Rule: infinite comments.

Bismillah hir Rahman nir Raheem.

Love is not picture perfect.

Love is blind.

Love can never be ending.

Love is eternal.

Love exists even when the loved one doesn't.

For Jesima, the picture of Aashiq is so perfect that when the paint  started to smudge with slight curves of imperfection making the radiant colors dim, the bright color mingle with light shades contrasting the whole painting-she doubts her own eyes. She was deceived by her own beliefs. Her own vision.

No human is perfect, yes, he/she can be multitalented. Everyone is. But never can somebody be perfect. Flaws define us. Character us. Our imperfections lead us to be a perfect role model. Our mistakes structure us. Our failures shape us. They carve us to not repeat the things that we would regret later, especially the ones whose bitterness we have already tasted.

Maahi was not as excellent as Shabna describes him to be. Ali was not as exceptional as Fathima narrates him to be.  But, when Jesima sees Shabna looking at her husband, she sees stars in her brown irises. The same implies to Fathima. Finally, the same implies to her. Her description of Aashiq was so perfect when he as a human was not. In her bubble, he was her hero. He was the knight in shining armor. No matter if they lacked a kingdom to rule; for her, he was the king and she was his queen, Life-a fairytale and in each other's arms they live happily ever after.

Poke.

The Bubble.

Burst.

Just like that everything went downhill. The shell she cocooned in was broke apart to reality to sink in. For everyone, the start of their married life is so epic, following with the getting-to-know-each-other-phase, the-falling-in-love phase, the being-in-love phase, the creating-a-family phase, and finally living-an-ever-after phase. During the getting-to-know-each-other-phase, each of the spouses feels that Allah has given somebody for them-to love and to live. The wait gets over. That period is precisely when we see our other half as a unique piece of art specifically designed for us to keep. Their every move attracts us. Their every act makes us smile. Their every word makes us fall. Nothing seems out of place. Nothing seems odd. All of our wishes get granted and all of our dreams become a reality.

Poke.

When a few months pass in each other's company, the spouse becomes like our own skin. We don't feel embarrassed about literally anything. We can talk about our innermost secret and can never fear that they would judge us. They become the clothing we adorn ourselves with. They become the smell of the perfume we sense. They become the taste of our temptations. With each rising sun, we fall in love with them. A day won't pass if we don't see their face. An hour would seem like a year if we were to be separated for a while.

Poke.

Then comes the best part. Being in love. We wake up to look at the arms we fall asleep in. We crave the touch of their hand which made us feel heaven. Their smiles makes us smile. Their happiness becomes our own. We can never see saltwater pooling their orbs. We do everything in our might to not hurt the other. We walk hand-in-hand, heart-in-heart, soul-with-soul encompassed within. We don't find words to thank our Creator for creating this masterpiece which we call our own.

Poke.

A few yards of time later, we find each other's xerox copies running around all through the house causing dramas and havocs. The couple see minions crafted half of him and half of her-playing, crying, meowing, pouting, and smiling in front of them to melt their hearts. Gratitude would seep their veins. Tears of love would glint in their eyes.

Poke.

Wrinkles creep our skins, hair turn grey, bones start to bend, steps start to falter but the love never wavers. The affection in being in each other's union always will bring a fresh gush of solace. Serenity is what we would feel. The numbers of our age start to descend, our days become numbered but the tears of separation would never leave our eyelids. We smile a tempting grin because we see it as a temporary detachment, we believe firmly that we will meet our spouse at the end of the road of our death. Our union will resemble the sun touching the ocean space, the sky kissing the landscape, and like the pollen cuddling the grain. Infinite.

Life may seem unfair for some. Sometimes, our other half would not turn out to be what we expected, wished, and dreamt of. Fitting within would be hard. Choices may vary. Preferences may clash. But, always trust the One and Only, who created her from him.

He, the Exalted, knows exactly what we need instead of the one we crave. When He created Adam and left him to wander over heaven, the human-made of clay wasn't satisfied with all the never-ending happiness he was offered. He silently craved for something he could feel peaceful within. Then, Allah made Hawa to fulfill his desires and to make him feel contended.

He knows A mere wayfarer doesn't worth our cost. Our hearts deserves someone who we will wish to spend our eternally ever after with. There always is a time for everything to occur. Our knight would sweep us off our feet when He wills to be and surely it would happen exactly when we are ready to accommodate someone to travel a lifetime with.

Hurrying to pluck a rose, we only hurt our palms with thorns. If we only patiently wait, a garden would await for us to water and cherish.

The mistake Jesima did was to give control of her heart wholly to a human when he was not capable of it. Aashiq was flawless in her eyes but the truth was that she was blinded by the love that blossomed within her own self towards him. She blindly loved him even when he wasn't as attractive as he seemed earlier to be, on close notice his face had almost black colored freckles all over his dust creme cheeks. She loved him despite his detachment of morning sleeps. She loved him even when he preferred Indian breakfast when she craved for English food. She liked him despite his choice of perfume which was too sweet for her preference. She loved him even when he wasn't as she wanted him to be because at the end of the day, she didn't love his physical being rather she loved his inner soul.

Now, a part of her held hatred towards his adamant self. His male ego clashed with her feminist emotions. For a moment, it made her wonder whether she loved him for real?

His parents were more disappointed in him than her. They, including her, couldn't understand why he was so focussed, immature, and ignorant while taking life decisions?

Standing at the peak of a breakdown, she couldn't help herself but feel overwhelmed. Aashiq was admitted to the hospital for more than a weak now. All the tests were taken to determine how severe and how much the tumor has spread in his brain. The tests involved not only physical forbearing but immense emotional strength to see him undergo such complex tests.

It didn't end just with that, the suffering he underwent was so hard to take in. His headaches came with an extra level of boost. Often a time, he felt like his head would blast with the amount of pain it stormed with. His vision would palpitate. Even his walking took a trance, his steps started to falter, fatigue wrapped him in its arms and dizziness soothed him into oblivion.

Aashiq took all his might to bite the pain in and not to scare his loved ones with his traumas. Though they don't show him their weakness, they feel all the pain he felt.

Jesima sighed, her dark circled eyes drooped slightly as she opened Aashiq's room door. Her gaze was flickered down as she made her way to the opposite single bed which was specifically put forth for the patient's attendant. She could feel Aashiq's eyes fixed on her but she didn't have the strength to look into those greyish green wells, not after the last card of stunt he had pulled.

He was reading surah - Mulk, after praying his Isha salah clad in the hospital bed. When once she had asked him what was he doing? He simply had replied, "When you have given a passport to travel, is it not necessary to prepare for a secured visa?".

She pulled the small bedspread the hospital offered over her petite form and was about to close her tired eyes when she heard him call her name, "Jesima?".

Her fingers stilled the action in her hand and she breathed out the breath she didn't know she was holding. Her glazed brown irises clashed with his grey ones.

" Jesima?", He called again.

"What do you want, Aashiq?".

" Why do you sound angry?".

She let out a small chuckle to graze her lips. "After all the things you do, you expect me not to get angry with you?".

His silence urged her to speak further. " How can you let Samra go to Gaza? Tell me you were kidding about giving her the permission to go there".

"Jesima, she deserves to go".

" For once", Jesima bit her bottom lip with resentment and pressed her thumb in the middle of her index finger to show the number-one in a pleading way, "For once, take this in your mind that just because your name translates to be a 'lover' doesn't mean you are freaking good at that", she shook her head, " because you aren't. You are very much selfish at that, Aashiq. You are pretty selfish".

"It's not about Samra, is it? It's about me? You are highlighting the faults in me?".

Jesima got up to a sitting position and let out a strangled laugh. " It's about everyone. Everyone who is suffering and would suffer from your immature decisions".

Aashiq ran his hand through his hair. "What do you want me to do?".

" I want you to take the surgery along with all the treatments that would come, Aashiq. Is that too much to ask for?", now, her voice fell into a pleading whisper.

"Jesima--",

"--Aashiq, please. I, your parents and everyone want to see you live. We want to be with you. Do you think we could live a day without you in it?".

Aashiq's vision blurred and he looked down at his lap, Jesima's heart broke even more than it was, she pushed the comforter away from her legs and rushed towards his bed. She sat beside him and cupped his face in her palms. His beard prickled the insides of her palm. When he looked up, his eyes were almost glistening with stars. " Do you?", she whisper questioned.

"You want me to tell the truth or a lie?", his voice came out rasped.

" Always the truth".

"You are right about the selfish part about me, Jesima. I would never want you to move on with someone else. I am selfish enough to pray in my every prayer that you should only be mine, I want to even trademark you to be eternally m-i-n-e", he closed his eyes and a few drops fell out due to the sudden closure, she looked away because she couldn't take in the intensity of his words. " I can't even imagine sharing you with someone else".

She gave a hearty laugh at his words. "You are foolish to imagine that, Aashiq", she caressed his cheeks.

The skin beneath her fingers dimpled and she couldn't stop herself from falling in love with him all over again. " It's not like I don't want to live. Heck! You don't even know how much I want to", his hand flew to hold her hand in his, "but I have an instinct that I won't be able to make out very far in this world. I have an inkling that my time is limited and that's why I dont want to take the treatments. I dont want to give you guys false hopes", his orbs held so much sincerity of truth that she couldn't help but scoff.

" I told you that we as humans are created for a purpose. Apart from fulfilling our responsibilities of worshipping Allah, we are created to fulfill the space between dots, in this vast universe. When I come to think of it, I realise the reason why I was created in the first place

"Jesima, you have beautiful goals to serve for this ummah and I now realise that I am just a reservoir who came to uplift your dam with essential water. Some torch to enlighten your way. You have a life ahead and you won't find me in the pages when you turn them around. I came only to fill a few chapters of your life--",

Jesima placed her finger over his lips to stop him from talking idle talks. "If you think that's what is the reason, then I am willing to drop my dreams for you. I am selfish when it comes to you", she earnestly bellowed.

Aashiq shook his head. " Don't say that. Don't ever say like that", his voice trembled, and his lips slightly began to shiver, "Do you remember with whose foundation we started our relationship?".

She nodded her head, confusion marred her forehead."How can I forget?".

" Tell me whose?".

"With the example of the Prophet Muhammad (Peace be upon him) and Aisha (Radhiallahu anha)", she replied.

" Now you ponder over their relationship. Allah gifted the Prophet, Aisha to not only lead a homely life but also to cause a high revolution in preaching Islam. He died but his teachings didn't. His hadith's didn't. Even though she was a woman, she quoted the highest numbers of Hadiths. She became the most beautiful and wise scholar of Islam.

"Don't you know the spectacular love both the husband and wife shared? Even though they loved each other so much so that its might could shake the highest of peaks and the deepest of oceans, He died. He died in her lap. He died when she was just eighteen. Do you think it would have been easier for her to live almost fifty years without the Prophet accompanying her each step?

" It wasn't. Their love was the best love that ever happened in this world. The best love this earth has ever experienced but still they were separated. Do you know why?".

Tears gushed out of her eyes without any control and her heart was in her throat. "Because this earth can't withstand the weight of some love stories. This transient world can't bear such extreme levels of endearment. They are left to live eternally in a blissful life in Heaven where there wouldn't be any fear of separation, any pain to stimulate each other to feel it's wisps. There would lay happiness, only happiness".

" You know, you gave me one more reason to hate you", she cackled amidst shedding tears of love for him, and only for him.

***

Okay?

A short chapter that I couldn't complete with patience. The moment I wrote this masterpiece, I wanted to publish and so I did.

How was it?