"Take her home and don't bring her for the Janazah tomorrow even if she insists, okay?" Haider instructed Salman.
"Haider," she sniffed. "I'm going to attend umma's Janazah no matter what you say." Tears were still streaming down her eyes.
"Layla, you're not in the best condition," he walked to her and placed his palms on her face. "You need to stay back and rest, it's a lot to take in for you." His hand moved to her head and he patted it lightly.
She stood still sniffing and crying silently.
It still felt like a nightmare.
A very vivid one.
"You just rest," He embraced her in his wide arms. "You should both get going already, it's late." He turned to look at Salman.
Haider had dropped Basma at home before returning to the hospital.
Azeeza passed away a few minutes to Isha.
It was super late, so her Janazah had to be postponed till the next day.
Salman helped his wife to the car.
She didn't utter a word on their way to the car.
Only silent sniffs could be heard instead.
Once they got into the car, Umaymah put on her seatbelt and pulled her knees to her chest.
She buried her face in her knees and allowed hot tears to stream down her cheeks shamelessly.
She didn't care that Salman was there watching her shed buckets of tears.
She just let it all out with no care in the world.
Salman had never witnessed her cry so much in his entire life as she did at that moment in the car.
A male's soft voice was playing on the car radio.
He reached out and turned it off.
Her sobs could be heard even clearer now.
They were nothing close to silent this time.
Salman looked at her occasionally.
He didn't know what to say or do.
"Are you okay?" was not the kind of question to ask at that point.
Neither was saying "It's going to be okay." going to stop her from crying even more.
He silently watched as she cried.
The sound often takes a high pitch before reducing and then continuing in that repeated sequence.
It was really hard to see her breakdown.
He slowly moved his hand unsure of what his current action would earn him before settling it on her upper arm.
He rubbed her arm carefully as though it was a remedy that would take the pain away.
He said nothing and just rubbed her arm carefully.
She didn't flinch at his touch.
Nor did she complain or roll her eyes.
Who knew if she even felt his hand on her?
Once they got home, Salman turned off the roaring engine.
She was still in her position but her sobs had returned to small and silent sniffs.
He took in her figure.
"We're home." He was facing her now.
It took a couple of minutes before she raised her head.
Her eyes were more sore and red than before.
Tiny streams of liquid trickled down from her nostrils.
New tears overlapped the dried-up ones on her cheeks.
Her fair skin held a big highlight of crimson.
Salman got out of his side of the car and walked to her door.
He opened it and held out his hand for her to take.
Her bloodshot eyes shifted from his face to his hand and back while letting out loud sniffs this time around.
"Come on." A very faint smile surfaced on his face.
Umaymah slowly crept out of the car and place her palm in Salman's hand.
"Let's get you all cleaned up." He held her to himself and placed a soft kiss on her head.
After performing Solatul Isha', Salman called his mother to inform her about what had happened.
Umaymah insisted on praying in her room, so he didn't force it.
Once he was done speaking with Zeinab, he approached Umaymah's room and placed a light knock on it.
"I'm fine Salman, don't worry, get some sleep." Her voice was soft but you could hear the bitterness behind her words.
No, she wasn't fine.
Why did she say she was fine when all she just wanted to do was cry her eyes, heart, whatever organ was in her, she wanted to cry them all out!
She just wanted to cry.
Silence followed.
"Goodnight then," his forehead was resting against the door.
He didn't want to force anything she didn't want.
"Also don't forget your adhkar okay?" His tone was lower than earlier.
No response came afterward.
He heaved a sigh and headed back to his room.
After concluding the early morning hours prayer alongside Umaymah, Salman recited a page from the Qur'an.
He was already dressed and ready to set off.
He and Haider had agreed on the time to meet for the preparation of the Janazah.
He closed the Qur'an and returned it to the little floating shelf in the corner of the living room.
Umaymah had fallen asleep on her prayer mat behind him.
Salman walked to where she lay and soothed her head.
She was still wearing her emerald green khimar which she used to pray.
A tiny drop of tear plopped down on her gray mat from the corner of her eye.
Salman sighed before picking her up in his arms and taking her up to her room.
He removed her khimar and folded it neatly on the foot of her bed then pulled the duvet to cover her.
He placed a kiss on her forehead and hair.
Salman admired her face.
Her long silky lashes cast a shadow upon her light skin.
He carefully opened the covers after minutes of contemplation and then laid down by her side.
He wrapped his strong arms around her and continued admiring her features.
From the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathed to her soft and steady breathing that left warm breath on Salman's face.
She was indeed beautiful.
Her eyelids slowly lifted open bringing her brown eyes into view.
She looked at Salman who was still staring directly at her.
She didn't pull back.
"Aren't you supposed to meet up with Haider?" It came out more like a whisper.
It felt like she was using the last energy left in her to utter those words.
A thin smile appeared on Salman's face.
"I changed my mind and decided to stay." His reply came.
She sighed before sitting up from his hold.
Her hands found their way to her eyes to clear out the sleep.
She drew her knees to her chest.
It had now become her new comfortable position.
She wasn't conscious about the nightdress she was putting on this time despite the thin straps it had as sleeves.
"Both of us can't stay here Salman, one of us has to be there to wish Umma a farewell." she looked down at her bare feet.
Salman wanted to stay back to comfort her but she insisted that he attended Azeeza's funeral.
"Salman?" she called as he was about to leave the room. "Can you please tell Umma I'm very sorry for not looking after her and I'm sorry for being selfish?" Tears clouded her eyes slowly. "Please?" She said softly.
Close families and a couple of friends were already present at the graveyard.
Azeeza's body had already been washed, shrouded in a piece of pure white material, and prayed upon.
Basma held tight to Haider.
It felt like she had lost half of her life.
She couldn't even get a glimpse of sleep the night before.
Haider tried his best to be strong for her.
Her crying didn't subside.
Zeinab wiped her wet eyes with a handkerchief.
The event that was taking place before her eyes didn't feel real.
It felt as though it was some sort of mirage.
Sobs could be heard from the small crowd that formed around Azeeza's grave.
Prayers and du'as were muttered by different individuals.
Each one asking Allah to forgive Azeeza's sins, others asking for Allah to expand her grave, supply it with abundant Noor and elevate her status to the highest rank of Jannah.
Soon the crowd cleared leaving only Haider and Basma alongside Zeinab and Salman.
Haider and Salam had a brief talk and concluded it with a brotherly handshake.
Zeinab sent her kind and warm condolence in the best way she could to both Basma and Haider.
"Take good care of Umaymah, okay?" She told her son as they walked to his car.
He nodded.
He was going to do so without even being told.
It was one of his responsibilities.
"FiamaniLlah." Zeinab hugged her son goodbye.
When Salman got home, it read 2 pm on the antique wall clock.
He slid off his shoes and walked up the marble stairs.
"I'm back." He knocked on her door.
It had become a habit.
An unconscious habit, to knock on her mahogany room door.
"How did it go?" Her voice came from behind the closed door. "You can come in."
He sleds the door open a bit and looked inside before entering.
"Alhamdulillah, it went fine."
Silence.
Salman stood by the bed and observed the little mess in the room.
Her clothes from the previous day were still swung over her study chair.
Her white sneakers sat by the gray-colored desk at the far end of the room.
The bed she was sitting on was scattered.
She was hugging her throw pillow that had a cashmere pillowcase over it.
Crumpled pieces of tissue and a tissue box sat by her side on the bed.
"Have you eaten?" He broke the silence with the question.
"I'm not hungry." She didn't face Salman.
The nightdress which he had left her in earlier when he left in the morning indicated that she hadn't had her bath either.
He placed his shoe by the bedside and began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.
"You need to take in something even if it's simply juice," he sat on the bed. "I'm going to fetch you a glass of juice right away." He told her.
Umaymah didn't respond.
She was busy staring at nothing in particular.
"Apple juice," Salman added before leaving for the kitchen.
New tears formed in her eyes.
Another round of crying was about to begin.
Her room door creaked open revealing Salman with a glass of juice in his hand.
This time she tried hiding her tears from Salman, unlike the time in the car.
She didn't want attention.
She could handle her situation by herself or so she thought.
Umaymah slipped back under the duvet trying to avoid any form of eye contact with her husband.
Salman moved further into the room before sitting on the bed.
"Here."
She didn't move.
She tried her possible best to cry and sob quietly but Salman was the observant type.
He placed the glass on the nightstand and walked to where she was facing.
Tears that rolled down her eyes plopped on her pillow.
It had formed a small mark of tears on the pillowcase.
"It'll be alright, In Sha Allah." He cleared her tears with his thumb.