The sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the room as Rehema sat quietly at the kitchen table, a cup of tea steaming gently in front of her. She hadn't yet heard Ali come in, but she sensed his presence before he spoke. The air around them seemed thick with unspoken words, as if the weight of everything that had happened between them was now lingering in the spaces they shared.
Rehema had learned to fill those spaces with something else: herself. Her thoughts, her dreams, her ambitions. She was no longer the woman who waited in silence for her husband's approval. She had started to dream of a future that was just hers. But the question now was whether Ali could see that future too, whether he could fit into it, or if he would forever be stuck in the past.
As she lifted her cup to her lips, Ali finally broke the silence.
"Rehema," his voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through the quiet like a knife.
She set the cup down slowly, her gaze turning toward him. He stood by the door, his figure silhouetted against the fading light of the day. His face was drawn, eyes tired, but there was something else in them now. A vulnerability she hadn't seen in him before.
"What is it, Ali?" she asked, her voice calm, almost indifferent.
He swallowed hard, stepping closer to her. "I don't know where to begin. I don't know how to fix this, fix us."
Rehema studied him, her heart tightening in her chest. She had once felt that same desperation—the urge to make things right, to restore the harmony that had long been broken. But now, she understood something different. Fixing wasn't the answer.
"You don't need to fix anything, Ali," she said quietly, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside her. "What we need isn't fixing. What we need is understanding, and right now, we're not there."
Ali exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose this… us. But it feels like I'm losing you bit by bit. And I don't know how to stop it."
Rehema felt a pang of sorrow, but it was distant. Like it was a memory of something she had once felt deeply, but now had the strength to let go. She had to let go. She couldn't keep holding on to the man who only saw her as a shadow of who she used to be.
"I'm not going anywhere, Ali," she said softly, meeting his gaze. "But I can't keep holding on to something that doesn't exist anymore. I need to find myself. I need to learn to live without needing your approval, without needing your constant validation."
His eyes darkened, and for a moment, Rehema saw a flicker of something—hurt, maybe guilt, or regret. But he didn't speak.
"I've been waiting for you to see me, Ali," Rehema continued, her voice cracking slightly. "But you've been too busy looking at everything but me. And now, I'm learning to see myself. And that's not something you can fix. I can't keep waiting for you to decide that I'm enough."
The words hung in the air, heavy, painful. For a long while, neither of them spoke.
Finally, Ali's voice broke through the silence. "I'm sorry, Rehema. I know I've hurt you, and I've failed you in so many ways. But I need you to know that I love you. I do. And I want to be the man you need me to be. I just don't know how."
Rehema's heart clenched, but she didn't look away. This wasn't the first time he'd apologized. It probably wouldn't be the last. But as much as she wanted to believe him, she knew it wasn't enough anymore.
"I know you love me," she whispered, tears threatening to spill. "But love isn't enough to fix everything. We've both lost ourselves, Ali. We've lost who we are in this mess we've made. And I need to find myself again. I need to be whole, even if that means doing it without you."
There it was. The truth. It hurt more than she had expected. The thought of walking away, of choosing herself over her marriage, had seemed impossible just a few months ago. But now, it felt necessary.
Ali didn't say anything. He just stood there, staring at her, his face a mix of regret and something else she couldn't quite decipher. The silence between them stretched again, but this time, it wasn't suffocating. It was a space for both of them to think, to breathe, to reconsider what they wanted.
Rehema didn't know what would come next. She didn't know if Ali would change, if he would ever be the man she needed him to be. But she knew one thing for sure: she was no longer waiting for him. She was no longer waiting for anyone.
---
The following day, Rehema went to the market, her son in tow, the weight of the world seeming a little lighter on her shoulders. For the first time in a long while, she walked with a sense of purpose. She wasn't just moving from day to day, surviving—she was living. She was actively shaping her future, taking steps to build her independence.
As she walked past the stalls, the bustling sounds of the market around her, she caught sight of a small shop selling baked goods. An idea sparked in her mind. She'd always loved baking. It had been one of the few things that had made her happy when everything else felt out of control. Maybe it was time to turn that passion into something more. Maybe it was time to start her own business.
The thought excited her. She could do this. She could build a life for herself, independent of anyone else's expectations. And maybe, just maybe, in the process, she would find the peace she had been searching for.
---
"You can't wait for someone else to fix what's broken in your life. Sometimes, you have to be the one to put the pieces back together. And in doing so, you might just discover the strength you never knew you had."