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He woke up with her name on his lips. He sighed and turned to his right to find his wife sleeping peacefully next to him,
"il7imdilla ma sme3at.." he whispered. He recited ilmo3awethat under his breath and turned to his right side, trying to drift off to sleep, but her ghost followed him everytime he closed his eyes. He remembered her beautiful face, her long wavy hair, her pure white skin, her innocent smile, her contagious laugh, and a lonely tear escaped through his eyelids.

Lonely like him.
He remembered her face when he told her that he can't be with her anymore, she can't be his wife, the baby they dreamt of will never be born, the house they imagined will never be built.
She swore that day they she won't cry for him, she told him that he was weak and the man she fell in love with was not.
Was he really weak? he wondered, he certainly never argued with his father the day he told him he was to marry his cousin.
After that day he didn't see her, she dissappeared from his life, until ironically he saw her in his wedding, the day that they had planned together, except she was not the one waiting for him on the small stage, instead she was the one sitting on a far table, swaying to the loud music with tears streaming down her face.
Did he let her down? Maybe, but he definately let himself down.