The Reason Why I lived

A Story by Monisah Akram

This is my first short story. Something that came up when I was suffering from severe doubt.

Everything was grey, the clouds the river the atmosphere. There was nothing but gloom but it probably just me. I stood at the edge of the river watching my husband spending time with his new family. A Smile so bright formed on his face as he watched his children run rings around their mother. The same smile that was once for me now belongs to his new wife, the mother of his children. I couldn't have children. Years of trying had taken its toll on me and I had given up.

I felt my self-esteem wither away into nothingness.

I was never a good daughter, never a good sister and certainly not a good wife. I would assume that I wouldn’t be a good mother which is probably why god didn’t seem fit to give me a child. Despite my best effort I cannot compete anymore for his l couldn’t compete for his love and affections anymore. I had given up. The love in his eyes shone brightly for her. The look that was once mine was now held completely for her. I couldn’t stand it and ran towards the house.

It hurt.

Why does it hurt so much?

All I wanted in my life was to be accepted to be loved. Like all households we had our share of difficulties. I was the oldest yet more babied than my two younger sisters. I never had the confidence or the will to do something for myself. I never had a dream to work towards to, or career that I was proud of. The potential I contained was destroyed by my lack of confidence and employers soon forgot me. But the one person I love more than life itself, the one I lived for had effectively shunned me aside and given my place to someone else.

It was sunset. The sun lowering into the earth, its golden rays of light now seeped into the ground transforming the sky from red orange yellow into deep dark blue . I beseeches on the prayer mat just before the pitch black sky arrive, crying vigorously demanding answers and praying for immense strength in this battle. Prayer was my constant companion. The only force to stop me from spiraling out of control.

The clock struck 8 I closed the Quraan in my hand clutched it briefly against my heart.

I sat on my dressing table and apply first brush stroke of the facade, hiding the blotches the pain underneath the false mask of the foundation, concealer and blusher. The swollen lips were hidden behind the deep red paint, same colour as my bleeding heart. The red rimmed brown eyes were hidden behind false lashes eyeliner and eye shadows. The facade was complete. Everything the pain, the hurt the crying was hiding behind this person in the mirror. My Long hair was brushed thoroughly and i pinned back leaving my face exposed. The red dress that draped my figure flowed behind me. The Leather bound dairy that I written my deepest darkest thoughts were wide open waiting for me to seal it up again.

My therapist says creativity helps to heal the soul. “Pour it out” Heather expressed pushing her arms out waving like a lunatic. Her loose dress swirled as she sprang around the room. She was so childlike, from her movement to the expression on her face. I couldn’t help but smile in her presence. If she had her way she said she would’ve become an artist a painter like Picasso.

She was a loony in her own eccentric way. “Pour it out on a page, a painting or writing. Just get it out so it’s not sticking like thorns in your heart.” Her bright golden hair streaked with colour flapped around. . Fill your life with colour instead if the blackness with in. Shine like the stars. Push the black clouds away.

I unlocked bedroom door and stepped outside. He stood at the door way, shrugging out of his long coat. The broad thick shoulders flexed, I swallowed the lump in my throat. He turned around and smiled. But that smile longed to see again didn’t reach the eyes. Instead they were wary and strained. He checked his watch and I saw the anxiousness rise.

“Everything ok” I asked him. “You seem tensed. I hope they are not overworking you at the office.” It hurt to keep the façade. He was surprised as I was. We both knew it was his day off and we both knew where he was during the day. How did our marriage become a series of lies? And yet I chose to live another lie instead of facing the truth. I’m such a coward. I still loved him too much to accept defeat.

Three long days pass since I saw him. He spent majority of the time on the laptop or the phone constantly to Haseena. I gave him his dinner and went to the bedroom. The headache was worse today. The constant cold shivers were worse today. Since that day the fever wouldn’t let go of it death grip. I didn’t even hear the front door open until it was too late. My worse fears realised. He left me. I yanked the door open and tried to scramble to the door only for the fever to catch up, snuffing me around the throat and plummet me into the darkness.

The constant beeping pulled me out of the deep slumber. Pain instantly hit me before my eyes adjusted. Something was bound around my head tight. I was in the hospital; I could smell chlorine and illness. There was inane chatter surrounding the ward. A chirpy nurse showed up such enthusiasm and cheerfulness that somehow put me into more of a depressive mood than I woke up in. Not once since I woke the hubby had showed up. He came briefly to meet with the doctor and left without even checking on me. Something inside of me broke, like a glass I became a shell. I eat I sleep I pray but I stopped living. And he never came back.

Years passed by. 10 years in fact. I was finally a mother. The hospital found out I was pregnant. My lively beautiful daughter was currently running rings around me and the unconditional love I was searching in my husband eyes radiated in hers for me. I never received the love back but this little girl was the reason why I lived.