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Lucy's eyes drifted down to the black silk comforter in the crib, embroidered with Zephyr’s face. "Do you thinkthatwill comfort our child?" she said, pointing to his fierce eyes, glinting with diamonds.
"The boy doesn't need comforting," he said. “He needs strength."
“This will give him nightmares.” She sucked in a deep breath and turned to him. “Please don’t be hurt,” she said, registering his crestfallen face. “It’s just?—”
She hesitated. How to choose the right words? “It’s over the top.There’s no other way to say it.”
“You can’t give a child too much love,” he said.
“This is where love lives.” she pointed to Anwar’s chest. “This is where the treasure is. Your heart is 24-carat gold. You can’t buy love. Haven’t you realized that yet?”
Anwar scowled.
Lucy gestured to a tiny, furry orange lion cub with chewed ears and flayed tuffs of hair. "What's this?”
"Simba," Anwar said.
"Simba?"
"Salim's toy."
"Oh," she whispered. She picked up the little lion and rubbed her finger over his golden fur. The soft velvet toy had been lovingly petted and tousled countless times by Salim as he healed from the trauma of the car accident. Her thoughts drifted to the tragic crash that had killed Anwar's older brother and his wife. Salim, clutching the toy to his heart, had survived the unsurvivable.
"It's adorable,” she whispered, in awe of the miracle the toy had come to represent. Simba’s expressive, dark chocolate eyes seemed to twinkle with mirth as if he held a secret treasure of happiness. Stitched with meticulous care, he wore an endearing smile that never faded, even after years of tender embraces.
"It's damaged," Anwar said, gesturing to the soft exterior that bore the marks of the accident. The scars were a testament to the ordeal he had endured. Yet, his spirit remained unyielding, just like the mighty lion he portrayed.
“I heard that Simba protected Salim, acting as a loyal guardian in the face of danger,” Lucy said. “Along with your brother, who threw his body over Salim, Simba also bore the brunt of the shock. Before and after the accident.”
"Yes," Anwar admitted. "It was Salim's comforter after—" he hesitated, not wanting to relive the fate that took his brother's life. "Salim has gifted Simba to our baby."
"Oh, that's so sweet," Lucy said. “Simba is so loved."
"I'm not sure it’s a good idea. It's broken," Anwar said. "It's got bad memories."
"We all have bad memories. We're all broken.” Lucy said. "That doesn't mean we should chuck everything out and replace it with shiny new things with no history. You think that is love. But it's not where the magic is.” She thrust the soft toy towards Anwar’s chest.
“Simba was Salim’s cherished confidant, a friend who listened without judgment and offered solace with a gentle paw, wasn’t he?”
Anwar nodded.
“I’m sure that they embarked on countless imaginative adventures together. Simba's presence would have been a constant source of comfort to the child,” Lucy said.
Anwar clutched Simba in his hands, noticing for the first time the chewed ears his nephew had suckled. His heart lurched, remembering the painful day he had learned his oldest brother had been killed.
"I know it still hurts," Lucy said.
He stood silently, clutching the lion to his powerful chest.
"It's the first time I've seen you show emotion,” she whispered.
Anwar heaved a deep breath, sucking painful memories deeper into his lungs.
"Let it out," she encouraged, wrapping her arms around him. "Let it go. Isn't that what you told me? To let the grief escape.”
Anwar drew her to his side. She leaned into his powerful chest, feeling it thump as she did so.
"Marhabaan, habibti. Hello, my love," he whispered.
