I woke up in a sweat. That darned dream again. I saw myself at the edge of a cliff about to jump. I could see my family and my friends calling out to me to stop but I don’t listen to them and I jump. I woke up with a start and realised that I was soaked. I pulled off the covers trying not to disturb Mohib.

I looked at my cellphone. It was 4 a.m. I shut my eyes and tried to sleep again, but I couldn’t. My mind began to race. How could this happen? How was my perfectly happy world turned upside down?

I glanced at Mohib. He was sleeping peacefully. It was still several hours before I would have to wake him up for school.

I turned sides and imagined him lying next to me. He used to look so peaceful in his sleep. So innocent. I felt so safe. I imagined him open his eyes and turn to smile at me. I would have done anything for that smile. Anything to see him smile at me again.

“I love you, Sarah. I have never loved anyone else. You are my queen.” Khawar had a beautiful voice, raspy and husky. Extremely seductive. He was also so handsome, in a Bohemian, rustic way like the Hollywood stars of yesteryears.

“You’re so lucky, Sarah. Women never really get the complete package but you’re so lucky. You have everything.” My friends often cooed. Did I have everything now? A tear began to run down my cheek.

Khawar’s words echoed in my ears. I did believe him. I was so carefree because I was so sure of his love.

And he did love us. These things can’t be faked. How can you fake affection for so many years? How can you fake the love you feel for your child? It just isn’t possible.

“It is the woman who compromises, Sarah. He made a mistake but he’s with you now. He has paid the price hasn’t he?”

I didn’t see it like that and what price did he actually pay. His life didn’t change one bit, I was the one holding the torch for him. I was the one hurting inside. My skin felt like it was being clawed from the inside out. I had to be “normal for the sake of my son and the family but how could I?

I still remembered the day that he told me. It felt like I was stabbed in the heart and then the knife was turned around till I died. I wanted to die ever since that day. It felt like I had already died a thousand deaths since then, I had been euthanised and shocked alive with the paddles and then euthanised again.

“We’re opening up a new branch in Lahore. It’s good for business. I’ll be coming to and fro. We won’t be apart for more than a few days. I promise. And you and Mohib will be visiting too regularly.”

It seemed like a win-win. I began to imagine spending my weekends in Lahore. Maybe even go to Murree occasionally. I was looking forward to the cultural experiences for the family. Especially for Mohib. He would learn so much.

But nothing ever happened.

“I’m just setting up the office. Give me a few more weeks. We’ll go soon.”

Weeks turned into months. I adapted like any loving wife and business was really good. We began to enjoy some luxuries that we weren’t able to before and he had time for me too. In fact, we even took a holiday abroad. So what if we never went to Lahore, we went to Turkey instead.

I couldn’t complain.

And in all honesty, this could have continued forever till I was sent a screenshot from a friend of a friend.

“Isn’t that Khawar? My cousin sent me this yesterday. She lives in Lahore. But her husband looks so much like your friend Sarah’s husband. He is his doppelganger, I think.”

When I saw the picture I knew immediately that it was in fact Khawar and he was posing with his pregnant wife!

The ground was pulled out from under my feet. I didn’t know what to do. He was in Lahore and I didn’t want to confront him like that. But then again, I couldn’t just let this hang over me till he returned.

On a fluke and without thinking I sent him the picture on WhatsApp and waited. I could see the blue ticks and I could see him typing and deleting and typing and deleting.

I finally got a message. “I’m coming home tonight.”

I began to cry because now I knew that the picture was in fact real and this was my husband with his second wife.

Mohib began to stir. I guess I was tossing and turning too much. I got up and as my feet touched the icy cold floor it felt like my whole world being trembled. I walked towards the open window. The breeze felt good on my face. I felt suddenly relaxed.

He came back from Lahore. He was apologetic, but not regretful. Typically male, he said that he hadn’t done anything wrong. It was his right as a man to marry another woman. The Law of the Land allowed it.

But what about me?

My needs were being met and I was taken care of. Mohib had a father. What more would I want?

The family intervened. His family and eventually he was right and I was wrong. I was shattered and I was lost but he was right.

Before all this had happened, I had felt like a boat harnessed to the quay; safe and secure but suddenly I now found that I had become untied during the stormy night and now I began to ride the waves alone. I felt so, so alone. My heart felt like it would drown in my tears and the flood of emotions. I wanted to die but couldn’t. I had to think of Mohib.

I kept on trying at my marriage; I didn’t give up on an impulse.

I tried for almost three months, but then I couldn’t. The hurt was too much and I left. I moved to my parent’s home. I was still figuring it out. I was still making sense of things. Every day was a challenge.

He texted every single day. Every single day.

“I know I’ve hurt you and I didn’t mean to but we need to go ahead from here.”

“Think of Mohib.”

“What will you do? You aren’t in the job market. Will you start from scratch and what about Mohib? He needs both his parents.”

“Even with the money you make, will you be able to live the life you’re used to?”

“I was the only one who took care of you; can you do it on your own?”

But there was no remorse. Khawar used all the tactics a man had at his disposal. He wooed me for 10 seconds then he began to show me the real picture of my existence. A woman who couldn’t live without her man. A woman who needed emotional and financial security. A woman with a child to rear on her own.

I didn’t agree with him except on one fact. Mohib needed his parents. That’s where I was conflicted because whatever he had done to me, Khawar was a great father. He was there for his son.

And what about the other woman? This woman will stay, that was clear and so will the daughter they had together.

I didn’t hate her, the mother or the child, last of all the child. She was Mohib’s sister after all. They hadn’t done anything directly wrong to me. In the beginning, she didn’t even know I existed. Khawar met his second wife through a friend. She had been previously married and had to leave her alcoholic and abusive husband in a matter of months. Initially, I think Khawar felt sorry for her but then again she was beautiful and he was a man. After a few meetings he proposed to her. Her family acquiesced once Khawar guaranteed his loyalty by putting his Lahore house under her name. After that, I think whether or not Khawar’s parents came to the wedding didn’t matter much. I’m not saying they were greedy but he gave her the security she needed and she wanted and that satisfied them all.

And what about me? I was left with my open wounds that refused to heal. I tried to accept the reality but I couldn’t, I just couldn’t.

The sky looked beautiful from the window. So peaceful. It was a little after 5 a.m. now. And I realised that if I didn’t sleep immediately, I wouldn’t get any rest. I would have to be up by 6:30 for Mohib’s school.

I slipped back into the covers and hugged my son.

Khawar promised me child support and he wanted to meet Mohib regularly.

So, everyone seemed to be taken care of but me. I missed him. I missed my husband and I knew that I still loved him. That’s why it hurts the most.

Wasn’t I enough for him? Why did he have to look for love somewhere else? Even though I had asked these questions before, I didn’t get any answers and now even the questions were losing steam. The bigger picture had to be addressed.

“He’ll support you for a while and then what. He will have more kids with the other woman and then where will you be?” The doubts kept getting stronger. “Leaving him will help no one; least of all you.”

In the process of healing I had even tried reaching out to her. I thought that maybe if I made my peace with her I would be able to move on and accept Khawar’s decision. But it didn’t help. She was sweet and kind but then again she had more to gain with me out than in. And I think she never really wanted to be inclusive. She only wanted to be polite and that didn’t help much.

My cellphone pinged. It was him.

I left it on unseen.

I had been at my parent’s home for about a month now. I had run through my mind all the equations and to be honest, my urge was to return home to my husband. I felt cold and exposed. With Khawar, it was only my emotions that I would have to deal with and not the whole world. No one would dare say anything as long as I was with my husband. But here, I had to answer to all those questions all the time.

I put my cell on silent. He was sending me so many messages. Why was he up at this hour, I wondered. Maybe to pray or maybe the baby woke him. I shut that picture out of my head. I closed my eyes and I cried. But I told God that I am crying for the last time. It is now or never.

I had to decide. Khawar wants me now and once that void is filled up he won’t want me at all.

I looked at his messages and they were the usual. In total the essence was mostly, “I love you and please come back. I miss you.”

I had the advantage over him at least for now. He was still in love with me. And he definitely loved his son.

The call to prayer reached my ears and that’s when God gave me an epiphany. I saw in my mind’s eye my future life with my son and with Khawar. It was a happy picture. I felt happy after a very long time. I felt at peace.

I gave my son a kiss on his cheek and then I replied to his messages with a plain and simple “okay” and I sat up in bed to ready myself to offer my morning prayer.