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Lazy rays of sunshine pierce the darkness of the room, flickering softly every so often as they, full of hope, try to bath it in a golden glow.
Despite their failed attempt, their presence is the first thing Suresh notices that morning when blinking his eyes open, irritation running through him for a moment as he gets used to his surroundings.
The sunlight isn’t as warming and all-consuming as it had been in the last few days, the melodic chirping of birds nearby replaced by gentle snoring sounds, and the breeze that used to catch in his hair and blanket, making him shiver slightly, has ceased to exist, leaving just coziness behind. Warmth. A peacefulness that flows through the room and glimmers in the light like magic sparkles.
It's beautiful and entrancing, capturing him fully when he becomes aware of the slight dip in the mattress and the additional warmth emanating from the body next to him, suggesting an intimacy that had been lost for months.
Head turning to the right, hurriedly yet hesitantly, like he needs to confirm that they indeed slept in the same bed last night but afraid it was just a dream, Suresh’s breath falters for a moment. The wave of euphoria that had started to build up crests right then, high and liberating, when he sees the familiar image.
Tentatively, Suresh reaches out. His hand slides over the soft sheets, whirling up a warm and spicy vanilla scent while he looks at Zehra, her eyes still closed and barely visible underneath her dark hair that covers most of her face and is chaotically splayed out all over the white pillow.
He’s spellbound, a small smile blossoming on his lips that is born out of old feelings bubbling up without hindrance, without a filter. And while the longing tucks at his heart a little stronger with every inch he gets closer, doubt and guilt wake up and make themselves felt, yawning and stretching so that the previously bright veil gets lifted from his eyes, leaving behind a gloomy reality.
The crashing wave is so strong that it nearly tears him under, making him retract his hand rather sharply before he averts his eyes, takes a deep breath and carefully sits up. Little droplets, fragments of his thoughts and feelings, are still spinning around in a whirlwind in the peaceful atmosphere, arranging themselves in a mosaic of happiness and sadness, hope and doubt, dream and reality.
It’s only now that Suresh realizes just how painful seeing her again is. Has been since he came here.
The familiarity yet foreignness between them stuns him – every interaction, every look unknown territory. It so closely resembles the one he still thinks about with almost every step he takes, the one he knows by heart. And yet, it’s different.
Even now, just looking at her sleeping form, Suresh is confronted with the old and the new, the familiar and the unknown.
Nothing about it surprises him, everything like it always used to be. One of her hands is tucked underneath the pillow, a few strands of hair are fluttering in time with her breathing and one knee is bent more than the other. And yet, the delicate black ink on her thigh, traveling north and disappearing underneath her turquoise pajama shorts, and her scent, slightly less adventurous and experimental than he was accustomed to from her, are silent reminders of a time spent apart. Observable confirmations of a now existing invisible barrier between them. A gorge. Deep and with a rough surface, the other side visible yet… unreachable.
And some part of him had foolishly hoped that one night of sharing the bed, of whispering conspiratorially and her falling asleep in his arms would somehow erase memories of nearly four hundred ones spend without each other’s company.
Did last night even reveal a glimpse of progress for a future together? Or was it simply reminiscing about days long gone?
Suresh doesn’t know, more confused now than he has been in years, but as a loud snore tears through the silence of the bedroom, followed by a giggle and a laugh from Kat and Finn’s bed, the gorge somehow seems to widen even more, the earth splitting underneath him.
And then he hears it, the tired groan that pulls him back and narrows his world once more to just her. The feeling is as immediate, as automatic, as the smile that start to appear on his lips.
Somehow, despite the many things he had missed about Zehra and the countless moments of their relationship that he had relived over and over and over again when closing his eyes, he hadn’t realized just how much he had missed seeing her waking up. How her face contorts at just the implication that it’s time to do so. How a small smile always seems to form on her lips when she realizes that it’s sunny outside, tilting her head in the direction of the sunbeam like a delicate sunflower. Or how much her tired and grumpy whimpers remind him of the sounds a moose makes.
Her reaction to him whispering morning, beautiful when she lazily opens her eyes, focused on him, includes all of this, the behavior eliciting a chuckle from him and another wave of longing that rapidly spreads through his body.
God, he had missed this. All of it. The disgruntled sounds, the messy hair, the softness and peacefulness of the moment and the way she’d reach out to him to prolong it, to search for warmth – just like she’s doing right now, her hand weakly sliding over the sheets, like she barely has any strength but chooses to use it for this.
Suresh’s body moves on its own now too, perfectly in sync with hers, ready to pull her into his embrace, her movement a secret signal in the relative darkness of the bedroom. Desire builds up steadily as they get closer, stretch just a little further, sink a little more into the sheets, a moment or two longer and then –
Zehra’s eyes suddenly widen, visible wonderfully even beneath the hair still covering her face, the look one full of pain before it turns into contemplation. Tracing her features with his eyes, Suresh halts his movements and waits for another sign. Something. Anything.
But there’s nothing. Nothing until his eyes land on her hand, trembling slightly where it rests right next to a crease in the bed sheets near his stomach, almost touching him. Close, so close. And yet so far away.
“Zehra,” he whispers, trying to suppress the pain in his voice as he pulls his arm back, mirroring her action. Judging by her sorry, she heard it still.
The simple and yet complicated word flowing from her lips makes him flinch, the quietness of it like a thunderclap echoing through the morning landscape, reminding him of the darker times in their relationship. Of mistakes and of guilt that now rains down on him.
His vision obscures, images of their breakup playing on his mind. Of her angrily clenching and unclenching her fists, lips pressed together in a harsh line, tears silently and unbiddenly rolling down her cheeks. And of him falling apart, desperately trying to turn back time or to piece the broken shards back together as they got sucked into the abyss, whispering more sorrys than he had uttered in his lifetime and meaning every single one of them.
All of it – her facial expression, her stepping out of his reach when he tried to close the suddenly existing distance between them, and the crushing feeling of losing her most of all – is carved into his memory, into his heart. A loud black spot that still screams in agony.
It too does so currently with him being right next to Zehra, the silence between them becoming deafening, leaving barely any room to breathe, and Suresh is about to stand up and leave when her eyes meet his again.
Just like always, his heart is hammering a little quicker, the sound a little more melodic and peaceful. And yet, the naked vulnerability in her eyes makes it stutter and strain. The open pain lingering in them mingles effortlessly with something much softer, more comforting.
And Suresh chooses to drown in the latter part, pushing away the thought that the look is almost foreign to him, missing the love it held over a year ago. Instead, he latches onto the warmth emanating from them, the glimmer of light that dares him to hope again. To hope for it to expand, turning a single lazy ray of sunshine in the morning landscape to a blinding orchestra in the afternoon.