Story of a life

 I miss him. I just wanna hold him. I want to be held by him with love just 1 more time.  Perhaps the idea of him and not the real him or perhaps I miss the him that I loved and married. The him that I wanted to father my children. My heart breaks. I don’t know why. I remember often, many times a day sometimes, that he said that I, his wife, was his enemy. Your enemy? I asked. Yes, he said, the Koran says so. I looked at him flabbergasted. I did not know what to say.