ll AsYa OS ll Forgiveness

It had been a month. One month since her divorce with Ayaan had been finalized and she'd removed herself and her belongings from that house. Divorced. That was what she was now, a divorced woman who lived a sham of a marriage for three months to a man she didn't and couldn't love because that place had already been filled by the man who'd locked her into this situation. Zoya sighed and dragged her suitcase up to the check-in desk. The hotel she'd stayed in for the past month was hosting a huge convention for international businessmen so she'd had to check out. She was going to stay in another hotel for a couple of days while trying to figure out what she was going to do next. Go back to New York or . . .

As she waited for the desk clerk to enter her details her mobile rang again, for the umpteenth time. It was him. He'd been calling non-stop for the last couple of days. No that wasn't right, he'd been calling since she moved out of the Siddique house but the past few days it had been more consistent. She ignored it like she'd done all the others. She didn't want to talk to him. She couldn't talk to him. Not now.

She'd always admired his love and affection for his siblings despite the state of their family but he'd sacrificed her to make them happy. Granted she'd made a huge mistake and so had Ayaan but that mistake could've been over with and shouldn't have necessitated him doing this to her. There wasn't a moment that went by that she didn't wonder how he was feeling and if he felt himself dying every moment like she did when she was constantly reminded that she was his brother's wife. When she remembered the future they had planned with each other.

She sighed and took her keys and headed up to her room. Her aapi and jeeju had no idea of what transpired here and after the last time she didn't want them to know. They'd physically drag her back to New York if they knew and she needed to make this decision for herself. She still loved him. There was no question of that but could she trust him? She wasn't so sure now. She opened her suitcase and emptied some of her clothing and toiletries on the bed. She took her toiletries into the bathroom and lined them on the counter and then shoved a couple changes of clothing into the small armoire.

She then slung her half-empty suitcase to the side and flopped onto the bed on her back staring up at the ceiling. She sighed for what had to be the tenth time in the last fifteen minutes. Her phone buzzed in her hand and she closed her eyes taking a deep breath then lifted it and looked at the display, "Mr. Khan calling." She breathed in again and on the exhale she answered the phone. She put the phone at her ear but didn't speak. What would she say? Thanks for making me break all the promises I made to myself about marriage?

"Zoya." She heard his husky voice come across the line and just like that her eyes watered. "Talk to me please Zoya. I . . ." She heard him clear his throat and a tear rolled down her cheek. She couldn't do it. She pulled the phone away from her ear and held it to her chest, closing her eyes and trying to rein her emotions in. She sniffled and put the phone back to her ear. "Yes, Mr. Khan." She surprised herself at how she maintained her composure as she spoke those words. She heard his deep intake on the other line and she choked up, her eyes closing as she listened to him on the other line. Just listening to him breathing made her feel relief, comfort and immense sadness welled up in one.

"I . . . I'm sorry Zoya." His words came out in an agonized breath and she could feel it sear her heart. He'd said sorry already. Numerous times. Promised to make things right. But she still lived in a house where she was either disliked or patronized and she couldn't stand it. She did her duties as was required but she'd not been happy. Ayaan tried to do right by her but she was beyond trying to accept his kindness. She couldn't see much beyond the fact that four lives were destroyed by this decision. And her life with Mr. Khan became a distant and unattainable dream.

"I want to see you." She heard his voice barely a whisper, like he was unsure but he asked anyway. And she heard him. She wished she hadn't but she did and it was hard to ignore the urge in her to see him too. She shook her head and roughly wiped underneath her eyes. "I . . ." she swallowed. "I don't think . . . I mean . . ." She heard him sigh on the line and she knew he knew what she was fighting to say. She couldn't see him. She missed him but she couldn't see him. He broke her trust and she wasn't sure how she could hand it over again. She'd been careless too but she just couldn't . . .

"Where are you?" His voice startled her out of her thoughts. "I'm fine Mr. Khan. There's no need to-" He cut her across his voice taking on a hard edge. "Please Ms. Farooqui, where are you?" She huffed, annoyance replacing the sadness she was just feeling. "I don't see how that's important, Why-" She sighed as he tried to cut her across again. "Allah miya Mr. Khan, what's wrong with-" and she stopped when she realized she was falling into pattern with old habits. The lump in her throat was back.

"Ms. Farooqui-" his voice was softer, "where are you?" She sighed and said, "I'm at a hotel. The only one within walking distance to the masjid." "Thank you." He replied softly. The line went quiet after that and it took her a few beats to realize that he'd hung up.

Zoya paced her room chewing on her lip and looking at her phone every few minutes. Was he going to come here? Was she going to have to face him and re-open wounds that were still fresh four months later? She finally wore herself out pacing and looking at the time it was almost nine at night. No he wasn't coming, she told herself and she rest her phone on the nightstand and went into the bathroom to change into her night clothes to get some sleep. Or at least try to.

She'd just come out of the bathroom when she heard a knock at the door. She looked through the little peephole at the top of the door and swallowed her gasp. So much for it being too late that he wouldn't come. She opened the door after a long minute of internal debating. Asad Ahmed Khan standing there in all his ruggedly handsome glory. His hair had grown out some and his face sported designer stubble. His face however looked drawn and pale. His eyes were shadowed with dark circles and he looked like he needed a couple nights' rest. He seemed to have lost some weight too. All these changes she could see made her heart throb and her words get lost in her throat.

"Can we . . . Can I come in?" She nodded and moved aside as he walked inside his presence making her room feel all the more tiny and confining. She turned and closed the door hesitantly turning around, her eyes not resting on him. "Ms. Farooqui, I know . . . I know you don't want me here and I know you . . . that you don't want to talk to me but I just really needed to say this face to face."

Her eyes lifted and she caught the forlorn look in his eyes before he masked it, his face assuming a neutral expression. "I've said sorry so many times, I've lost count but I am. I am so sorry for everything. I never thought things would get so far and all I could think of in that moment was that if I didn't do this, Nikhat would die. I should've been thinking about you and about us and how much this was going to change our lives . . . temporary or not." He stepped closer staggering her when he takes her hands in his. "Zoya, I know I've broken your trust and I don't have the right to ask anything of you now but every moment that I've been away from you has been like slow submergence in deep waters. I haven't been able to breathe right in the last couple of months."

Zoya saw tears budding in his eyes and her fingers itched to brush them away but she held back. She looked away and down at the floor. She couldn't bear this. This was why she couldn't see him . . . not so soon. It was still a raw wound and she felt the burn in her chest. One hand left hers and tipped her chin up and she reluctantly looked up into his deep dark eyes, clouded with red and a light sheen of tears. Tears stains tracked down his cheeks and she felt the answering tears slip down her own face.

"Mr. Khan . . . I-" He put a finger to her lips to stall her and shook his head. "Please just listen. Please." His voice cracked just a little but it was enough to crack into the wall she'd been slowly building around her heart. "I-I love you, Zoya." He inhaled deeply. "I will love you till the day I take my last breath. Ple-Please forgive me. I will do anything to earn your trust again. Anything."

That little cap she was building around her heart splintered and she couldn't halt the tears that rolled down her face in continuous rivulets. She sank to the floor, her sobs racking her body. The wound was freshly re-opened and bleeding. How could he do to her? How could he just apologize and think everything could be right again? How can he not see how she had suffered? Being a part of a family she didn't know and who didn't know her. Who did nothing but dictate and try to make her into something she wasn't.

No he couldn't just come here looking like he did. Like he'd been in a crash he'd never recovered from. Saying all these things that made her heart flutter and wither all at the same time. No he couldn't. He just couldn't. How she'd tried to keep herself in check. Her emotions under control, to hide her unhappiness and the unfairness of it all. He came here and cracked that to pieces and she couldn't mend it back. It was beyond salvage and her emotions ran wild.

He knelt at her level and wrapped strong arms around her lifting her to her feet. She pushed him back, fighting within the circle of his arms. "Let go off me. You can't . . ." Her breath was coming hard and fast and she struggled to get her words out just as she struggled to get away from him. "Let go off my arms, Mr. Khan." She fought against him, her palms slapping against his chest. "Forgiveness? You want me to forgive you? I can't . . . I-" she breathed in deeply trying to get her emotions under control, "I can't forgive you, I can't forgive-"

The words just kept tumbling out of her mouth. And she could feel his lips moving against her hair. She listened and she could just make out what he said though it was muffled against her hair. He was saying, "I know. I'm sorry. I love you." Over and over again. He kept repeating it like a mantra against her hair and she smacked his chest, "No you don't. You don't." She melted into him unable to fight against him anymore. She didn't have the energy. "I love -" She said breathlessly. "I love you . . . too." He held her face between his palms and looked into her eyes, "I know." And leaned his forehead onto hers.

It couldn't be called forgiveness but merely giving into the inevitable. Something she'd never be able to deny. There was only and would always be one man in her heart and his name was Asad Ahmed Khan. As much as her heart bled at what they'd both been through because of the decisions made, that fact would never change. Trust would be a work in progress, a start from the top but she was going to be open to it. She couldn't go back to New York. She couldn't go far from him because they were two hearts connected irrevocably, in happiness and sadness, in everything that wouldn't ever change because no matter where she went, he'd always be with her.