A tale of love, loss, and new beginnings.
Hareem wants to start over, Momin is stuck in the past. Can a newly wedded couple learn to love and accept one another while also dealing with an uncertain future and a haunting past?
Trigger warning: ptsd...
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Chapter Twenty One
Momin had a way with words, Hareem realized. Like a great teacher, he could explain the most complex concepts in easy words. However his solution to dealing with the past was flawed.
Unlike him, she couldn't dive into her memories and try to dispel the root of her trauma by compartmentalizing it into the good and bad. It wasn't that simple. She couldn't recall the incident and those following it without experiencing the intense pain of reliving them. So how could she possibly view them objectively and start her journey to recovery?
She wanted to heal, she really did. But the traditional routes of going for therapy and talking about it were impossible for her. Her parents had forbidden her from discussing her past in the fear that she would be judged, that she would be called derogatory terms for her condition, and would eventually lose her friends. The only way she could deal with her emotions was to bury them inside of her, hoping that they would disappear into the abyss of her soul.
It had taken everything inside of her to start her life anew at the new university in the new city her family had moved to. She couldn't throw it all away by going down the exact route she had run away from.
"Sometimes the past is so painful it's best to forget it," Hareem explained.
"How? By distracting yourself? By denying the fact that you haven't properly grieved?" Momin picked up a package of several traditionally decorated matchboxes. He turned it in his big hands, observing the truck art printed on it. "Even our prophets grieved their losses. Prophet Yaqub (AS) grieved the loss of Prophet Yusuf (AS), Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) grieved the loss of his son Ibraheem. Grieving our loss for a certain amount of time doesn't mean we are unsatisfied with the decree of Allah, it only means that we are letting out the pain in our heart, so we can be better tomorrow."
She met his eyes, looking at the sincerity in them. She wasn't sure what or even why Momin was arguing so vehemently about loss. He didn't have the slightest idea of what she had experienced.
"You won't understand," she finally said, picking up a puzzle box.
"Maybe I don't," he confessed, drawing her attention from the puzzle box she was examining. "And I won't ever be able to unless you trust me enough to tell me."
She looked at him in surprise.
She hadn't caught on that his passionate speech had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with her. He was referring to her struggles with maintaining her mental health, and her reluctance to share it with him.
With his eyes staring into hers, he continued, "I will wait my entire life if I have to, to hear what has caused you so much pain. But I can't have you doubt me. Please trust me, and let me in. Your parents, my parents, your friends, and even Ahmed, we all love you and care about you. We all want you to be happy, we want you to deal with whatever is hurting you."
