she mumbles. "He wanted us to be together."

"He wanted you to be happy, Banafsha." He kisses the side of her head. "This grief shall pass too."

"How does one be happy when one loses a part of themself?"

"One tries by being patient for the sake of their Lord since we all belong to Him and must return to him, and hoping that someday all the lost parts be reunited."

"You mean when we die?" she asks, her voice wavering.

"I mean in heaven."

"Heaven?" Banafsha puts her arm around his torso. "I'll be hopeful in my Lord."

"As you shall be."

They stay sitting in each other's company until the sun dips in the horizon and the evening turns darker.

Mikael lightly nudges her to get up as he stands himself, extending his palm to her. "Let's take you inside."

"No." Banafsha shakes her head and puts her hand in his. "Take me home."

☾

One more chapter to go.

We'll be fast forwarding some more.

Now for fun, drop me your expectations for the last chapter and let's see if they turn out to be true.

Much much love to all of you who have stuck with me so far. You helped me reach the end of this story. Let's complete the book together.

Stay happy and blessed,
Laiba (:

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