3

"Ayyah, mana," Nabeel called to his mom, his tone filled with concern. "How can you get better if you don't eat?" He carefully brought a spoonful of food to her mouth, hoping she would take it.

She scrunched her face, as if it were something bitter and poisonous, but she reluctantly accepted a small portion from the spoon.

He let out a sigh, feeling at a loss for how to ease her stubbornness when she was sick. It seemed that no one could handle her except him Shima din fama yake. "Please, Ayyah," he pleaded, his persistence unwavering as he pointed to the plate between them. "Just take three spoonfuls of this, and then I'll leave you be."

"Ha," he stated, opening his mouth wide as if she were a child who didn't understand the concept of opening one's mouth. But She still opened, he quickly threw the food into her mouth, afraid she might change her mind.

She barely chewed before swallowing as if it were medicine. She pointed to the glass of water on the bedside drawer, and he gave her a few sips.

"Now, just three more spoons," he said, hoping she wouldn't reject it. She glared at him, he smiled at her. Allah knows he loves this woman more than anything on this Earth, and he would do anything for her.

"Okay, Ayyah, saura two," he allowed, giving her another spoonful that she took without any protest. immediately following it with another spoonful and then another one, it earned him another glare from her. Which he smiled at.

"Last one, I promise. The first spoon wasn't full enough," he pleaded with his eyes, knowing she had a soft spot for him. He managed to sneak the fourth spoonful in.

Putting the plate away, he replaced it with a bowl of soup. She frowned at his action, climbing up her bed, he quickly got up and climbed onto the bed too, the bowl in his hands.

"Ayyah, just five spoonfuls of this, and I'll tell you about a girl I met today," he said softly, knowing that the mention of him meeting a girl would soften her. And he was right, because he saw something akin to a smile dance on her face. She willingly took the five spoonfuls and more, she would to do anything to hear him talk about marriage or, at the very least, liking a girl.

Putting the empty bowl away, he took her medicine from the bedside drawer. "Your medicine, then the story," he said jokingly. She frowned a little, half-knowing that he was tricking her.

Allah yasa, da gaske he actually met a girl. She smiled , she was willing to let him fool her into anything, he's all she has he's her everything.

"Ungo, Ayyah," his voice brought her back from her thoughts. She let him feed her the medicine, all the while keeping her eyes on him. She wondered what she did to deserve him.

"It scares me when you look at me like this, Ayyah," he told her, his voice shaking. "It makes me feel like you're leaving me too," he added, adjusting the pillow for her head to lay comfortably.

If she could, she would have told him that it wasn't what he was thinking. She was only expressing her gratitude to Allah for his blessings, even in her condition, she still saw his blessings and was thankful for them.

"Now you sleep," his voice cut through her thoughts.

She held his hand, a worried look on her face as if telling him to stay. He knew she wanted to hear about the girl. He sat on the edge of the bed, smiling, and said, "She's cute, not as beautiful as you, Ayyah, but cute." He made eye contact with her, and she smiled. "She's short, like you." he chuckled at her glare.

If she could, she would argue that she's not short, she's just portable. His Ayyah can take anything and make it sound special.

"Unlike you, Ayyah, she's loud," he smiled at a memory that flashed in his head. "And she's special, Ayyah. I don't know why, but she just is," he added, standing to his feet. He dragged her blanket up to her shoulders and walked out, switching off the lights.

~°~

She lay there, counting the ceiling in her room, which had become her prison as she feared going out of it, lest she be met with Iya's creepy smile.

A push at her door startled her, and she sat upright. It was Iya, carrying a tray of her breakfast. "I see you didn't come out for your breakfast," she stated, ignoring and loving the look on Salame's face.

"Nagode, Iya," Salame blurted out, holding back her tears. "Dama yanzunzan fito. Ai na tsaya shirin zuwa aiki ne." She decided it was best she goes to work, or Iya would drive every drop of sanity out of her.

Iya was only doing it to get her to open up. She knew that asking wouldn't work, as she had tried and failed many times. She longed to have a deep talk with her only daughter.

Salame hardly told her anything now; she just kept to herself and acted all okay. But a mother knows better. She knows Salame isn't getting angry at the littlest opportunity for nothing. If only she would let her in, and maybe... just maybe...

"I'm done," Salame interrupted her thoughts, standing in her work uniform and grinning.

It pained Iya that she would rather go to work than come to her. They stood there awkwardly, and Iya did everything to hide her misery. She hated that Salame was not a child anymore, that she couldn't force her to hear her problems. Salame felt as if Iya was ignoring her pain or adding to it. She felt unseen.

"Okay! Have fun at work, but eat first before you leave," Iya sighed. "You know you have an ulcer," she warned.

"Tohm," was all Salame could manage.

"And come back straight home," Iya added.

She dignified with a nod.