----
Azhar slowly pushed open the door. The room smelled of medicine and stale air, and of musty sheets. He glanced at the bed, looking at the thin, frail figure shrouded beneath blankets. The figure was breathing shallowly, it's chest rising and falling in short, almost abrupt intervals. It was his wife, Hayati.
Azhar's heart broke at the sight of his wife. He was moved to tears looking at her decaying state of life. Hayati was now only a shadow of her former self. Azhar wiped his eyes, and walked towards the bed, sitting slowly on the chair beside it. Hayati turned her head ever so slightly towards him, the movement looking strained and painful.
"Sayang, how are you doing..?", Azhar asked, despite being fully aware of the condition of his beloved wife. As an answer Hayati only smiled weakly, and slowly blinked her eyes. The smile was a ghost of the warm, wide one it once was. Azhar held her hand in his.
"Sayang, would you like some food or drink? I can make it for you", Azhar said. He was restraining himself from crying. But looking at his wife in a state of sickness, it was proving much too difficult. Part of the reason he had offered to get some sustenance for Hayati was because it was aching him to see her like this.
Hayati smiled again. She said in a soft and raspy whisper, "Can I please have some of the chocolate pudding from yesterday and a glass of warm tea?".
Azhar nodded, bending over to kiss Hayati gently on the forehead. "Wait a moment alright?". He got up and out of the room, glancing back to see that Hayati had already closed her eyes. Maybe, Azhar thought, even opening her eyelids was painful. He made his way to the kitchen. He filled up a kettle to make some hot water and set it on the stove. He leaned on the kitchen cabinet, sighing.
Hayati was suffering from systemic lupus. It was a condition where her own immune system was turning against her, essentially causing her anti-bodies to 'rebel' and attack her own body. There was no cure, and despite treatment to delay the inevitable, her last visit to the doctors made it clear: she was going to die.
That was a year ago. It was terrible news to hear. Azhar remembered that both of them had cried when the doctors told them that there was nothing left to do. So they had accepted the facts, and had tried to live on like normal. Except that Hayati's condition got worse day to day. Now, it seemed, it was only a matter of time. And time seemed short indeed.
Azhar loved his wife. They had been married for 6 years now. They were still childless, although they are trying to conceive. Or were, he thought with a deep pain in his heart. He shook his head, not wanting to think of such morbid matters. Instead he focused on the happier times with Hayati, the times before the disease seemingly took their happiness away from them.
They had met during their final year in university. He was a final year law student, and she was the artsy girl. Their first meeting was a blind date, arranged by his then housemate. It had been awkward when they had met, he remembered. He had somewhat over-dressed, wearing a neat striped shirt tucked into his jeans with black loafers. Hayati, on the other hand, had come in a faded t-shirt, a bandanna around her head, 3/4 jeans with cut off bottoms and slippers.
In spite of that, they got to know each other fast, and soon romance blossomed. They were seemingly fascinated by each other's differences; he was the studious, neat type while she was a fun loving and somewhat carefree soul. But when they fell in love, it was a love personified by a single element: strength.
Azhar rubbed his face with his hands. He glanced at the stove and realized the flame was not turned on. Cursing, he twisted the ignition and the flame came bursting into life. He poured himself a glass of water and waited for the kettle to whistle.
When they had finished university, Azhar immediately got a job at a respected law firm in Kuala Lumpur. Hayati, meanwhile, had somewhat curiously opted to become a kindergarten teacher. They led happy, content lives, seeing each other every week at their favorite dating place, The Curve, always meeting up at the fountain just in front of Cineleisure. It was the place where they had first met and shared awkward introductions.
Azhar was almost overwhelmed by just how much Hayati was in love with him. She took care of him so tenderly, and loved him so selflessly that at times he wondered if he was dreaming. Here was this beautiful young woman, with a soul as free as a butterfly, who loved him. Azhar greatly appreciated this, and he loved her in return like no other man would. He would die for her, he supposed, should that day come.
Then they had gotten married; it was the best thing ever to happen to them. They had enjoyed and indulged in every day together, blissfully aware of the love and need they had for each other. They had spent evenings painting in their home, or cooking together. They went to the movies together, visited each other's parents, went on spur-of-the-moment vacations. They were living a dream.
A dream now seemingly shattered by a disease.
The kettle whistled and Azhar broke away from his thoughts. He made a mug of warm sweet tea for Hayati, and went to the fridge to get the chocolate pudding. Then he brought the little snack to the bedroom for his wife.
As he entered he saw that Hayati had sat herself up. The look on her face obviously showed that it had taken her great effort to do so. But Azhar also knew that she attempted it to please him, to show that she can move without his help. He was touched.
"Sayang, I brought you your pudding and tea", he said. He handed Hayati the mug of tea, but insisted that he spoon her the pudding himself. Hayati smiled sweetly at this. She took small sips of warm tea, and that seemed to bring some warmth to her pallid cheeks. Azhar gently and caringly spooned the pudding for her. Hayati took another sip of tea, then suddenly gave a small, weak laugh.
"What's funny dear?", Azhar asked, amused that his wife managed to laugh at whatever it was that was playing in her head.
"Nothing.", Hayati answered and looked at him. "I was just thinking about the day we met.."
Azhar smiled and put a hand on her thigh. "It was a nice day wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was", she said. "I felt so wrong for dressing up like a hippie when you looked ready for dinner at The Shangri-La".
They laughed, the sound filling the room. Azhar glanced at the room, which was formerly a guest room. They no longer shared a bed. It had been her decision. He had honored it. They continued talking about their first date. At first, both of them had been quiet, feeling like the date was a mistake. But then Hayati noticed that Azhar was wearing a Flik-Flak watch, and showed him that she too, was wearing a Flik-Flak watch. That was all it took, strangely. Soon they warmed up to each other and talked through-out the night in front of the fountain, until all the shops at Cineleisure and The Curve were closed, and a night watchman politely asked them to leave.
Before they did, though, they had exchanged phone numbers and e-mails. A few weeks later Azhar proposed to Hayati to be his girlfriend. The rest, as they say, is history.
"Azhar", Hayati called out suddenly. He was now seated on the bed, his back resting on the wall, with Hayati leaning on his shoulder.
"Yes dear?", he said.
"Will you make love to me?"
He was quiet for a moment. They haven't made love for months now. He was afraid it would be straining or stressful for her. And she really didn't seem like she wanted to do it anyway.
"Are you sure?", he asked.
Hayati nodded. "I can't say how much time I have left.."
"Don't say that"
".. you know it's true. So I don't want to leave this world without being with you for one last time, at least", she finished. She then glanced up towards his face and kissed him. Azhar glanced down at her face and saw the beautiful woman he had married six years ago. Soon enough, they came together for what seemed like the final time. Their inhibitions vanished as they sailed a blissful moment in each other's arms, melting away in their love.
"Sleep with me tonight", Hayati said afterwards, lying wrapped in his arms. Then she rested her head in his chest. Azhar gently stroked her hair, and her bare back, painfully aware of how thin she had become, how weak she was. But he was glad they had made love; it brought back a touch of their former days, and seemed to rejuvenate her a little. Strange. Even so, her breathing still came in ragged, shallow gasps.
But it only lasted for that one night they spent together after so many years. In the days that followed, Hayati's condition became worse. Their doctor came for a visit, and privately told Azhar it was now only a matter of days. Azhar took the grave news calmly, and did not tell Hayati. When the time came, she would know. Azhar took leave from work to care for his dying Hayati.
Azhar now slept in the same room. He had brought in a mattress and slept beside Hayati's bed. Hayati grew weaker every day, until she couldn't even bear to talk. But somehow she always found the strength to smile, or give Azhar's hand a light touch, to show that she appreciated what he was doing.
One day, in the wee hours of the morning, when the sun wasn't even out yet, Azhar woke up to the sound of Hayati's whispering voice calling his name. He immediately got up and went to her bedside. Hayati was wearing a nightgown. She looked worse than ever, her body bare bones, her hair messed up and frizzled. Her eyes were sallow, her skin devoid of colour. Her body was trembling ever so slightly. Azhar seemed to sense that the time was coming. He took her fragile hand in his.
"Yes Sayang, what is it?", he asked quietly. Hayati was breathing fast, her breasts hitching up and down. She spoke in ragged words, almost inaudibly.
"Do.. you.. remember when we first met at the fountain?", she said. Azhar nodded.
"I want to go there..."
"We'll go there in the afternoon alright Sayang?", Azhar said, though he doubted that it would come to pass.
"No..", Hayati said, shaking her head slowly from side to side. She was deteriorating. "No, I want to.. go there.. now.."
"Now?", Azhar asked, confused.
"Ye..Yes.. Now.. please.. do you love me?", Hayati turned to him with pain in her eyes. "I wish to go there, where we first met.."
"It's still early, Sayang.."
"I know.. But please.. take me there now.." He heard the plea in her voice. It pained him.
Azhar thought quickly. What harm could it do? And what wouldn't he do for her? In his heart, he knew Hayati was going to pass away soon. Maybe it was alright to honor her wish, even if his mind told him it was ridiculous. He lifted Hayati's grossly light body off the bed and carried her outside. He took her to the car, strapped her in and locked his house. Then they drove the fifteen minutes or so to The Curve, to go the fountain where they had first met. When they arrived, it was still dark. There was barely a soul walking around. Azhar didn't even see a night watchman.
Hayati declined the wheelchair that was kept in the car, instead asking Azhar to carry her to the fountain. He did as he was asked. His heart was racing. It could be any moment now. But why the insistence? he wondered. Then he decided it didn't matter.
They finally reached the fountain. Hayati asked Azhar to sit down, cradling her in his arms. It was cold. Dawn was about an hour away. Azhar glanced around to see if there were anybody else, less they be mistaken for devious characters.
"Azhar, my love..", Hayati said weakly in his arms. He was kneeling beside the fountain, it's jets of water dead, the surface of the water in the pool as still as glass.
"Yes Hayati?", he said. He looked at his wife's face and broke into tears. She looked deathly pale. Almost, he thought with deep horror, corpse-like.
"Azhar my love.. I wanted.. I wanted you to take me here because this is where we first met.. and this is where we always met up.. remember? I want to die here.."
Azhar nodded. Hayati spoke again, despite the obvious stress that was on her. Azhar wept freely now, just waiting for the moment that life be taken away from his beloved wife.
"Azhar my love.. I want to tell you that I love you so much.. and I wanted to thank you for taking care of me all these years we've been together.. I truly appreciate it Sayang.."
"Hush, mengucap Sayang..and I love you too Hayati.. I love you so much. Forever..", Azhar said, kissing Hayati on the forehead.
"Forever?", she asked.
Azhar nodded again. "Forever. I can never love again, after you"
Hayati smiled, and in the darkness, the smiled looked oddly mischievous.
"Hold me and tell me you will love me forever, and that there will never be another but me", Hayati said. Azhar embraced her close to his body, sobbing, knowing her life was draining out of her.
"Sayang, I will love you forever, and there will never be another in my life. I will never love again. You're my last, my everything, I promise", Azhar said with Hayati in his arms. He felt her shallow breathing on his neck.
Then a strange, lucid sensation pierced his neck on the left. Odd, he thought for a moment. Then the sensation turned to excruciating pain as a blade of a knife sliced him across the neck, from left to right. In reaction, and total shock at the abrupt move, Azhar suddenly dropped Hayati out of his arms and put his hands around his neck, and felt hot blood gush out of the cut, saturating his chest. His breathing came in ragged gasps, and Azhar tried to speak when he realized he couldn't do both, as his windpipe was almost severed. Slowly he was losing consciousness as the blood poured and sprayed out of the wound. Azhar fell backwards, his back propped against the fountain's curb. His eyes looked at his Hayati, who was lying on her back on the floor beside him. In her hands was a small kitchen knife. Wildly in the back of his mind he remembered that he had brought the knife to her bedside to cut pieces of fruit for her a few days back. She had somehow pocketed it.
Weakened and stunned, Azhar fell on the side of his face beside Hayati, facing her. His body went into spasms like a slaughtered animal. The blood that was pouring out of his severed arteries and veins pooled around his neck and head, making a crimson puddle. In his dying moments, he heard Hayati speak.
"Sayang, I'm sorry.. I'm sorry it had to be this way.. but.... I had to make sure I would be your only one. I couldn't bear to die knowing that you may..... in the future love someone else... it hurt me.. it hurt me more than the disease ever could.. so I figured.. I figured out a way... but I'm sorry it had to be this way.. Sayang, maafkan Yati.. Azhar, I love you.."
The last image in Azhar's eyes was of Hayati blowing him a kiss, and saying 'Goodbye' , and closing her eyes.
Then, blackness. Nothing.
------------------------------
As the sun rose, Hassan, an elderly watchman about to finish his night-shift, walked along The Curve's 'The Street' towards Cineleisure. As he approached the courtyard containing the fountain that separated The Curve from Cineleisure, his eyes spotted two figures lying motioneless beside the fountain. It looked like people, he thought. Drug addicts? Curious, he made his way to the figures, his hand unconsciously moving to the baton on his waist.
"Ya Allah!", he said when he reached the figures, and immediately he turned away in shock. His complexion went pale, his stomach churning; he felt the bile rise in his throat. Minutes later, still reeling from the sight, Hassan made the call to the police.
------------
Azhar slowly pushed open the door. The room smelled of medicine and stale air, and of musty sheets. He glanced at the bed, looking at the thin, frail figure shrouded beneath blankets. The figure was breathing shallowly, it's chest rising and falling in short, almost abrupt intervals. It was his wife, Hayati.
Azhar's heart broke at the sight of his wife. He was moved to tears looking at her decaying state of life. Hayati was now only a shadow of her former self. Azhar wiped his eyes, and walked towards the bed, sitting slowly on the chair beside it. Hayati turned her head ever so slightly towards him, the movement looking strained and painful.
"Sayang, how are you doing..?", Azhar asked, despite being fully aware of the condition of his beloved wife. As an answer Hayati only smiled weakly, and slowly blinked her eyes. The smile was a ghost of the warm, wide one it once was. Azhar held her hand in his.
"Sayang, would you like some food or drink? I can make it for you", Azhar said. He was restraining himself from crying. But looking at his wife in a state of sickness, it was proving much too difficult. Part of the reason he had offered to get some sustenance for Hayati was because it was aching him to see her like this.
Hayati smiled again. She said in a soft and raspy whisper, "Can I please have some of the chocolate pudding from yesterday and a glass of warm tea?".
Azhar nodded, bending over to kiss Hayati gently on the forehead. "Wait a moment alright?". He got up and out of the room, glancing back to see that Hayati had already closed her eyes. Maybe, Azhar thought, even opening her eyelids was painful. He made his way to the kitchen. He filled up a kettle to make some hot water and set it on the stove. He leaned on the kitchen cabinet, sighing.
Hayati was suffering from systemic lupus. It was a condition where her own immune system was turning against her, essentially causing her anti-bodies to 'rebel' and attack her own body. There was no cure, and despite treatment to delay the inevitable, her last visit to the doctors made it clear: she was going to die.
That was a year ago. It was terrible news to hear. Azhar remembered that both of them had cried when the doctors told them that there was nothing left to do. So they had accepted the facts, and had tried to live on like normal. Except that Hayati's condition got worse day to day. Now, it seemed, it was only a matter of time. And time seemed short indeed.
Azhar loved his wife. They had been married for 6 years now. They were still childless, although they are trying to conceive. Or were, he thought with a deep pain in his heart. He shook his head, not wanting to think of such morbid matters. Instead he focused on the happier times with Hayati, the times before the disease seemingly took their happiness away from them.
They had met during their final year in university. He was a final year law student, and she was the artsy girl. Their first meeting was a blind date, arranged by his then housemate. It had been awkward when they had met, he remembered. He had somewhat over-dressed, wearing a neat striped shirt tucked into his jeans with black loafers. Hayati, on the other hand, had come in a faded t-shirt, a bandanna around her head, 3/4 jeans with cut off bottoms and slippers.
In spite of that, they got to know each other fast, and soon romance blossomed. They were seemingly fascinated by each other's differences; he was the studious, neat type while she was a fun loving and somewhat carefree soul. But when they fell in love, it was a love personified by a single element: strength.
Azhar rubbed his face with his hands. He glanced at the stove and realized the flame was not turned on. Cursing, he twisted the ignition and the flame came bursting into life. He poured himself a glass of water and waited for the kettle to whistle.
When they had finished university, Azhar immediately got a job at a respected law firm in Kuala Lumpur. Hayati, meanwhile, had somewhat curiously opted to become a kindergarten teacher. They led happy, content lives, seeing each other every week at their favorite dating place, The Curve, always meeting up at the fountain just in front of Cineleisure. It was the place where they had first met and shared awkward introductions.
Azhar was almost overwhelmed by just how much Hayati was in love with him. She took care of him so tenderly, and loved him so selflessly that at times he wondered if he was dreaming. Here was this beautiful young woman, with a soul as free as a butterfly, who loved him. Azhar greatly appreciated this, and he loved her in return like no other man would. He would die for her, he supposed, should that day come.
Then they had gotten married; it was the best thing ever to happen to them. They had enjoyed and indulged in every day together, blissfully aware of the love and need they had for each other. They had spent evenings painting in their home, or cooking together. They went to the movies together, visited each other's parents, went on spur-of-the-moment vacations. They were living a dream.
A dream now seemingly shattered by a disease.
The kettle whistled and Azhar broke away from his thoughts. He made a mug of warm sweet tea for Hayati, and went to the fridge to get the chocolate pudding. Then he brought the little snack to the bedroom for his wife.
As he entered he saw that Hayati had sat herself up. The look on her face obviously showed that it had taken her great effort to do so. But Azhar also knew that she attempted it to please him, to show that she can move without his help. He was touched.
"Sayang, I brought you your pudding and tea", he said. He handed Hayati the mug of tea, but insisted that he spoon her the pudding himself. Hayati smiled sweetly at this. She took small sips of warm tea, and that seemed to bring some warmth to her pallid cheeks. Azhar gently and caringly spooned the pudding for her. Hayati took another sip of tea, then suddenly gave a small, weak laugh.
"What's funny dear?", Azhar asked, amused that his wife managed to laugh at whatever it was that was playing in her head.
"Nothing.", Hayati answered and looked at him. "I was just thinking about the day we met.."
Azhar smiled and put a hand on her thigh. "It was a nice day wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was", she said. "I felt so wrong for dressing up like a hippie when you looked ready for dinner at The Shangri-La".
They laughed, the sound filling the room. Azhar glanced at the room, which was formerly a guest room. They no longer shared a bed. It had been her decision. He had honored it. They continued talking about their first date. At first, both of them had been quiet, feeling like the date was a mistake. But then Hayati noticed that Azhar was wearing a Flik-Flak watch, and showed him that she too, was wearing a Flik-Flak watch. That was all it took, strangely. Soon they warmed up to each other and talked through-out the night in front of the fountain, until all the shops at Cineleisure and The Curve were closed, and a night watchman politely asked them to leave.
Before they did, though, they had exchanged phone numbers and e-mails. A few weeks later Azhar proposed to Hayati to be his girlfriend. The rest, as they say, is history.
"Azhar", Hayati called out suddenly. He was now seated on the bed, his back resting on the wall, with Hayati leaning on his shoulder.
"Yes dear?", he said.
"Will you make love to me?"
He was quiet for a moment. They haven't made love for months now. He was afraid it would be straining or stressful for her. And she really didn't seem like she wanted to do it anyway.
"Are you sure?", he asked.
Hayati nodded. "I can't say how much time I have left.."
"Don't say that"
".. you know it's true. So I don't want to leave this world without being with you for one last time, at least", she finished. She then glanced up towards his face and kissed him. Azhar glanced down at her face and saw the beautiful woman he had married six years ago. Soon enough, they came together for what seemed like the final time. Their inhibitions vanished as they sailed a blissful moment in each other's arms, melting away in their love.
"Sleep with me tonight", Hayati said afterwards, lying wrapped in his arms. Then she rested her head in his chest. Azhar gently stroked her hair, and her bare back, painfully aware of how thin she had become, how weak she was. But he was glad they had made love; it brought back a touch of their former days, and seemed to rejuvenate her a little. Strange. Even so, her breathing still came in ragged, shallow gasps.
But it only lasted for that one night they spent together after so many years. In the days that followed, Hayati's condition became worse. Their doctor came for a visit, and privately told Azhar it was now only a matter of days. Azhar took the grave news calmly, and did not tell Hayati. When the time came, she would know. Azhar took leave from work to care for his dying Hayati.
Azhar now slept in the same room. He had brought in a mattress and slept beside Hayati's bed. Hayati grew weaker every day, until she couldn't even bear to talk. But somehow she always found the strength to smile, or give Azhar's hand a light touch, to show that she appreciated what he was doing.
One day, in the wee hours of the morning, when the sun wasn't even out yet, Azhar woke up to the sound of Hayati's whispering voice calling his name. He immediately got up and went to her bedside. Hayati was wearing a nightgown. She looked worse than ever, her body bare bones, her hair messed up and frizzled. Her eyes were sallow, her skin devoid of colour. Her body was trembling ever so slightly. Azhar seemed to sense that the time was coming. He took her fragile hand in his.
"Yes Sayang, what is it?", he asked quietly. Hayati was breathing fast, her breasts hitching up and down. She spoke in ragged words, almost inaudibly.
"Do.. you.. remember when we first met at the fountain?", she said. Azhar nodded.
"I want to go there..."
"We'll go there in the afternoon alright Sayang?", Azhar said, though he doubted that it would come to pass.
"No..", Hayati said, shaking her head slowly from side to side. She was deteriorating. "No, I want to.. go there.. now.."
"Now?", Azhar asked, confused.
"Ye..Yes.. Now.. please.. do you love me?", Hayati turned to him with pain in her eyes. "I wish to go there, where we first met.."
"It's still early, Sayang.."
"I know.. But please.. take me there now.." He heard the plea in her voice. It pained him.
Azhar thought quickly. What harm could it do? And what wouldn't he do for her? In his heart, he knew Hayati was going to pass away soon. Maybe it was alright to honor her wish, even if his mind told him it was ridiculous. He lifted Hayati's grossly light body off the bed and carried her outside. He took her to the car, strapped her in and locked his house. Then they drove the fifteen minutes or so to The Curve, to go the fountain where they had first met. When they arrived, it was still dark. There was barely a soul walking around. Azhar didn't even see a night watchman.
Hayati declined the wheelchair that was kept in the car, instead asking Azhar to carry her to the fountain. He did as he was asked. His heart was racing. It could be any moment now. But why the insistence? he wondered. Then he decided it didn't matter.
They finally reached the fountain. Hayati asked Azhar to sit down, cradling her in his arms. It was cold. Dawn was about an hour away. Azhar glanced around to see if there were anybody else, less they be mistaken for devious characters.
"Azhar, my love..", Hayati said weakly in his arms. He was kneeling beside the fountain, it's jets of water dead, the surface of the water in the pool as still as glass.
"Yes Hayati?", he said. He looked at his wife's face and broke into tears. She looked deathly pale. Almost, he thought with deep horror, corpse-like.
"Azhar my love.. I wanted.. I wanted you to take me here because this is where we first met.. and this is where we always met up.. remember? I want to die here.."
Azhar nodded. Hayati spoke again, despite the obvious stress that was on her. Azhar wept freely now, just waiting for the moment that life be taken away from his beloved wife.
"Azhar my love.. I want to tell you that I love you so much.. and I wanted to thank you for taking care of me all these years we've been together.. I truly appreciate it Sayang.."
"Hush, mengucap Sayang..and I love you too Hayati.. I love you so much. Forever..", Azhar said, kissing Hayati on the forehead.
"Forever?", she asked.
Azhar nodded again. "Forever. I can never love again, after you"
Hayati smiled, and in the darkness, the smiled looked oddly mischievous.
"Hold me and tell me you will love me forever, and that there will never be another but me", Hayati said. Azhar embraced her close to his body, sobbing, knowing her life was draining out of her.
"Sayang, I will love you forever, and there will never be another in my life. I will never love again. You're my last, my everything, I promise", Azhar said with Hayati in his arms. He felt her shallow breathing on his neck.
Then a strange, lucid sensation pierced his neck on the left. Odd, he thought for a moment. Then the sensation turned to excruciating pain as a blade of a knife sliced him across the neck, from left to right. In reaction, and total shock at the abrupt move, Azhar suddenly dropped Hayati out of his arms and put his hands around his neck, and felt hot blood gush out of the cut, saturating his chest. His breathing came in ragged gasps, and Azhar tried to speak when he realized he couldn't do both, as his windpipe was almost severed. Slowly he was losing consciousness as the blood poured and sprayed out of the wound. Azhar fell backwards, his back propped against the fountain's curb. His eyes looked at his Hayati, who was lying on her back on the floor beside him. In her hands was a small kitchen knife. Wildly in the back of his mind he remembered that he had brought the knife to her bedside to cut pieces of fruit for her a few days back. She had somehow pocketed it.
Weakened and stunned, Azhar fell on the side of his face beside Hayati, facing her. His body went into spasms like a slaughtered animal. The blood that was pouring out of his severed arteries and veins pooled around his neck and head, making a crimson puddle. In his dying moments, he heard Hayati speak.
"Sayang, I'm sorry.. I'm sorry it had to be this way.. but.... I had to make sure I would be your only one. I couldn't bear to die knowing that you may..... in the future love someone else... it hurt me.. it hurt me more than the disease ever could.. so I figured.. I figured out a way... but I'm sorry it had to be this way.. Sayang, maafkan Yati.. Azhar, I love you.."
The last image in Azhar's eyes was of Hayati blowing him a kiss, and saying 'Goodbye' , and closing her eyes.
Then, blackness. Nothing.
------------------------------
As the sun rose, Hassan, an elderly watchman about to finish his night-shift, walked along The Curve's 'The Street' towards Cineleisure. As he approached the courtyard containing the fountain that separated The Curve from Cineleisure, his eyes spotted two figures lying motioneless beside the fountain. It looked like people, he thought. Drug addicts? Curious, he made his way to the figures, his hand unconsciously moving to the baton on his waist.
"Ya Allah!", he said when he reached the figures, and immediately he turned away in shock. His complexion went pale, his stomach churning; he felt the bile rise in his throat. Minutes later, still reeling from the sight, Hassan made the call to the police.
------------
.jpg){kind=small}
8 comments:
Post a Comment