Life is perhaps that enclosed moment when my gaze destroys itself in the pupil of your eyes.

— Forough Farrokhzad

Maybe someday the ephemeral moments of life will tend to stretch longer. Maybe someday every bliss won't appear so short lived. But then, how can any moment be longer when life itself is a mortal gift? Thus every moment is but a memory. Time doesn't stretch for anyone.

Not for her. Not for anyone else.

When she arrives at his place, she doesn't find him alone but in an argument with another man at the threshold of his house. Leyla halts in her step, reconsidering approaching him. With his back towards her, Burq cannot see her. But she can hear the heated exchange of words between both men.

"Come with you?" Burq hisses in disdain. "Not in my two lives."

"Try to understand—"

"Understand what?" he snaps, cutting off the man. "You need to understand. I've a life here. I've settled here. I'm not abandoning it for anything."

For an odd and scary reason, her heart skips a beat. Despite logic, she cannot help the joy blossoming in her chest— she cannot help thinking he's meaning it for her.

"I come to you and find you living alone with a broken leg and walking on crutches," the other man fires back. "Is this your settled life?"

"Raad," Burq speaks warningly, and Leyla cannot believe her ears upon hearing the name. "You come to me after a year. You must realize that's a long enough time for things to change."

"But the fact remains, akhi. We're still your family. You need to call off these conflicts and come back home with me."

His brother is here to take him home? She struggles to arrange her thoughts. But she doesn't get time when Raad's eyes shift to her standing behind Burq. Burq follows his gaze, turning around and meeting her orbs. Those golden irises glitter unnaturally.

"Leyla?" he says her name in a longing she cannot miss. Something flutters in her chest.

"I apologize for the intrusion." She looks between her husband and her brother-in-law. "I didn't know you were having company. I'll come another time."

"No," he's quick to stop her, hurriedly moving to her side. Then as if taking hold of himself, he releases his breath and repeats himself calmly, "No, you don't have to leave. He was about to leave anyway." He looks at Raad and tilts his head, but his brother's eyes are still stuck to her in a puzzled expression.

"Salam, ukhti (sister)," Raad greets Leyla, placing his hand over his heart.

She mirrors his action and greets him back, "Salam."

He questioningly glances at Burq before smiling kindly at her. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

His question doesn't sound strange to her. She knows Raad can never assume her to be his brother's friend— to be so close to him to drop at his home uninvited. Even Burq couldn't believe her lie of being his friend. Her husband was a lone wolf.

But Raad is different, not in his looks but clearly in his personality. He has the same golden eyes as his brother, but with a warmer spark like a midday sun. The same features but with a smoother touch. His smile is welcoming, soft, gracing his face effortlessly. He has an serene aura around him, and suddenly she understands why Doha chose him over Burq.

She chose an easy man over a difficult one.

But Leyla, her heart loves complex, unfathomable, tangled mess. Her heart loves the uproar of the feelings only one can bring her. Her heart loves Burq.

Before she can answer Raad's question, Burq places a hand on her back, nodding towards him. "Leyla, this is Raad, my younger brother."

Raad's smile broadens and Leyla returns his smile politely.

"And Raad," Burq stares into his eyes, as if gauging his reaction, as if memorizing it, to what he is to say next. "This is Leyla, my wife."

Stun must be an understatement to describe Raad's expression; it colors into total disbelief. His smile fades as his eyes flick between Burq and Leyla. "Your wife?" he asks in a shock. "You've married?"

"Yes," Burq confirms coolly.

"When?"

"Six months ago."

"And you didn't bother to tell us?"

"Why would I?"

"Because we're your family, Burq."

Leyla can hear the remorse and anger in Raad's voice now, but Burq remains passive in front of him, showing no guilt or regret.

"Thank you for reminding me. I actually had forgotten," he remarks sarcastically and Raad frowns.

"I had been trying to connect with you but you never once answered my call. You cannot blame us."

"I actually can because I've good reasons to. But let's not hurt your pride by talking about it." He gestures towards Leyla who has been quietly watching the drama unfold. "As I said, I've a life here now. I cannot come with you."

"Brother." Raad steps towards him, trying to reason with him. "If you've married and you've settled down, I'm happy for you. Umi (mother) has been waiting for this news for long; she'll be glad to know you've found your match." He glances at Leyla. "Your wife is part of our family now. You and Leyla can both come home and start your life there. I'm sure baba will understand too—"

"Raad," Burq doesn't let him complete. "I don't want to come back home. This is my home now."

Raad stares at him for a while, searching his face silently, then his shoulders drop in resignation. He looks at Leyla and gives her a small smile. Once more, she returns his smile, this time both nervously and apologetically. He turns around and leaves without another word.

"Let's get inside. It's cold."

Burq's voice gets her attention and she hums. An incomprehensible force compresses her neck. She cannot breathe.

Will he ever forgive her after finding out she plans on leaving for her own home soon? Will he ever forgive her for abandoning him?

➳

"I've to tell you something."

"Shush, qalbi." He leans against his bed post. Leyla adjusts the pillows behind his back and then sits beside him. Burq reaches to interlock his fingers with hers. "Tonight, don't speak to me of anything I don't want to hear."

She looks down to their joined hands before back up into his eyes. "Then what do you want to listen to?"

He gestures towards the book lying on his bedside table. "Read me poetry and I'll tell you my secrets."

Her lips tugs up as she picks up the book. "Nizar Qabbani?"

"He's one of my favorite poets," he says. "Who's your favorite poet, my love?"

"My favorite poet?" she ponders out loud and opens the book, flipping through pages. "I don't think I've a favorite poet, but a lot of favorite poetry. Every piece of writing I can find myself into becomes my favorite. It's only natural, is it not? What we can relate to becomes beautiful for us."

He gives her an amused smile, those pupils seeming to zoom on her— swallowing her. "Then narrate to me a piece of your favorite poetry."

She looks down, gaze sailing across the pages as she chooses one to read, "Let's agree on me loving you from a distance, / And you being closer to my heart than my vein. / On me being a stranger to whom you tell your troubles, / And you being to my heart the sweetest and nicest lover."

They stare at each other in silence. Then he pushes himself off the bed post and leans towards her. "And how do you relate to this, qalbi?"

Her eyes fall back to their hands and she unlocks them. Taking his hand in both of hers, she raises it to her lips and feather kisses his knuckles before hugging it to her chest. "Through you, Burq."

She can clearly hear the sound of his breathing, the unsteady rhythm of it. Even in the dark, she can make out those pupils to be dilated and fixated on her, unmoving, as if the whole universe has stilled— as if finally, the moment is stagnant.

"Leyla." Once more, her name sounds more like a yearning from his mouth than just a name. "On one hand, I've made beautiful memories with you. On the other, I feel those were nothing but my betrayal towards you— towards myself." He reaches out to caresses her cheekbone with his thumb. "I've gotten back enough of my memory to understand the lie of our relationship. There are still missing pieces, but somehow I don't wish for them to be filled. Because I know there's no good there. Because I know it was different before than now. And I want now." He inches closer and tilts his head so that his nose is touching her jaw. "This," he whispers and his breath tickles her skin. "Without Doha or Asfandyar. Just you and me, qalbi."

She runs her fingers through his hair, those wavy strands untangling easily under her touch. They certainly have grown longer than how he usually keeps them. But they look good on him. He'll always be handsome in her eyes. He'll always have her bewitched.

"Just you and me, qalbi," Leyla repeats his words and he sighs audibly, resting his forehead against her shoulder.

"Someday you will kill me, woman," he mumbles, "and no one will ever know the cause of my death. No one will ever find my heart, for you own it now."

She closes her eyes and wordlessly presses her cheek to the side of his head. He puts his arms around her like a child. She suppresses her smile.

"Habibi?" he calls her without pulling back or looking up.

"Yes?"

"You liked the cake Waleed baked for you on your birthday more than my present?"

It takes her a moment to realize what he's talking about and she cannot help chuckling. Burq pulls away this time, straightening up.

"I liked his gesture more than yours, Burq."

"Why?"

"Because money cannot buy you a heart. Only love can win it." She rubs her ring finger subconsciously and shrugs. "He put in effort in baking me a cake and I appreciated it. The necklace you gifted me was gorgeous, but maybe I would've liked it more had you chosen it yourself for me. You simply asked one of your workers to get it for you and deliver it."

He swallows and shakes his head. "I'm sorry."

Leyla arches both eyebrows. "What for?"

"For never being a good husband to you."

"No, Burq." This time she reaches out to cup his face in her hands. "You tried to be a good husband to me despite having your heart broken. You tried to love me and that mattered to me." She smiles sardonically. "I could never have blamed you for not being able to."

"But all the times I've wronged you?"

"I've forgiven you for everything."

"And for not trusting you?"

"Do you now?"

He takes her wrist and kisses the inside of it. "I do."

"Then I've forgiven you for that too."

"That was why you left me, didn't you? Because I didn't believe you when you opened up to me."

Leyla carefully pulls away from his touch. The gleam in his eyes has dimmed, like an ocean under dying sun— like a firestorm extinguished.

"What do you know?" she asks him.

"Only what I remember. Very little, yet enough to conclude this."

"Then we'll talk about it tomorrow." She stands up. "You should get some rest now."

He only nods, appearing reluctant, but listens to her and lies back down. Leyla adjust the blanket over him and smiles down at him lovingly, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"Sleep well. Good night."

"You too, qalbi."

She walks towards the door. When her hand turns the handle, he stops her the last moment before she could leave.

"Leyla?"

She looks back at him. The golden glow from the crescent lamp eases on his side profile, fading on the darker side, sketching patterns across his skin. To her, he appear like a striking artwork— a masterpiece with the most precise strokes. To her, Burq is the most magnificent imperfection.

"Yes?" she responds softly.

"Stay here." He pats the empty spot beside him on the bed. "With me."

➳

Too many things to slow down my writing. The update had to be delayed. But I'll try to give you guys an ending as soon as possible.

Keep sharing your love and thoughts.

Plus, I've a question for you guys. Please answer it for me: as a reader, do you prefer/like books with first person POV or third person?

Until next time.

➳