The story Aesthetic is made by keeping this chapter in mind >3

Motivate me with your abundant comments so I may complete this book before Ramadhan.

Bismillah hir Rahman nir Raheem.

Samra could literally count the clock ticking five agonizing minutes. Her palms felt sweaty and she couldn't jolt up a move, for her legs felt like they were glued to the marbled floor. she gulped before piercing her gaze to fall over her husband, who had fallen to the ground the moment he laid his eyes on her face. And now, he sat, eyes fixed on the decorative flowers that enlightened the whole wall at his front without giving her his attention. She felt as if he us avoiding her gaze.

Her face burned even without the heater turned on. Nervous anxiousness bubbled in the pit of her stomach and she scooped a pile of heartbeats to let her heart be strong for a few more beads of his silence before it collapsed altogether on the floor just like the way Ahmed had done.

This is the first time a species from the opposite gender is seeing her. No one can pen down how much strength she put in to pull out this task. How much convincing her heart debated her brain. How many broken-hushed conversations she had indulged with her own self.

She licked her dry lipstick-stained lips before addressing him. "Ah-Ahmed?".

When addressed he looked up and one look at her face, he turned away, running his hand through his fully made hair, ruffling it in the process.

His blue eyes sting her olive skin.

This was it, this was enough. Samra's heart raced as she stood up, picking her veil that laid over the dressing table. She quickly tied the knot, obscuring her face from his view. Ahmed eyed in nonchalance at what she was doing before he got up from the floor. Standing a few inches away from her.

It was Samra who broke the deafening silence, " It's okay if you don't like —".

"Hey, hey", Ahmed cut in.

She paused, quizzically looking at his disheveled form. " What?", she quirked ger eyebrows.

"Sam", he moved forward, and before the task which he came to meet her slipped his mind, he placed a hand over her hijab-covered head. Making her posture tense. She relaxed a bit when she saw him muttering duas under his breath. After finishing the dua, he let his hand slide down.

" Sam", he called again, looking into her, and she felt his gaze touch the soul inside her body. The feeling burned her skin in a romantic way.

Her throat felt heavy as she answered. "Yes?".

He moved two inches towards her. " Can I see your face?".

A teardrop leaked outside the home of her orbs and she shook her head in affirmative. "You can. For the rest of your life".

His hands again raised in the air, to the back of her head to untangle her niqab. A gasp left his mouth when the covering fell for him to eye her beauty. His breathing stopped. Samra dug her fingers deep in the confines of the material of her lehenga, she looked down as if she was marveling the floor.

" Oh my Allah! You look like Sonam Kapoor".

"Now. Who is she?".

A chuckle escaped his lips. " You don't know her?".

Samra shook her head in a no. "Is she pretty?".

" Not more than you", Ahmed quickly moved to place a small kiss over her forehead, just beneath the lining of her hijab. A nervous chuckle left his mouth as he patted the back of his head for trudging the territories he shouldn't. Samra gulped the knot that clogged her throat before breathing out the breath she unknowingly held in. She didn't look up, her face colored in a beautiful shade of crimson, making Ahmed fall for her even more than he had.

"I thought this day would never come".

She met his gaze, finally looking up. The blue ocean pooled up, waves ready to crash down through his eye line. " I am sorry", Samra meekly whispered.

"It's not your fault".

" But, I am the one who hurt you".

"I said, it's not your fault, Sam. It never was".

They fell in silence, devouring the grand attire they were dressed in, in order to let the reality to sink. They were finally married. How wonderful it is for the sea to at last meet the sky?

" Ahmed".

"Mmm", he hummed, never moving his vision from her petite form.

" It was my fault. I have loved you, since the day you started loving me. Yes, I had a terrible past but I made the mistake to let my fear to remote my rational thinking. I let you down even though I trusted you with my life. Ahmed, from the start, you have been the one and only one who voiced out your feelings. For once, today, can it be the other way around?".

Ahmed's eyes glinted with clear admonition. He blinked at her with the blue of his pupils, sparkling.

"I love you, Ahmed. I have loved you since forever now", Samra choked with a small chuckle, " but never had in myself the guts to speak it aloud", tears rained down her cheeks.

Within a blink of an eye, Ahmed closed the gap. Grabbed her waist towards him, holding her close, stealing a view of her face, yet again. Samra gasped, fear tried to rent her heart but she shooed it away. She placed her hand over his chest, feeling the testaments of his heartbeat and she trusted them, trusted the person who had this beating organ in his chest. He will never do anything to hurt her. And that's all the guarantee she needed to have to entrust her to him.

Ahmed gave her ample time to adjust to his touch, and when her breathing came out in soft wisps from the rather ragged ones, he gently put his finger beneath her dimpled chin for her to look up. "I like this other way around of yours. I love you too, far more than any pens can jolt down. Its might can never be defined in any of the novels that exist in this universe. It's pure. It's contagious, I seriously hoped you would get the infection one day, and Alhamdulillah, glad to know you are infected by my love".

Samra chuckled heartily. " Kudos to you, Doc. Can you not rest a moment without reminding me about germs and infections?".

"Never", He hugged her.

She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.

" I have waited for this moment for so long. Finally, I can call you, mine".

" And, I am so happy to be yours".

And, and that's how they had a fairy tale ending. The knight in shining armor swooped the princess from the deranged land of her fears.

...

Pinching her nose, Jesima sighed for the fourth time. She struggled to untangle the comb from the mess of her hair. The perks of having long hair are rather simple — shampooing them is never easy, waiting for them to dry is time-consuming, combing, oiling, managing and the process went on and one, till the end of a person's thinking capacity(etc)

Giving no proper attention to the hair will lead to a huge mess which in return will become too hard to handle.

Jesima wanted to strangle and pull her hair out in frustration when the comb stuck on the cocoon of brown waves for yet another time. She bit her bottom lip in exasperation.

On one note, she didn't want to disturb her mother to help her as she had just retired to her room for some rest. Yeah, her mother hadn't returned home when she visited the funeral. All Jesima remembered was how hard she had broke down in her father's arms. Though it felt like ages before, not more than eight weeks have crossed from the awful day.

She felt like a part of her was living when the other half died long back.

The sight when the people gathered in crowds took the janazah of her husband still lingered through her mind. How all of him went away yet as she gazed at each corner of his house, she felt him all the more alive.

Regretting that she ever placed a hand over her head, she quickly quipped a band over her hair, deciding that she will deal with them later.

She hated Aashiq for choosing the lamest option. Writing letters as if he lived in the eighties. But, she would be a hypocrite if she didn't agree that she read them a hundred times a day.

After he asked her to read the book of Allah, she did read it. And then, she had a huge breakdown, not at the loss of her most beloved possession in this world but rather she wailed for being so illiterate, and how she thought she has lost her everything was so wrong when she had so many things to be thankful about.

When she accepted for a moment thought that Aashiq was gone, she forgot that in Islam, people dying doesn't mean a full stop. It is not the end.

Rather when people bury the deceased, unknown to them, on a whole different contrary, in a distinct realm, the deceased are being received. A long journey lies ahead of them. Our love for them is very selfish, we only cry for losing them and we are naive to give our heed to what will be happening to them in that life? Are they in good condition? Are their sins outweighing their good deeds?

Our thinking should only lay on how to ease their lives in their graves, and we should whole heartedly pray for their Maghfirah as much as we pray for ourselves.

This Dunya is just an examination hall where we are handed different types of question papers as tests to graduate in the Aakhirah. Just because we are born Muslims doesn't mean we can idly sit and pass our time, each passing second, we are getting closer to our death. With each flicker of the clock in the enjoyment of the world, we are losing the enjoyment of paradise. Creating a Home in this Dunya while our real Home lies in Jannah.

Reading the book opened her eyes. For real. Every piece of her shattered self was reunited to achieve something big. Use the time in her hand to please her Lord. Each day when we wake up, hale and healthy, it's Allah who is allowing us to bring change in our ways. Leave what doesn't benefit us and do what is essential and obligatory.

Aashiq's death. That one incident changed every belief of Jesima. Shut down all the daylights that were on over this transient life and she started preparing to lighten her grave.

Jesima stood up and exited her room towards the kitchen, mentally preparing herself to brew a cup of coffee to aid her migraine. Stirring the ingredients, she saw the back of her mother-in-law facing her.

After making sure the coffee had the apt amount of sugar, she grabbed the mug and walked towards her mil. Placing the mug on the side table, she leaned her head through the crook of her mil's neck, "What are you doing, Ma?", Jesima enquired.

Like her, all the members of the family were going through their own faces to cope with the loss.

Undergoing a heart attack, her mother-in-law had just been discharged from the hospital last week, she felt weak at heart and no one had words to balm her pain. It felt like everyone was burning in the depth of the flames of love they had for Aashiq, and all the members stood limp, watching each other burn. Wishing, begging, crying, whimpering that one day this pain would stop, the pain ignited in this flames would die, they would also experience warmth without feeling a burn — feel the coolness of the evening breeze, see the flicker of the crescent, and enchantment of the nights.

" Looking over these old photos", her mil replied.

Jesima's vision landed over the scattered photos over the table, she circled the sofa to take a seat beside her mil. Taking a photo in her hand, her gaze glued over the picture.

"Ma! Is this —", she couldn't speak aloud his name without feeling nausea bubble through her stomach.

Her mother-in-law slowly took the picture from Jesima's hand, running a hand over the boy who had cake smudges all over his mouth. Memories rushed through her mind, he was eight-years-old when he wailed to celebrate the birthday of the kitten that was newly born. She had made his favorite chocolate fudge cake.

Jabbing the kitten from the small basket, Aashiq squinted it carefully on his chest, balancing it with his elbow, and cut the cake with the other hand.
Cutting and eating the cake, messed him in such a cute way that his mother couldn't help but capture the moment.

He looked adorable.

" Yeah! It's him".

Jesima dizzily stared at the picture, she couldn't believe that she was seeing him, in actuality. Memories of him though how alive,  after he went away felt surreal. She felt like she dreamt all of the moments she lived with him. Her heart sprouted with such waves of grief that it's might caused an earthquake to crush her soul.

"I wish he was here", Jesima whispered, a light crack occurred in her voice, " I really wish".

Her mother-in-law put her palm over Jesima's palm, assuring her in a very feeble way.

Don't cry! Don't cry!

Again, she lost her stamina, her show-casing of strength and she let down the wall of self-defense to the pains to crumble down, accepting defeat and giving the sword in the hands of tribulations to strike her.

She laid down on her mother-in-law's lap while the latter stroked Jesima's hair letting a motherly warmth seep through her brain like a medicine, numbing her in the process.

There was a pin drop silence throughout the hall, except the sound of ragged-tired heartbeats.

"Jesima?", her mother-in-law called, " I want to ask you something, beta?".

Jesima shifted in the lap, looking at her mil's face, "Yes, Ma. What is it?".

"I don't have any reason to be selfish. You can take whatever my son has given you, " She addressed to the will of Aashiq that was Islamically divided over all the members of his family," and I don't want you to be anything but happy. You have a life ahead, beta. It's no age to lead a life of a bewa (widow), please look forward and not back, you are still young, a blossomed bud —".

"Ma! Please", Jesima strangled the words from her throat with difficulty as it clogged more hearing the in-depth meaning of her mother-in-law's words, "Don't ever say something like that. I am happy to be your son's widow and no, I don't have a life when he is not in it. Yes, I am alive but I am not, I died with him, there's no need to give heed to whether I am young or old, I am not considering marriage", Not after the golden one I had with your son. I will safeguard my chastity as long as I live and I believe, I beg to my Rabb to unite me with him once more. There is no me without him. I will not marry or even think of marrying someone else because your son has beautifully ruined me. The touch of his hands still linger throughout my body and I don't want to see anyone except him near me. The cravings will be severe but I know that I will survive because these cravings will be sufficed with the intoxicant presence of only your son. No other. You don't know how proud I an to be your son Aashiq's Aashiqui.

Jesima gulped the rest of the words, a thundering pain shook her entire being and she broke down in her mil's lap, there was no bound to stop the tears from outflowing. She clutched the latter's stomach and let herself shatter like glass. " please don't even let the thought cross your mind. What if your son has gone? Allah has blessed you with another daughter. Don't do this to your daughter, Ma. I beg of you".

Her mother-in-law's fingers trembled as she let her hand caress to wipe the tears off her daughter-in-law's face, and she let that thoughts sink, Jesima is not a daughter-in-law anymore, she is her daughter. She cried more now feeling the pains her daughter is going through.

Jesima's face laid close, close to the place in which twenty-eight years back a boy lived inside the folds of this mother's womb. Safe and sound. Unaware of the cruelties of this world. Too pure to be real. A gem in this insufficient world. An Aashiq of everything that came his way and he didn't notice whichever thing he touched, the thing too turned, reacted, and experienced the depths of the love that seeped through the Aashiq's body. Clearly unaware that even things could reciprocate his feelings and if things could love him, then how much will be the might of the love a person could feel when he showers them with his love?

Sadly, He will never know that the person he loved with his body and soul loved him so much more.

....

Memories are bitter sweet. They are cruel. Once the moment gets over it turns into memories. Good or bad, memories don't go without making us cry, crave to live the moment, if the moment is good- we crave to relive, if the moment is bad- we crave to do better than before, take a different choice, plunge away from the guilt of not spending ample time with loved ones and finally, worship Allah in the best possible ways without postponing them to tomorrow.

Looking at the now scattered letters that she cherished so dearly, Jesima laid her face on top of the last paras that depicted her husband's insurmountable love towards her. Reading it again and again and breathing inside the house he built, the memories of the life that she spent with him ran through her mind in black and whites.

Every single piece of furniture depicted their laughs, the long curtains swept with their happiness, the gorgeous chandeliers glowed with their affection, the water in the pool shimmered with radiance, the trees sang the songs of their love, the sky resembled the foundation of their relationship ensuring them that even though they are not together now, they will surely be again.

When the memory of the touch of his hand ignited dead sparks to run down her spine, she thought about the hand which is now lying above the mud, slowly eradicating by ants and insects, a sincere prayer left her mouth that He lived a rich life in this Dunya, May he have a rich life in his grave, with windows of Jannah opened to air-condition his soul.

And as she remembered his touch, her body silently craved to be touched by him more and a lone tear escaped her eye, wanting to be engulfed by him and yearning to seek refuge in his arms.

Moments like these makes me miss you all the more, I, with all my heart pray that you are living a peaceful life over there.

With that thought she viewed the fragment of the paper on which he had written his last words for her. It read:

I am clutching the nook, catch me before I fall.

-Aashiq.

Beneath that, feeling glad and proud of herself, she started to write, her fingers shivering:

Holding onto you is the best thing I ever did.

-Jesima.

She felt grateful towards her Rabb. Their their destiny was already written and she felt grateful that she caught him before he had a fall. It doesn't matter that what if it's just for a few months or a few seconds. All it mattered to her was that she caught onto him, gave him the love he deserved, and blessed him with her own self.

He had an inkling from the start that he held thin ropes of life in his palms and he felt scared that the innumerable love he had for her will drown him alone and not her by his side and on the same time, he feared that he will walk away without receiving the view of the seed of love sprouting out of the mud and growing green. Alhamdulillah, before he was pulled back to the point he started, he experienced the dream he yearned for.

That is all that mattered to her now.

She didn't know how long she stared at her words, how deeply they scorched her soul and how much agony she felt?

Flash after a flash of the time she spent with him ran like a movie in her head, she smiled when Aashiq acted cute, caring, and loving, her smile resembled addiction and adoration. She cried whenever he touched her heart with his words. "You are my happiness, Jesima", " I love you more", these sentences melted her heart to bleed through her eyes. And the final moments of closeness they both shared caused havoc to run through her spine, ruining her in the most bittersweet way.

She closed her eyes reliving those moments, taking them as her life-saving medicines, she breathed them like oxygen and she was so much immersed in them that when her mind popped a question, she felt all the oxygen she breathed knock out of her eyes.

She gasped opening her eyes.

She stood up from the bed, abandoning all the letters, and ran towards her en-suite bathroom.

How can I be so reckless?

The calendar that showed her date was due eight weeks back.

"I am ovulating, Aashiq", she had said to him.

A moan left her lips in the form of a heart-wrenching cry. Ruining her. Destroying her. Withering her. And also watering her. Letting her grow.

Ovulation happens once in a month in a woman's life until her menopause and whoever tries to conceive during this time achieves the mission.

She was shaking vigorously and with trembling fingers, she opened the cabinet that held medical equipment required in the bathroom and the pregnancy kit looked almost dazy to her eyes. The coffee that she drunk was on the verge to vomit out through her throat. Her head was spinning in circles. She felt stupid to even try the task but she willed herself to do it.

" Saad said that when Allah takes someone away from us, he bestows us with someone better. I want you to give that someone to me, Aashiq".

After taking the test, the kit slipped her hand and fell down the marbled floor. With a gasp, her trembling hand clutched her open mouth.

From the start, whatever Jesima had asked, Aashiq never deprived her of her wishes. He granted them all. He was the person who always brightened other's lives then how can he go away, dimming hers?

No, right?

He didn't go away leaving her empty-handed and the result of the kit was the relief she has been seeking all this while. Perhaps, with him gone, he has left someone in her who will outgrow to love her and take care of her even if he is not alive to do so.

And Yes, the result came positive.

She was pregnant.

***

I am smiling like crazy after writing the last line lol.

Alhamdulillah!

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