Between the interstellar voids in the sky
And the intoxicating cracks in her eyes,
I'm finding myself.

— Mustafa Tattan

Heart is a strange organ: it will keep you restless if it yearns for something, no matter how great a peace of mind you try to find to compensate for the ache it causes. It's a dull, numbing pain draining your tranquility until there is none of it but emptiness.

His thoughts are null, knowing he has lost the battle, but his hearts still longs for the impossible. He doesn't know what progress he had made in getting over her, but with his memories gone it feels like he's back to square one.

Burq gazes at the slowly ascending sun in the sky; it reminds him of her. Doha. How she was always bright as the day; how her name complimented her. Maybe she's still the same— or maybe more beautiful.

Is she happy with his brother? Does Doha love Raad more than him? Or more importantly, did Doha ever love him?

A knock comes at his bedroom door, pausing his dwelling on the past momentarily.

"Come in," Burq permits, keeping his eyes out of the window.

Waleed walks in. "Good morning, your lordship," he greets.

Burq acknowledges him with a nod.

"I've brought your breakfast from the café, my lord. Do you want me to serve it for you?"

Since the day he was discharged from the hospital and came home to uptil now, Leyla visits him everyday and prepares his meals for him, except his breakfasts. So Waleed has to bring him breakfast from the café as Leyla cannot come early every morning, and Burq isn't used to eating from his servants' hands. Although with the story of Adam and Satan Leyla had told him, he has been thinking: what is this discrimination?

"No, I'll eat later," he refuses.

"As you pleases, my lord. Tell me what would you like to have for lunch and dinner so I can get your meals from a restaurant."

At this, Burq finally looks away from the sky outside to his butler. "What do you mean? Where's Leyla?"

It has been almost two weeks since his accident happened, and she has been with him every day. Naturally, he has gotten used to her presence around him. And truthfully, he doesn't really mind her company. She's the polar opposite of him and not his type, but she's fascinating nonetheless.

"Ms. Leyla is not coming today. She called just a while back to tell me to inform you."

Burq frowns. "But why?"

"I've no idea, your lordship."

A strange feeling of loneliness envelopes him. He doesn't know what it is, but he knows he doesn't like the news Waleed has given him. His mood for the rest of the day is going to be sour.

Burq dismisses Waleed with a wave of his hand and he tips his head respectfully before turning around to leave.

Then remembering something, Burq stops him. "Waleed?"

He turns back to him.

"Get me my photo albums," Burq orders.

"Which one, my lord?"

He grinds his teeth before speaking from between them, "Of me and Doha."

"Pardon me, your lordship, but those albums you've already burnt."

His expressions color into disbelief as he arches an eyebrow. "I did?"

Waleed nods in affirmation. "After Ms. Leyla left—"

He abruptly cuts off his sentence. Burq watches him with undiluted interest as Waleed's eyes flick around like a criminal caught in a court. It's apparent to him he didn't mean to say what he just did.

Leyla left? When? Why?

His curiosity sizzles and burns at the incomplete information to know more. But he decides otherwise than asking Waleed, not wanting to put him through the torture of interrogation again and hearing lies in the process that might shake his resolve this time.

Maybe he'll just ask Leyla himself and see how good of friends they were. His skepticism cannot be helped, feeling as if Leyla is weaving a web of lies for him to keep secrets from him. He has to know.

"What time is my appointment with the doctor today?" Burq asks Waleed, letting him off the hook.

"It's 11:00 a.m."

"Go, serve the breakfast then. I'm coming out in a while."

Waleed nods and exits the room without waiting another moment, leaving Burq with piled up questions.

What did Waleed mean when he said Leyla left? Was she and Burq ever together for her to leave him in the first place? He cannot imagine her as his friend, let alone anything more. Surely they didn't have any sort of affair. He might be a man of many sins, but womanizing isn't one of them.

Remember son, a beautiful woman might sedate your lust, but only a good woman can give you love. Do not ever be a foolish man blinded by a body, but seek what's in the heart.

His father words replay in his mind over and over. He thinks, trying to understand their meaning letter by letter.

Doha was beautiful, but that wasn't why he ever loved her. It's beyond his comprehension how it still went wrong when he sought her heart and nothing more. Wasn't that honorable enough?

His thoughts drift to Leyla. She always looks at peace to him, despite the mayhem whirling in her irises. The way she speaks of things sounding fantasy to him makes him believe she's living in a fairytale world. Although the way she smiles tells other stories. She's one of those mysteries that puts you to unrest, and obscures the cracks within her to betray your eyes. She makes him itch to know more, yet is keeping him at bay to sear him.

She's something more.

He curses out loud as he realizes he has lost precious time thinking about her. Exhaling heavily as if to blow her out of his system, he shuts her out and exits his room.

The sun is weak and its rays are feeble, doing little to warm his skin as he and Waleed make their way inside the hospital. In the distance, he spots lightning coloring the sky before disappearing. The rain might be falling later, he thinks.

The smell of spirit and drugs has his nose wrinkling in distaste once he breathes in the hospital atmosphere. He's probably never going to get used to it. This place holds unpleasant memories.

Waleed leaves him in the waiting area as he goes to check on the counter. Burq presses a finger beneath his nose, his gaze sweeping around before zooming on a familiar figure. His pupils dilate. She's not alone but with a child.

Leyla kneels in front of a small boy as she talks to him. She pushes away his bangs from his eyes, those dark strands revealing big and equally dark eyes behind. The child resembles her in many aspects, if not all. He tilts his head, interested, watching them with a calculating stare. A thought occurs to him and he nearly jerks in his wheelchair.

Leyla has a son? She never told him. But then again, why would she? He never asked her as it never occurred to him.

He grimaces, looking away, not pleased with the idea for some reason. Unable to resist, he shifts his gaze back to her only to find her staring back at him.

Burq blinks but holds her eyes. Leyla picks up the child in her arms and walks towards him. He straightens his spine, all the while his focus sharp on her.

"Burq?" She greets him with a smile and slight puzzlement. "Do you've an appointment?"

Certainly he isn't shooting breeze and having fun in a hospital lobby. He mentally scoffs, finding her question absurd.

"Yes," he replies briefly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she scolds lightly, shaking her head at him. "I would've come with you."

He fleetingly glances at the boy in her arms. "Aren't you busy?"

Before she can reply, Waleed reappears by his side. He greets Leyla politely as he sees her. She returns his greetings with a kind smile.

"Your lordship, the doctor is waiting for us in the examination room."

Burq nods. "Let's go then."

"Waleed," Leyla stops them, "I'll go with him."

"No need," Burq refuses all too quickly, then adds, "You're with a child. I don't want to trouble you."

"Ah, I'm sure it won't take long," she insists. "Waleed can take care of Mustafa while I go with you."

His butler nods eagerly and Burq shoots daggers at him. Waleed steps forward to take the child, Mustafa as Leyla called him, from her. The boy lets go of her reluctantly and she kisses his small hand.

"Stay with uncle and don't bother him, okay darling? I'll be back soon," she tells him.

Burq swallows back an annoyed groan. Waleed is the kid's uncle now? Great. This woman can be foolish, he muses, making an uncle out of his servant.

He keeps his face passive as Leyla addresses him, "Shall we?"

"Let's not waste anymore time," he retorts and catches the unamused twitch of her lip, but she doesn't comment.

They go into an examination room where they greet the doctor. He helps him get out of his shirt and removes his bandages. Then checks his wounds, clean them and redress them. Leyla stays by his side all the while, patiently and silently.

"How have you been feeling, Mr. Aziz?" The doctor asks Burq.

"Better," he responds. "I've mild headaches sometimes. Although so far I've no recollection of my memories, not even the slightest. No dreams, no flashbacks. Nothing."

"Don't worry, they'll come in time. But I'll be honest with you, Mr. Aziz," the doctor catches his eyes, "there's a possibility you might never get them back."

Burq's eyes briefly flash to Leyla before jumping to the calendar on the wall and then back to the doctor.

"I thought it's only temporary. That's what I was told," he reasons, his voice growing taut with concern.

"A lot of people eventually regain their memories, but a lot of others don't. It's not always temporary, just like it's not always permanent. But let's be optimistic here," the doctor smiles hopefully, "you've lost only a few months of your memory—"

"Almost a year," Burq interjects, taming down his boiling blood.

A whole damn year. It's a big deal to him.

"That's still better than losing a decade or lifetime of your memories, Mr. Aziz."

Burq bites his tongue as not to unleash it. Pushing his worries aside, he questions, "And my leg? When will I be able to walk again?"

He notices Leyla scratching her eyebrow to avoid eye contact with him. Something is amiss, his instincts tell him.

"In two months with crutches," the doctor informs him.

He shifts uneasily. "Crutches?"

"Yes. If we find your progress satisfactory, we'll remove your cast and put on a splint instead. You can walk with crutches then."

"And when do I heal completely?"

The doctor gives him a look that claws at his peace. He doesn't like it. "You've fractured both bones of your lower leg, Mr. Aziz. Not to mention the fracture is complex, but fortunately the bones are not comminuted to many pieces. If you're lucky and your progress is good, you'll recover completely in four to six months with rehabilitation therapy," he informs him.

Burq lets out a startled, humorless laugh. What are the chances of him being lucky at this?

"The tibia is a large bone and takes time to heal," the doctor continues. "As I said, we'll check your progress and we hope you recover with nonsurgical treatment. But since the fracture is complex, there are chances the bone might fail to heal. Then we'll have no choice but to go for surgery."

He is flabbergasted. His gaze meets Leyla who quickly looks away. She lied to him. His fists clench as an all consuming rage bubbles within him.

Whatever more the doctor says doesn't register into his brain until he leaves the room and Leyla steps forward, calling him softly.

"Burq?"

She places a hand on his arm and he shrugs it off, glaring harshly at her. "You said I'll be walking in two months."

"You will be," she encourages.

He scoffs. "You take me for a fool? Didn't you hear what the doctor said? This might take six months!" he snaps, then shuts his eyes and runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Maybe more than that if I've to undergo a surgery."

"God forbid," Leyla shushes him.

"I don't even know if I'll ever be able to walk again."

"Of course you will be. You won't even need a surgery and you'll recover in no time. Have faith in God, He'll fix everything."

Burq smirks nastily. "He'll fix me when He's the one who broke me?"

Leyla shakes her head. "Don't say that. He's our Lord, capable of everything."

"Exactly. Capable of ruining people too."

This time Leyla narrows her eyes at him sternly. "Exactly. Capable of ruining ungrateful beings like you and replacing them with patient and grateful people instead. Yet He chose to spare your life and gave you a second chance."

Burq looks at her heatedly, feverish at her impudent comment. The brazen expression on her face only heightens his wrath towards her.

"Get out of my sight," he spits, his muscles contracting in wild fury. "Take your son and leave, Leyla."

He watches a maddening hurricane rising in her own orbs, glaring murderously at him but holding back words. Then without further ado, she storms off, leaving him alone.

He resists the urge to smash something to the floor. Something absolutely insignificant has him agitated even more now.

Leyla didn't deny the boy to be her son.

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