Chaos in the Canvas √

36 | talk

اک عمر بعد ملے ہیں ہم
تیرے نام کی اج شام ہے

Monday - 8:18pm

The rain poured heavily outside, the stars a distant memory now. Cold gripped the city with even more ferocity, the chill and harsh winds a stimulus for taking refuge inside the comforts of home. The inside of the apartment, however, was warm with the crackling fire in a battle against the cold.

Nearby, Hemayal occupied a sofa by the television, directly facing the fireplace, with Ibrahim standing by the window, a cup of coffee in his hand as he gazed mindlessly outside. He had showered, the reek of police station, heartbreak and regrets washed away, and now he stood in his sweatpants and a sweater, slowly coming back to the attire Hemayal was used to seeing him in.

"I think..." Hemayal coughed uneasily. "I think I should go, your father and brother would be here any minute." Hemayal began to get up, the silence between them for the past few minutes too harsh on her soul.

"So?" Ibrahim mumbled, still facing the window with his back to Hemayal.

He had not looked at her once since forgiving her.

"So I'm sure you guys will have important stuff to deal with. I'll just be a hindrance, it's better if I go." Hemayal said, collecting her things from the coffee table.

And she didn't want to face Mustafa so soon, but she didn't dare utter that thought.

"Tonight," Ibrahim turned towards her finally, his eyes distant and lost. "I have no intention of dealing with any of the mess. Maybe tomorrow, but not tonight."

"What do you plan on doing tonight then?" Hemayal asked, looking at him with sad eyes and a frown displacing her lips.

"Tonight, I want to fix us." Ibrahim said, his voice losing the mumble and coming to be a bit clear now. "Because God knows if we don't do it tonight, we never will."

A silence fell on Hemayal as she saw him, heard him. He wanted to fix things, no matter how bad and ugly, that rested between them; he wanted to give their relationship another chance; he wanted to talk.

And in that moment, Hemayal realized something - all and everything that transpired between them, all the ugly spats and horrible encounters - none of it would have happened had they talked. Just sat somewhere and listened to each other - not with the intention of manipulation or corruption, only to try and make things better for the future - like he was doing right now.

"For that, we have to talk." This time, Hemayal mumbled while nodding and Ibrahim sighed.

"For that, we have to talk," Ibrahim repeated before approaching her, coming to stand directly in front of her so that Hemayal had to tilt her head upwards to catch a glance. "It's difficult, I know. It's going to be painful. But you know the one thing that went wrong in our relationship?"

"We never talked." Hemayal followed his movement as he slowly pulled the purse off her shoulder, taking the mobile and car keys from her hand.

"Yes, not once, not really. Tonight, we talk," Ibrahim gently pushed her down on the couch and occupied a seat few inches apart himself, determination in his eyes. "Can I say something to you?"

"Sure." She wasn't sure, not an ounce.

"The idea of forgiving you terrifies me," Ibrahim said and Hemayal closed her eyes and sighed heavily, heart in deep pain. "You did it once, what's going to stop you from doing it again if something happens in the future?"