OS: The Red Kabul Snow COMPLETE

Today marks one week since the pitter-patter of an expected angel came to a roaring halt right outside my doorstep. He looks at me like he despises my insides and that if he had the will, he would pull my guts out, string them around his fingers and hang 'em out to dry. But he does not have the strength to wage war. Nor do I have the courage left in me to take a blow. I am drained and so is he. Breathing now is an act all too cruel when it was a celebration of life just days ago.

The white snow flakes don't look so white anymore. Not to my eyes, probably not his either for they were turned red on my count. As he holds me tight at night, his wandering eyes no longer meet mine. We sit close, hands touching but thoughts miles apart. Smiles fluttering on the corners of our lips but sadness bleeding dry our spirits.

Hindsight is 20/20 they say, but no one ever told me afterthought is an enemy so bad, you shouldn't wish it upon your mortal foe. Why then I, the queen of Hindustan, with the benefit of retrospect in my pocket, curse my past judgement? I wish there was a way to stop reflecting on what is gone and move toward the future but I am afraid my endless conscious will force me to bear my cross the rest of eternity. I am the heaven's criminal and unworthy of anyone's forgiveness, most of all his.

I refuse to take the coward's way out. My life's end will do nothing to resolve his lost battles. "I have failed you my dear", I whispered in his ear a thousand times and today again I tell him, more determined than ever, "you know I've failed but my God knows I've tried".

I break down as his silent gaze pierces my skin. Why won't he comfort me? I feel like the highest sinner in my heart but the hatred in his eyes elevates my crimes to another degree. I go down on my knees, holding on to his ankles, I try one last time.

"If I could, I would switch places in a heartbeat with my loves, I would take all the tests, all the grieves that came their way. You know I have failed but my God knows I've tried".

Finally, the hatred in his eyes gives way to empathy, or pity, or another emotion lesser than forgiveness for I know not of a reason he should find it in his heart to forgive me. He wraps his limp fingers around my shoulders, clutching on to the flesh like it is delicate glass. His mind intents to lift my weight off the floor but the piercing ache in his muscle does not cooperate. When he sees my dizzy eyes pleading for no more exhaustion, he falls back, landing against the brick wall. Loud thuds emanate from his side as his skull meets the mortar over and over again. Panic stricken, I feebly intervene with my hand shielding his head. As my pain makes love to his hurt, I think about the reminder of lost hope every sunrise brings. I see the darkness of bleak future setting in with the black night. I feel the pings of pain waving through the air. Exhausted by his anger and agitated by the dullness of his grief, he gives up to inaction.

"Why Jodha? Why am I alive? Why am I left unpunished?"

Fresh pearls appear in his sockets as our thoughts converge again. I taste the dry salted tears on my cheek and say, "I am sorry".

"It's not...", that's all he can say before grief takes over again. He screams, he howls like an injured animal. His grip on my torso becomes tighter until I am engulfed in the hollows of his chest. I can see the deep cut in his heart that his two babies took away when they died. It's not bleeding any longer, but it is present staring into the eyes of the looker.

"It's not your fault Jodha", the words come out of his mouth like groans. "It's not your fault that our princes are with Allah. They were needed up there in heaven. Perhaps, more than we needed them here".

But I was the one with malaria. If only I had kept away from my babies, they would still be alive.

"I got the dreaded fever first. I was the one who made them sick. I almost killed you too", he speaks guiltily into my ear like it is the darkest confession of his life. "I am sorry Jodha. I am too ashamed to even meet your gaze. I am not worthy of you. I did this to you".

"No", I say instinctively and with those words escaping my mouth I realize we both feel wrong and we both feel wronged. We both hate ourselves like we hate the other. I know that forgiveness is a far cry now but this day will mark the beginning of our healing together. So what if we couldn't save our babies in time? We will save each other for I refuse another loss. No longer will dear God take away love from me for I have given enough.

As he nurses my bruised hand with his apologetic kisses, I run my free fingers through his scalp. "My love, it's not your fault either", I say as we both fall asleep in the other's embrace.