On the intricate Islamic art embroidered prayer mat, Nawal prostrated, pouring her heart out to the One above all His creations. In the serenity of late night, she lost time as she cried to her Lord who knew her deepest thoughts. Tears trickled down her eyes, trailing along her nose dampening the prayer mat.

She had been negligent of the consequences one's action can lead to. In her youth and gullibility she had made wrong decisions. Trusting her heart and believing others had pure intentions as her, she had swept with the wind until she was hit by a big boulder. This time the scars were much deeper. She pondered, what her life become. One minute she was forced to marry a man she had never thought of as more than a brother and when she was finally accustomed to this marriage, she was divorced with only a statement. But that was half the truth. Had she left her past bury where it belonged and not bring her past with the present this wouldn't have happened. To her, Daud had been a symbol of hope. Her hope had been right under her nose. Her husbands. Rather than fixing her relationship with Salman she had sought hope from someone else. Now that they were growing closer, Daud had played his ultimate game.

She sniffed and her shoulders shuddered. Her arms ached for prostrating for so long but this discomfort was far less than what her soul was enduring. When people snored away in the cold winter night, she was awake crying out for forgiveness. Repenting to the one who will listen. A plea escaping her lips.

"Forgive me and ease my affairs..."

This wasn't the first night she cried to her Creator. She had lost count of the many nights she was silently weeping on the prayer mat. In the quietness of the night, her heart cries were only heard by One and only. Allah loved the worshipping of late night when His slave is awake in the darkness of the night.

Minutes to hours were in prayer in solitude. In fact, she found herself asleep on the mat when the predawn prayer fajr phone alarm would startle her from her light sleep.

Days were spent in bleakness. Nothing mattered. She had locked herself in the privacy of the guest room. No one approached her except Seema. She didn't even entertain her. There were times when her aunt was more of a mother than her own mother. And in the last few days this was clearly evident.

As for Salman, he had made himself even more scarce since the last time she had spoken to him. After Manal's insult and Salman's deafening silence over the issue, Nawal had given up. There was no point in begging to the creations when she could beg to the Creator and will not be demeaned. In fact, as she prayed late night, she felt her heart at ease. Her beliefs strengthening and for the first time in ages hope was finally enlightening in her heart.

.

Perhaps, this was most important in life. Indeed, when she had trust in Allah all her affairs will work out because He was the best of the planners.

Verily, He is the Most Merciful and will not let His slave's plea unanswered...

****

The sun was slowly rising as the Earth and all that it contains bathed in the orange red hues brightening from the darkening night. Seema sat stiff on the living room sofa with a tasbih (a string of beads used to recite supplications) between her forefinger and thumb. Her lips were silently moving and every few seconds a bead would be flickered down the string. Her eyes were trained on the stairs waiting.

The person she was most thinking of conjured on the stairs just as she expected. Salman stood on the stairs with his head bowed down, jacket hung over his arm and laptop back on the other hand, His top two buttons of his shirt carelessly undone and his hair a clear mess.

"I need to have a word with you," Seema broke the eerie silence startling Salman who jerked to a stop.

As every day, he expected everyone to be asleep before he left for work. But alas, his mother had cornered him. He had been avoiding any confrontation with anyone. It hurt too much to talk about how his life had turned into a living hell. There were times at work when he would close his eyes believing this was all a nightmare. He had been on the verge of happiness where slowly Nawal had broken down all walls she had built around her. But it was all deceitful ploy. He didn't know what to believe and what not to. He had nothing to say to his mother. Nothing.

"Ammi I am getting late." He murmured, his eyes floored.

"Salman just one minute," she crossed the room, ready to stop him. Her desolate eyes noted how much her son had changed in the last one month. He lost immense weight. The shirt that used to be snug fit was now clearly loose around him.

Salman instantly stiffened when Seema touched gently his back, "Beta you don't have few minutes of the day for your mother?" her eyes implored him.

Conceding to her request, Salman slowly exhaled, "Jee Ammi?"

"How long will you continue to be this angry? Beta, once please sit and think calmly. You know Nawal since childhood, she would never ever cheat you." Seema began the lecture she had memorized in her mind. But Salman head tilted sideways and he smiled sardonically,

"Ammi, I would have never believed if someone came and told me about Nawal but I saw it myself. I ... I ..." he looked away, he couldn't express what he felt. His heart was in pieces now. He was living on a single thread of sanity. He knew how hard he was trying to stay strong in such testing times.

"Not all what you see is what the truth beholds." Seema raised an eyebrow, "Did you hear Nawal's side of the story. How could you believe whatever Daud said? Doesn't your wife deserve at least to defend herself?"

Anger sparked in Salman's eyes and his jaw clenched, "I know what I saw there was nothing left to reason." He stepped back, "I don't forgive Ammi. Not after all this."

"No, my son. When Allah can forgive so can we. Besides the Quran clearly states we should be forgiving to others. In Surah Al-Nur Allah has said, '.' [Quran 24: 22] Please Salman cool down beta for the sake of your married life and most importantly for the sake of your child."

"I don...." He clamped shut his mouth instead of what he was about to say. He was ready to express his doubt about the baby. But for some reason he wasn't able to say it out loud. Instead, he made the same lame excuse again, "I am getting late." Salman spun around and head out of the house, escaping the seas of doubts, and the vicious accusations.

"Salman please think over," Seema called out behind him.

Salman strides gained speed and he slid in the car seat, closing the door from any sounds that would remind him of his despair relationship with his wife. His hand clenched on the steering wheel but he didn't have the strength to start the car. Instead, his chin lowered to his chess, his arms stretched and hands curled around the steering wheel, he was lost in thoughts. His eyes shut remembering some of the poignant moments of his marriage. The times when Nawal and he had shared smiles and laughs. Albeit, they were very few but were blissful moments. He would treasure those moments forever.

Where did he go wrong? Or was there relationship really deteriorating? Why didn't he see any signs? Something was amiss. Either Nawal was the world class actor or Daud had really taken advantage of the opportunity. Then what was she doing in his office?

He rubbed his full stubble cheek on his sleeve covered forearm when his eyes lingered on a couple coming out of the house in front of him. The man had his arm around his heavily pregnant wife's waist and was helping her in the car.

His hands clenched further on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He looked away, his eyes watered without his will. He missed this bond with her. He had been sincere but she...

His mouth turned dry as his blood heated with fury, the images he tried so hard to forget flooded back. His wife in another man's embrace.

His trembling fingers found the key in the ignition and he twisted it to bring the engine to life.

He was not forgiving at all.

Then why was it so difficult this time?

*****

That evening Salman was home early. He arrived right in time for dinner. Seema was placing the rice dish at the centre of the dining table when Salman walked in, her face broke into a smile, "You are early today." She delighted. "Go hurry up and change so you can join us for dinner."

Nodding Salman left the room and within few minutes, he joined the family at the dinner table. Seating himself on the chair, he subtly noticed that Nawal was missing. It was at the tip of his tongue to ask about her but his pride stopped him from asking where she was.

Quietly, he helped himself to a serving of rice. As he was taking the first spoonful of rice in his mouth, Adil, his Dada jaan asked, "Bahu (daughter in law), did Nawal eat?"

The rice in his mouth forgotten, his eyes riveting to his mother. Seema oblivious that she was being observed answered as she filled Dada jaan's glass with water, "Nahi Aba jee. She isn't feeling well."

Adil's grey eyebrows knotted, "What is wrong with her?"

Salman held his breath, waiting for his mother to explain.

"She has been vomiting a lot. I just gave her tea and toast in the evening. She is asleep now."

Adil was thoughtful, "Hmmm..." his gaze meeting with his grandson's. "Take her to a doctor to make sure she is well. We should take care of her at this stage."

"We did visit the general physician and she said it's normal for her to be vomiting and feeling nausea. There isn't much medicine to take." Seema murmured, filling her plate with rice.

Salman too looked down at his plate. For some reason, the food that looked delectable a few minutes ago didn't appeal to him anymore. He forced himself to eat unable to express his thoughts that were lingered on Nawal and her health. It was his pride that had robbed his speech to ask or show his concern about her.

Only the cutlery noise was heard as the looming cloud of despair had surrounded the happy family. Each one of them acutely aware of the dire situation. However, towards the end of dinner, Adil made up his mind to speak.

"I spoke to Ibrahim and told him the disgusting acts of his son. Daud should have been taught from the beginning what is right and what is wrong. But all because of that gori (white woman), he was not given good teachings."

Seema's eyes widened, "Aba jee, you shouldn't have. I think the word has leaked out. This afternoon Mrs. Rehman called me asking about what is going on."

Adil slammed his fist on the table, "I want the world to know how disgraceful Daud is."

Salman jaw clenched, "You are ruining Nawal's name in all of this."

Adil's eyes narrowed, "What do you care?"

"Let matters stay private. We don't have to become the talk of the town." Salman persisted.

"I don't understand you boy. One minute you don't want your wife and you divorce her. Next minute you are protecting her honour. Make up your mind." Adil leaned back in his chair.

Salman pushed back his chair in frustration and rose to his feet, "Whatever is between my wife and me remains private. I don't want others gossiping." His gaze shifted to his mother, "Ammi next time don't entertain calls from such gossip queen aunties." With that, he strode off leaving his family gaping at his back.

Adil lips twitched, "I think he will soon change his mind. He is regretting what he did."

Muhammad frowned, "I don't want Salman making the same mistake of trusting her again."

Manal sniggered, "I doubt bhai will forgive. He never forgives."

Adil glared at Muhammad and Manal.

"Manal, I don't want to hear a word from you about this again," Seema reprimanded her. Manal rolled her eyes in defiance.

Seema opened her mouth to also give out to her husband and defend Nawal but she rightly quietened. This was no time to argue with her husband in front of her father in law. She will be having a lengthy talk with her husband tonight.

It was couple of hours later, Seema sauntered in the bedroom where Muhammad was settling back in the bed after a tiring dinner. She stood beside the bed with her arms crossed and her legs slightly apart defensively.

"Why are you so much against Nawal?" she went straight to the point.

Slowly, Muhammad sat up on the bed, "Seema you know why."

"I want to hear it from you." She gritted her teeth.

"I feel the girl is a trouble maker and not worthy of any trust." Muhammad honestly replied.

For a long moment, Seema stared at Muhammad. "Why do I feel it's not Nawal you are angry at but you are bringing back the past here."

Startled, Muhammad jerked back, "What are you accusing me of?"

"Be honest here. Did you ever forgive me?"

His eyebrows furrowed and his lips curled in displeasure, "What kind of a question is that? I was never upset with you over that. Did I ever show any kind of resentment towards you?"

Her eyes never blinked as she said what she had feared the most, "You may have never said or done anything but your eyes spoke. I always saw myself guilty in your eyes."

He waved his hand dismissing the matter, "that's absurd."

"Is it? Then stop being hostile towards Nawal. She has done nothing compared to what I had committed. When you can forgive that you can make your son forget Nawal's trivial mistake."

"You call being in another man's embrace a trivial mistake?" Muhammad's eyes widened.

"All I am saying learn to forgive and teach that to your son. I know my niece." She pointed at his chest, "It's your sinister nephew Daud who trapped her."

"Don't start this Simi."

Her lips pursed, "You really distressed me."

He just turned to his side and covered his body with the quilt. It was when Seema lay on her side of the bed, her back facing him, Muhammad said in the quiet room, "Fine I will do as you said."

Seema closed her eyes, a tear trickling down her temple to the pillow, "Thank you."

Talking about the past had opened old scars that still marred her soul.

Sins were never forgotten and today she realized as she heard her husband's soft snores, never forgiven.

In all these years, she lived in an illusion that her husband had forgiven her. But the reality was – he never did.

*****

Early next morning, there was a change in Salman's routine. He took his time to get ready for work with one intention. It was his duty to make sure she was alright. He was convincing himself that is all he was doing – fulfilling his duty. As he climbed down the stairs, he was glad he had gone late to work that day.

From Nawal's room, he could hear his mother's loud voice, "Nawal get up, please. You are worrying me."

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