Sit with those who have sinned and then repented, for they have the softest of hearts.

— Umar ibn Al Khattab

Life often takes us to unexpected turns and crossroads; sometimes to just teach a a lesson, other times as a penalty. Then either we find the right way back, or we're lost.

He feels as if he has been wandering aimlessly; he feels desperate to reach the end of the line. He doesn't know if he's among the lost, neither if it's a punishment. But he believes in one thing: Leyla is both his lesson and the right way back to life.

He doesn't know the plans of God. Who ever does? But he's grateful for one bright star in the form of this woman in his midnight sky. She lulls his agony, walks over the rough borders of his personality, and always stays with him.

But if someday God decides to take her away from him, he won't be surprised. After all, he hasn't be been a righteous man. Upon what good deeds of his could he make prayers to the Lord of the world? He laughs mentally. The Lord of the world probably has more important matters to deal with than paying attention to devious humans— like sending His blessings upon the pious ones, he wonders, and his souls sizzles in guilt. Is he hopeless?

She lowers her eyes and for the first time in all this while, Burq sees Leyla as meek and unsettled. She's always daring and confronting. This side of her doesn't sit well with him.

"I've no explanation to give you," she says.

"I don't ask you for any explanation. I only ask of the reason."

"I've no reason."

"Lies," he hisses impatiently, then sighs. He lifts up her chin so they see eye to eye. He softens his voice as he asks, "Would you just kiss any man for no reason, Leyla?"

He watches as the guard in her orbs shatters and breaks as if paper thin glass. There is a maelstrom of emotions in there sucking him in. And for some insane cause, he wants to let go and drown in there.

"I would never. But you're not just any other man, Burq."

Something within his ribcage jump. "Then who am I to you?"

Her eyes become distant, staring into his, hunting for something he has no idea of, but something intense, he knows.

She gives him an almost invisible smile as she presses her palm to his cheek, still clutching the mirror he has gifted her into her other hand.

"You're my whole universe, Burq. My macrocosm— my whole existence."

And that something within his ribcage explodes with great force, enough to render him speechless.

"Leyla..."

He doesn't know if he's saying her name in a warning or a wanting. He only knows that his comprehension of the moment has died.

"The heart is traitorous," she speaks in despondency, exhaling shakily. "I'm sorry."

She tries to retract her her hand but he quickly grasp her wrist, eyebrows knitting in a frown. "You're sorry to love me?"

"I'm sorry because I can't help it."

Before he could open his mouth to reply, someone clears his throat. Waleed. Burq has to clench his jaw not to snap at him. Damned be his timings of interruption.

"Leave the tray on the table and excuse us, Waleed," Burq orders, still holding Leyla's wrist in his grasp.

Waleed does so, keeping his gaze down respectfully. "Your lordship?"

Burq looks at him impatiently. "Yes?"

"His lordship, Raad, is on the call. He insists to speak to you."

A sharp prick burns his whole skin at his brother's name. He lets go of Leyla who quickly leans away from him. He fists his hands. "Tell him I do not wish to speak to him," he say from between his teeth, his demeanor totally changing.

"As you say, my lord."

Waleed begins to leave but Burq stop him.

"Waleed?"

He turns back around.

"Ask Raad not to call me again, ever," he commands harshly.

The butler hesitantly nods then leaves.

Burq tosses his head back and closes his eyes, momentarily forgetting about his company. The sudden shift in his mood has the veins in his head throbbing.

"Wallahi akhi, if we didn't share the same blood..." he trails off while mumbling to himself, putting a stop to his thoughts.

He tilts his face to the side and open his eyes, his gaze colliding directly with Leyla's analyzing one. She's thinking again. He smiles.

"Want to reprimand me with another story of yours, habibi?"

She reaches for her tea cup and shakes her head as she takes a sip. She puts it back down. "Waleed makes good tea," she compliments.

Burq scowls, straightening up. "Don't dodge me, Leyla."

"I was just thinking."

"No story?" He chuckles. "Tell me your thoughts then."

She hands him his almond milk and he thanks her. She picks back up her cup and glances at him. "It's such an irony that we can remain upset with someone for as long as they live. But the moment they leave us forever, we cry for their loss. Had they been eternal, would we be upset with them to eternity? We humans are such hypocrites, don't you think?"

Burq raises both eyebrows, pondering over what she said. "It's not so easy to forgive someone."

"I know. But it's still not impossible. Just like God keeps forgiving his servants, He expects his servants to forgive their brothers too."

He smirks. "Does He forgive now?"

"He always does, as long as one repents."

"Then what is this pain, habibi?"

Leyla smiles her disarming smile, the enigma in her pupils captivating him right away. "The pain is only to turn us back to our creator— to find what we've lost. For the human nature is so, we remember our Lord only in our sufferings, but not during His blessings as we disregard His benevolence towards us."

"Life sometimes can become so. Can we be blamed? God doesn't even need us when He has His angels."

"Yes, but we need Him. And yes, we can be blamed. No excuse is big enough to forget Him." She sips her tea, staring up at the sky and into the void. "Prophet Sulaiman (Solomon) was given an empire like no other, not before him neither after him. He was a powerful ruler and a magnificent king. Yet he always remembered his Lord to worship, setting up an example of gratitude towards his creator. And Prophet Ayub (Job)," she catches his eyes again, "he was inflicted with a painful illness for eighteen years, lost all his earnings and his family, as a test. Yet he remained steadfast till the end and set up an example of great patience." She put her cup back down and turns to him. "No matter how life was for them— from running a kingdom for Sulaiman to being bedridden and empty pocketed for Ayub— being short on time, health, or money never became a reason for them to defy God. These people were living proves for us."

He absorbs her words silently, then looks up at the sky. The snow is still falling. The sun is clouded and he can't look past them, but surely God can see him and know his feelings. Can he be forgiven?

"I don't know when was the last time time I worshipped Him and praised Him," Burq says, his voice sounding both taut and broken. "I don't remember when I last prostrated to Him. I wouldn't be surprised if He doesn't love me anymore; if I ever loved Him rightfully, I've stopped long enough to forget it."

"I'm sure He still loves you." She smiles warmly at him. "One of His names is Al Wadood, the most loving. Now if it isn't our creator then who else to love us the most?"

He doesn't answer, battling her stare. How could she be so strong in her faith? Has she ever been through devastating grief? What does she know?

"It's never too late to repent, Burq," she adds and he looks away, focusing on his glass and gulping down his milk. Every human is different.

"Sufferings can change a person, habibi."

"I know."

"Did your sufferings never make you doubt God?"

This time, she laughs. He questioningly looks at her as her orbs shine with disbelief. She shrugs.

"What love is that without trust?" Her countenance shades serious once more. "My sufferings has made me go blind in His love. I've entrusted him my heart, and He's the best of caretakers."

He watches her with astonishment— admiration. She is crafted with something else— something phenomenal.

Placing his glass on the table, he reaches for her hand. A love like hers promises immortality.

"Leyla?" He stares into her eyes and tugs her closer. "What of your feelings for me?"

"What of them?"

"Why did you never tell me?"

She squeezes his hand lightly. "Because unlike how love should be, between us it's unrequited and of mistrust."

"You don't trust me?"

She smiles sadly and frees her hand from his. "No, you didn't trust me."

➳

The evening in the diner isn't really busy. He sits in a booth in one corner, waiting for Waleed to get them their food. He needed to get out of the confines of his house and breathe fresh air. It has been suffocating.

His scrutinizing gaze sails around, briefly focusing on each person before becoming disinterested and moving to the next. He needs something to pass time while waiting.

As he glances around, someone at the counter catches his attention. The contours of her face are strikingly similar to someone. He would've called her average and wouldn't have payed her any mind, if that certain someone hasn't been occupying his thoughts lately. This girl looks so much like Leyla.

She turns around and coincidentally their eyes meet. Instantly, recognition flashes in her irises as they become hard. He feels puzzled.

She begins to walk towards him and he sits up attentive. She might look like Leyla, but where Leyla has ardent black eyes colored with inscrutable secrets and enthralling tales, her eyes are deadly like a dark abyss, mercilessly cutting him like an enemy's sword.

"Mr. Aziz," she greets him simply with a neutral expression.

He tilts his head and parallels her look. "Do I know you?"

"Spogmay Khanzada." She doesn't offer more, as if her name alone is supposed to fix his lost memory. But he does the calculation in his head.

"Leyla's sister?"

"Yes."

"You both look alike." He smiles. "It's nice to meet you, Spogmay."

"Ah," she raises her hands defensively, "I know you've amnesia and I'm sorry about your accident. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, Mr. Aziz. We were never on first name basis to begin with."

He's more perplexed now as his smile falters and disappears in front of the disdain on her features. He gathers one thing right away: she isn't fond of him.

"Ms. Khanzada," he refers to her formally instead. "I suppose it's not so nice for you to meet me then."

She smirks slyly, placing her hands on the table and leaning down and forward. "Believe me, if you knew the reason why, you wouldn't be fond of yourself either." She gives him a once over before straightening back. "My sister has a heart of gold, Mr. Aziz. If it were me in her shoes, I would never have returned to you after what you did, even if you'd have rubbed your nose at my feet."

He's taken aback by her grim choice of words. Frowning, he asks her, "Pray tell, what has earned me this hatred of yours, miss?"

"I'd rather suggest you pray to God if He ever decides to return your memories, He may delete the ones where you'd be ashamed of calling yourself a man."

"Ms. Khanzada," he drops his voice dangerously, taking offense. "Just because I'm quiet doesn't mean I'll allow you to cross the line with me. I respect Leyla and just for her sake I'm bearing with your insolence."

"That's where you're wrong." She glares at him. "You don't respect Leyla; you need Leyla. You're just a selfish—"

Her eyes go wide as they fix on someone behind him, stopping mid-sentence. Her knuckles turn white as she grips the strap of her handbag tightly. She looks both terrified and murderous, ready to kill someone and hide away.

Burq looks over his shoulder to find a man sitting at a table down the other line, completely oblivious to the woman staring at him shell-shocked. When he turns back to Spogmay, she blinks and grits her teeth, then turns around and flees without another word.

He's left there dumbfounded, deep in thought both over their conversation and this person, until another man calls to the one Spogmay had spotted and ran away from.

"Asfandyar."

And he notes the name.

➳

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I've been busy with my studies but I do read all your comments and I'll be catching up with you guys soon.

Much much love for all your support so far.

➳