Accepted With Flaws

-Battling inner Fear-

Allah! There is no god but He - the Living, the Self-subsisting, Eternal. No slumber can seize Him nor Sleep. His are all things in the heavens and on earth. Who is there can intercede in His presence except as He permitteth? He knoweth what (appeareth to His creatures As) Before or After or Behind them. Nor shall they compass aught of His knowledge except as He willeth. His throne doth extend over the heavens and on earth, and He feeleth no fatigue in guarding and preserving them, For He is the Most High, the Supreme (in glory).

(Ayat al Kursi -2:255)

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Omaiza's pov

After returning to our room, we both changed into our bedtime clothes. I wore a plain long-sleeved nightgown, while he put on a red sweatshirt and black pajamas. It felt strange yet oddly comforting, and I decided to share my thoughts.

"Hey, Lut?" I hesitated.

He looked over, his voice friendly. "Yeah, Omaiza? Need something?"

I bit my lip before asking, "Would it be okay if I took the couch?"

His eyebrows twitched, and he seemed a bit unhappy. "Sure, if you want."

My face must have shown my disappointment.

"No, I mean you can have the bed. I'll take the couch," he explained, absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck—a habit I recognized.

"Are you sure? I don't mind," I reassured.

"Absolutely, Omaiza. No problem," he said.

Even though he said that, I still felt bad about him sleeping on the couch. But what else could I do?

Gradually, my thoughts drifted me into slumber.

I was startled awake by hot breath near my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I sat up quickly, hardly believing my eyes.

He was there! He smelled the same, had the same smirk, and that scar above his eyebrow took me back to that awful incident.

"How did you get here?" I blurted, moving back on the bed.

"I had to, baby," he said, stepping closer until he was almost touching me. "There was something I left unfinished last time. And this time, I won't leave you hanging. Trust me," he added, winking.

I pushed him away and tried to run, but I couldn't escape.

"Let go of me, you monster!" I struggled against his grip.

"Why rush, baby?" he mocked, pinning my arms against the headboard.

I yelled, screamed, pleaded, and begged.

"No!"

"Ya Allah, help me!"

"Abbu, please help me!"

"Lut, where are you?" I said his name, and my heart ached. For some reason, I needed him more than anyone in that moment.

"Lut, you promised to protect me! Help me!"

I closed my eyes tightly, not wanting to see the monster's face. He dug his nails into my arms just like before, and I screamed in pain.

"Please stop!"

"Aaahhhhh, ya Allah!!!!!!"

"Shhh, shhh, shhh, zawj. I'm here, don't worry," a voice I longed for reached my ears.

I cried even harder.

"It's okay, zawj. Everything will be fine, trust me. It's just a nightmare. You can hold onto me," he said, hugging me and running his hand gently through my hair.

I clung to him, holding his arms tight so he wouldn't leave.

"Look at me, zawj," he let go of the hug and held my arms, making me meet his eyes. "Hey," he wiped away my tears with his thumb and lifted my chin. "Zawj, don't be scared. I'm here to protect you."

I couldn't muster the courage to lift my gaze, the monstrous image still haunting my mind. Lut's soothing touch on my back helped ground me, guiding my focus back to steady breathing.

In the midst of the relentless memories, panic began to tighten its grip around me, constricting my chest and stealing the air from my lungs. I felt my heart racing, my thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of fear. Every breath became a struggle, and I fought to regain control over my trembling body.

Lut's touch shifted from caressing to a gentle, rhythmic patting on my back. His voice, soft and reassuring, penetrated the chaos. "It's okay, zawj. You're safe here. Breathe with me." His words acted as a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge of the abyss.

As I concentrated on matching his steady inhalations and exhalations, the panic began to recede. Slowly, the tightness in my chest eased, and my breathing gradually returned to a more manageable rhythm. The warmth of his hand on my back served as an anchor, grounding me in the present moment.

Minutes that felt like an eternity passed, and the panic subsided, leaving behind exhaustion and vulnerability. I finally dared to lift my gaze, meeting Lut's eyes that held a mixture of concern and unwavering support.

"Zawj, you did great," he whispered, his thumb brushing away a lingering tear from my cheek. "Remember, I'm here with you, always."

His words, like a soothing balm, offered solace to the raw edges of my emotions. I managed a weak smile, a silent acknowledgment of his presence, his strength, and his unwavering dedication.

Luth helped me recite Ayat al-Kursi, the last two verses of Surah al-Baqarah, and the three Qul-surahs.

Eventually, I fell asleep, still holding his hand.

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When I woke up the next morning, I was surprised to find Luth still holding my hand. I felt guilty for putting him through that ordeal. Carefully, I removed my hand and got up, leaving him to sleep comfortably. I decided to take a shower, mindful that I had half an hour before Fajr prayer.

As I combed my hair, memories of the previous night flooded back. "Ya Allah, please erase those memories," I silently prayed.

-Alarm rings-

"Assalamu alaikum, zawj," Luth greeted with a yawn and a stretch.

"Wa alaikum salam wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuhu, Lut," I responded, smiling genuinely and returning his greeting.

We prayed together, and it felt wonderful to stand behind him during the prayer. His voice was soothing and beautiful.

Afterward, we considered going for a walk. Despite my reservations, I found it hard to say no.

We changed into casual clothes and left the room. The resort had lovely lawns and a bird sanctuary.

"So, how are you feeling?" Luth began as we walked.

"I'm feeling good, Alhamdulillah," I answered.

"What do you enjoy doing, Omaiza?"

"I like writing and painting," I confessed. "I trust my pen and brush more than my words."

"Your words make me think you're a talented writer," he commented.

I blushed. "Not really."

We chatted some more and then headed back for breakfast.

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"Abbu," I whispered, my heart heavy with emotions.

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*oops! To be continued *

*giggling*