The Longest Autumn

Momina was sleeping again, this time under the influence of painkillers and some other medicines. Fayra and Danish were sitting silently, maintaining one hand distance on the couch. She looked at her left side, Danish was seeing his mobile screen. 

She grimaced, here she was getting bored on the other hand he had a mobile phone to pass his time. With a thought to watch whatever he was watching, Fayra slowly shifted a bit closer, however she found that he wasn't watching anything but chatting with someone— too indulged that almost forgot about privacy. Fayra was reading each and every text being exchanged between two. They were talking about culture, responsibilities, politics, religion and what not. She didn't remember when he talked to anyone this long. She rested her head against the wall, now her back was hurting because of sitting from the morning. Glancing at the wall clock she found it around eight at night, another glance at Danish's mobile and now he was exchanging some reels with the same person. A curious Fayra tried to see the name of that person, it was her old habit to sneak peek in Danish's life, how could she forget all those habits too easily? She didn't like the idea of Danish as her husband but never disliked his company, his presence and his matters. Still fixing her eyes on the screen her eyelids started feeling heavy. And soon she didn't realise when she dozed off. 

Danish was still talking to the one present on the other side of the screen. His fingers were running on the keyboard with the speed of light but something distracted him. A quiet, gentle hum coming from his right side, with every passing breath, steady and light. A slightly open mouth, tilted head resting against the wall, messy curls kissing her cheek and she was fast asleep.  

Danish's breath hitched. This is what he was running away from. Her beauty, her presence, her fragrance. Everything makes him mad every single time.

How many times he had struggled to stop feeling what he felt after seeing her, but his stubborn heart didn't know to resist this lady. 

Just stop it Danish. She is not yours anymore. She feels nothing for you. Enough! Have some self-respect! And he rested his head against the wall while closing his eyes. 

Some time slipped from his hands when a weight fell on his arm. 

No Fayra please. Don't do all these things with me. He requested in his heart and looked at his right arm, Fayra's head was resting on it and she was still sleeping peacefully. 

We had all the rights to share all these moments but what did you do? Slowly placing his hand on her head, he pushed it away which forced Fayra to wake up. With a jolt she scoot away while tucking her hair wisp behind the ear. Unable to make eye contact with him. 

“Umm… I…” she tried to explain but Danish already stood up. 

"Soo jao,” and he left the room. Fayra's heart was beating like a drum, she looked towards the door from which he left. 

(Sleep)

Sleep? How could she sleep empty stomach? Danish didn't ask her for dinner and she had no money, no mobile to buy herself something to eat. A packet of biscuit was resting on the medicine table, maybe Danish brought it for himself, she hesitated for a moment but grimaced and picked it up. 

"So what if it was for him?” Rolling her eyes she had it and went to sleep without knowing that he brought it not for himself but for her, however didn't find it in himself to tell her. 

….

In the morning Fayra turned her side, the hospital couch was highly uncomfortable for her. Moreover, sleeping in a hospital room wasn't a piece of cake at all, the medical staff was active outside the room, the footsteps, pulling of stretchers and continuous movements were enough to disturb the slumbers. 

She opened her eyes and took a quick look at the room but her slumber was gone after seeing Danish. 

Sitting on the chair he was sleeping while resting his head on Momina's bed. The wrinkled hand was placed on his head. Maybe the grandmother and grandson were having a conversation while Fayra was sleeping. Maybe the old lady was blessing his grandson for looking after her so carefully and delicately. 

Yesterday when Momina needed someone to make her sit on the bed and help her to walk to the washroom, Fayra realised the reality of what she had heard since childhood, aging is a quiet regression, a slow undoing that pulls a person back to the vulnerabilities of their earliest days. The body grows frail, limbs turn clumsy, and a life once defined by fierce independence bends, inevitably, into total reliance on another. 

Sitting on the couch she noticed the sheet covering her, it wasn't there last night. Yawning and gathering her messy hair together she walked towards the bed. 

“Da…” she wanted to wake him up but hesitation was killing her. A hand reached to his shoulder but didn't dare to touch it. "Danish.” She whispered. Making sure not to wake up Momina, but he had always been a heavy sleeper, the slightest whispers never reached him.

"Danish.” She touched his shoulder with first finger and surprisingly he woke up. 

"Hmm? What's wrong?” he winced and Fayra pointed out the wall clock which was showing ten to seven in the morning. He hissed while sitting straight. His back and neck muscles were hurting too much. 

Danish checked the time then looked at Momina who just opened her eyes then at Fayra.

"You Go home." Rubbing his eyes he ordered Fayra. She looked confused and he read her eyes within a second. 

"Freshen up, eat something. I'll stay." 

She immediately shook her head, "No. I'm not going anywhere."

He looked up "Why?" The same bossy tone which he stopped using for her. 

"You haven't slept properly either. You go home and take a rest. I'll stay." A silence settled between them, eyes didn't move away from each other. But before they could debate a little more a nurse entered into the room with a professional smile.

"Only one attendant is allowed during morning rounds." Both of them immediately looked at each other after hearing the nurse's instruction. 

"Main rukunga."

"Main rukungi."

(I'll stay)

"Danish maine keh diya na main rahungi, aap meri baat kyu nhi sunte?” Fayra announced stubbornly but it the words faltered halfway, it pinched Danish. (Danish, I told you I'm staying, why don't you listen to me?)

Just like always, Danish didn't yell. He just looked at her, his eyes heavy with a familiar, quiet exhaustion.

"Sari baate to manwa leti ho, chahe main chahu ya na chahu, tum meri konsi baat maanti ho?" he said softly, his voice devoid of anger, which made it hurt even more.

(You make me agree to everything, Whether I want to or not. But tell me... when do you ever listen to me?)

"I…” she wanted to say something in her defence but Danish sighed

“Go home, eat something, and come back in the afternoon, then I'll go home. No more discussion." The stillness in his voice hit her harder than any argument. Looking at his tired face, a sudden wave of memory rushed over her.

Her stubborn stance melted away. The pride in her chest collapsed, replaced by a sharp, pinching regret. Regret over a ruined bond.

“Kyu daant rhe ho us bachhi ko?" Momina asked in a hushed tone while the nurse was changing the drip. 

(Why are you scolding my girl?) 

"Rehne dijiye Dadi jaan, inhe sari galtiyan sirf meri hi dikhti hain. Jaa rhi hu main, aapke liye soup bana ke le aungi." She mumbled and jerked her head. Danish glared at her back but said nothing. Fayra left the room after huffing and puffing.

(Leave it Dadi Jaan, he only knows how to point out my mistakes. Well, I'll bring soup for you while returning.)

"Kya ho jata hai tumhe Danish? Kyu daant rhe ho use?” Momina was disappointed but Danish gave her a questioning look 

(Danish why are you scolding her? What's wrong?)

"Main daant rha hu? Dadi Jaan? Aapne dekha nhi mere sar par tandaw karti hai ye ladki. Wese bhi, ye meri dant se daregi?" Danish jerked his head, how hard he had been trying to ignore Fayra's presence but it was almost impossible for each other to stay in the same room without teasing or irritating each other. 

(Am I scolding her? Really? Dadi Jaan? She is the one who throws tantrums. Moreover, do you think she will be afraid of my anger?)

“Are you both husband and wife?" the nurse asked quietly after witnessing the argument between both of them. 

Danish was stunned, before he could say something his gaze travelled to the door. Fayra froze, she was returning for some cash but she heard everything.

“Give me some cash, I need to take a cab home, and neither do I have my purse." Without making eye contact with him, she demanded without hesitation. He was the only person whose wallet was her personal property, and now, even after these differences between them, she didn't know the art of being hesitant.

He silently pulled out the wallet from his pocket and he was about to pull out a few notes from it but stopped and passed the whole wallet after removing the cards from it. 

‘Tumhe to dil jaan sab kuch de sakta hu, ye chand kazag ke tukde kya cheez hain?’ 

(I can even give you my life, what's these some bits of paper?)