CHAPTER 13 - A MAN’S HEART IS A WRETCHED, WRETCHED THING.

Didn't Khaled Hosseini quote it rightly so in his book? , "A man's heart is a wretched, wretched thing. It isn't like a mother's womb. It won't bleed. It won't stretch to make room for you." Ahmed is no different. His heart wasn't like a womb or a heart anymore. It behaves like an organ that changes shape according to mood and instance. It probably had been waiting for an opportunity. 

Cyra's mother was fast asleep after her ranting session with Ahmed. Cyra returned to her mother after settling the jobs at home. She could manage the mess left behind after her mother's misfortune all alone. She had made dinner for them all and brought separately packed food for each. She woke her mother up, made sure she was fed and cleaned and checked with the staff nurses if timely injections were given. Cyra was too tired herself but did not let her mother notice it. But Ahmed did. He sensed all the changes that happened with Cyra.

'You look aghast. I think you should rest a bit. I can manage here.' He offered to help, but Cyra declined. Though she liked him a lot, she did not entertain people taking her role. She knew how important it was for her to stay with her mother, and she did. She sent Ahmed back home and promised to leave with him when he returned. When Ahmed was preparing to leave, Cyra's mother held his hand and asked, 'Will you keep your promise, Ahmed?' And he nodded in acknowledgement. 

'What promise? What's going on?' Cyra was clueless. 

'Oh, it's just our little secret, Cyra.' Ahmed winked and left.

Cyra spent the night peacefully sleeping beside her mother, and she kept a watch over her pain control overnight. As promised, Ahmed came in the morning to pick her up, and Cyra had arranged for a nurse to stay with her mother in their absence. At home, Cyra rested well until Ahmed returned from his office. She had been waiting for him to arrive because her room was overflowing with scraps of fabrics, finished dresses displayed on stands, and her sewing kit lay splayed across the floor. She requested that she shift some of her materials to Ahmed's place until she sorted things at home, and Ahmed willingly agreed. They moved her overflowing items from her room to Ahmed's. Cyra was visiting the building after Ahmed's stay for the first time, and she loved how organised the house was. 

She strode along the house and glanced at the neatly stacked spices in the kitchen and the well-tucked-in bed sheets in his room with perfectly placed books on his shelf. Cyra reached her hand towards her dress, sliding off the hanger at the same time as Ahmed did. Their hands grazed momentarily, and they bore into each other's eyes. Cyra broke her eye contact as reality snapped at her. Cyra felt the moments grow intense every second between her and Ahmed, and to break the silence, she began speaking. 

'Ahmed, I plan to request the doctors for an early discharge and hire a home nurse for Ma. What do you think?'

'That sounds like a good plan. We both are here anyways, and she would feel better here. I think you should go ahead with what you think.'

'Thanks, Ahmed. For all this. For what you have done for me and ma. We would have been at crossroads without you. Really.'

'I am doing the least I could, and that's nothing. But you should have told me, Cyra. Everything that you both have been going through because of me.'

'What? Sorry, but I don't get what you are saying.'

'You pretend so well, don't you? But there is really no need. It's me, Cyra. And you could have told me about the rumours and struggle in your business because of me.'

''Ma shouldn't have done this. That's really.....'

'She didn't even know what she was talking about. She told me when she was drugged up for the surgery. So, there's no need to be angry with her.'

'It's not you, Ahmed. It's the people. They have been damaging our lives ever since. I am so used to this that it doesn't affect me anymore. And what they say doesn't bother me. And do you know, people have been calling Ma a witch, a seductress and whatnot? She struggled so much for us to get here. But you know what they still say? They say that she must have slept with multiple men to have gotten here as a single mother without any support. So you see, it isn't that bad.'

'I am really, really sorry, Cyra. What you have gone through is pure torture, and it must have been tough.' As Ahmed spoke, Cyra broke down, and tears gushed down her cheeks. Ahmed wiped her tears gently with his thumb and momentarily held her face. Bottled with her emotions, Cyra gave away under the comfort of Ahmed's hands. Ahmed embraced her gently and kissed her forehead. She felt at peace and relaxed under his hold. Cyra felt her worries disappear, and her head cleared a bit.

'Tauba, Tauba.' A huge cry at Ahmed's door broke his loving hold of her. Cyra turned with shock to find her mother's second cousin standing at the door. Very few people stayed in touch with her family on and off, at least for selfish reasons. Few sometimes reached out to them for free products, and some people came back into their lives after settling well. 

'Mami, what are you doing here?'

'I came because I heard your mother broke her bones. I came running to her only to see this.'

'Mami, Ma is still in hospital. And I can explain....'

'Ha! What do you want to explain about your harami habits? No wonder people speak so badly about you. I will come later and visit your mother. We probably will have more to discuss later.'

Ahmed wanted to take a stand for Cyra, and he yelled back in response, 'Cyra is no harami. I am her family's well-wisher, and we both like each other. I have already given my word to her mother about marrying her. So there's is no need to scrutinise her like this.' Cyra stood blank, staring at Ahmed dubiously.

The surprise visitor left as soon as she came without even turning back. Cyra held her forehead in distress and rushed back home. The same day, rumours broke out about Cyra and Ahmed taking various shapes and narratives. If there is something that travels faster than light, that is definitely the rumours that neighbours and relatives carry.

To be continued…

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