No Returns, Plenty Regrets

"It's OK, Ahlam, just breathe for me, in and out." My eyes sputtered tears as I struggled to do the one thing that should come naturally to me. Everything was amplified. The rise and fall of my chest, the lights overhead, the burning in my head, Yusuf's hand on my back.

"I can't!" I exclaimed, angry with myself, with the world, with my problems, with my brain, and my stupid, stupid tears.

"Yes, you can." This time he grabbed my hands, giving them a tight squeeze reassuringly. "You know that you can. You have to breath Ahlam. For us, for the people that love you. This panic attack, this unguarded fear? It can't do anything to you. So just breathe. Please, for me."

I woke up with sweat drenching my entire body, my breathing audible and apparent as I clamped my hand over my mouth to quiet the sobs that were threatening to expose me in the dead of night.

It was a memory, in a dream. A beautiful remembrance of how much I'd lost. But most importantly, it was salt in the wounds torn into my flesh by the one person who used to heal me.

I laid back down on my bed, throwing off the covers, and letting the hot summer air be swept away by the overhead fan. Soon enough, my thoughts left me, and with silence coating my mind, I lulled myself into sleep.

///

"How many times have I told your dumb self to leave that light on Ahlam!" My mother yelled as she furiously paced the house, anxiously waiting for Daneen to come out of her room.

I was going to reply, but bit back my snarky comment as Daneen stepped out in all her glory. She seemed to be radiating happiness and I couldn't help but bask in some of it. We cheered and clapped as she twirled, the light overhead her hitting her outfit in all the right places. She looked absolutely regal standing above us in the hallway.

And I wish I could share some of the confidence she seemed to radiate.

My own outfit was just a black satin long sleeved choli along side a cream colored lengha. I smiled, thinking, this was it. The months long turmoil of wedding arrangements and shopping and it all came to an end tonight. I smiled, blinking back tears as she embraced me and our mother.

Once we got to the venue, my first goal was to yell at the photographer and make sure he didn't film people eating because we all know that's a thing, and not a good one at that. Then I ushered Daneen into one of the rooms in the back as we awaited Safaa's family to arrive.

"I'm scared." Daneen fretted as she looked into the mirror in front of us.

"Me too." I whispered as I stared at her reflection and grasped her hands. Not much time had passed since the days where we'd be carefree, and now we were both reaching milestones in our lives.

The instruments began to play outside signalling the arrival of Azaan and his family. 20 minutes later, Daneen and Azaan were legally married, sealing their fate with their nikkah, and I realized that among the familiar faces, was one which I had grown a stranger to.

I stared at his face. He looked uncomfortable but nonetheless, met my eyes. And then he looked away, almost ashamed as if, when my friends crowded around me and the new couple. When I looked again, he was gone, taking with me, a glimmer of hope that amends could be made. I reprimanded myself for even taking that thought into my head and bitterly laughed at myself.

I was a fool.

///

I packed the last of my clothes into my suitcase and took it downstairs to join the rest of my things. College started in 2 weeks and that was just enough time for me to settle in. Instead of staying in the dorms, I was staying with a Somali girl named Astur. We had met earlier in the year when I had gone to tour the school and had befriended each other instantly.

We had also decided that living together in a small apartment near campus would be more beneficial because that way we couldn't get stuck in uncomfortable living conditions with other people. And since we were both Muslim, it worked out even more. No one could question are praying and etcetera. It's a small world.

We had made a bunch of plans on how we would decorate but we both ended up binge watching Netflix until school started and the apartment slowly became a mess.

Yusuf, Astur, and I formed a small group, and on breaks went to visit Mihirmah and Safaa. Astur filled in Yusuf's spot, but she could never replace him or the scars he had left.

We tried to refrain from talking about him, but sooner or later Astur figured out who he was and begrudgingly we told her our story.

Time passed and filled old wounds. But if you pressed hard enough, pain would still be felt.

///

A/N

Time skip on its way to y'all.

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"Healing doesn't mean the damage never existed. It means the damage no longer controls our lives."- Unknown