Hana's POV

It was 10 o'clock, but Maan hadn't come home yet. I was worried about him. Where could he be? He didn’t know anyone here.

I wanted so badly to make Maan’s first day a happy one. After eight years, he was with his whole family. I wanted him to enjoy it. I didn’t want him to be disappointed in any way. But because of me, he wasn’t with his family. He was hurt. And I was the reason for all this.

Ya Allah, please take care of my Maan. Only You know where he is. Please protect him from evil people and send him home safely as soon as possible.

I was on my prayer mat, making dua (supplication) for him. After I was done, I folded my prayer mat and walked out of my room.

As I came downstairs, I saw Mama and Riya aapi (older sister) sitting in the hall.

Maybe they are waiting for Rumaan, I thought and stood on the last stair.

“Mama, go and sleep. It’s quite late,” Riya said.

“Yes, Riya. It’s quite late—but my son is not at home,” Mama replied. I could see how worried she was.

“Mama, he must be with his friends. He always does that, you know. Whenever there was a bad argument between him and me, he would leave the house and not come back until his temper cooled. So chill, Mama,” Riya aapi was trying to ease Mama’s tension.

“But Riya, he doesn’t know anyone here. His frien—” Mama was saying, but aapi cut her off in the middle.

“His friends are here—Alex and Jake. Both are here, Mama. They also came here chasing Rumaan,” Riya aapi said with a soft smile.

I knew Jake and Alex. They were maan’s buddies. I always saw their pictures on maan’s posts or stories.

I felt relieved after hearing that. If they were with him, then he must be fine.

“Are you sure? They are with him?” Mama asked, still not convinced by aapi’s words.

“Yes, Mama. I called Alex half an hour ago. He said they are with him,” aapi reassured Mama, and Mama nodded.

“Okay, now go and sleep and don’t take tension. I’m here until Rumaan comes home, okay?” Riya aapi said and led Mama to her room.

When they left, I came and sat on the sofa. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

“Hana,” I heard Riya aapi’s voice. As I opened my eyes, I saw Riya aapi seated beside me.

“What are you doing here?” Aapi asked.

“Nothing, I was just...” I bit my lip. I didn’t know what to say.

“Waiting for Rumaan,” Riya aapi completed my sentence with a soft smile.

“Hmm,” I just hummed, looking at the floor.

“Hana, I know you’re hurt. And I know you heard everything,” Riya aapi said, and I looked up at her.

“How...?”

“I saw you when Marzi was taking you to your room,” aapi cut me off and said. I didn’t say anything.

“Hana... umm... Rumaan, whom you all saw in the evening... that is the truth of him now... uhh... he has changed, Hana... uhm, you...” I could tell aapi was nervous.

“Aapi, I know what you're trying to say—that I shouldn't expect anything from him, right?” I said and looked at her. I saw her eyes get watery, and she looked down.

“Aapi... you don’t have to be sad. Aapi, Maan hasn’t changed. He is just distracted. And one day, he will come back to his track,” aapi chuckled at my words. I just smiled and continued.

“I promise, I will bring him to the right path. I love him, aapi... he is my husband, and it is my responsibility to get my husband back on the right path,” I said with confidence.

Yes! I will make him realize how strong our relationship is. I promised myself, too.

“My stupid brother is so lucky to have you as his wife. And don’t worry, I am with you. In fact, our whole family is with you. Hum sab mil kar sidha karenge use (We will all straighten him out together),” aapi said, and I giggled a little.

“We will,” I muttered, smiling.

“Okay, aapi, now you go and rest. You must be tired after a long flight.”

“No... Hana, Ruma—”

“Aapi, I will wait for him. When he comes, I’ll serve him his dinner, so don’t worry and go,” I said and stood up with her.

She smiled and kissed my forehead before leaving. I sighed and sat back down on the couch, then closed my eyes again.

I don't know how much time had passed, or when I fell asleep here—but my eyes snapped open the moment I heard a car honk. I glanced at the clock. It was 11:30 PM.

I stood up and went to open the door. As I did, I saw Maan standing there, his finger hovering just above the doorbell.

He looked at me, then checked his wristwatch, then looked at me again—but said nothing. I, too, found myself staring at him in complete silence.

When he didn’t avert his gaze, I grew uneasy and looked down.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

I nervously began biting my lower lip.

“Move,” came his cold voice after a moment. I looked up at him. His face was completely devoid of emotion. I don’t know what came over me—I just couldn’t move.

“I said, move,” he repeated, his tone louder but still cold. Yet I stood frozen like a statue.

He stepped forward, placed his hand on my shoulder, and gently nudged me aside.

I stumbled a little and looked back. He was heading toward the kitchen?

I watched him silently. He paused, turned back to see me still standing there, then walked to his room—which was on the right side of the kitchen.

The moment I saw him going into his room, I quickly locked the door and ran after him.

“Maan, listen,” I called, placing my hand on the door he was about to close.

“You listen, Hana. I don't want to hear anything. Now move!” he said sharply and tried to shut the door, but I didn’t budge.

“Maan, please don’t do this. I know you’re angry, but please, talk to me,” I pleaded, my eyes brimming with tears.

“I don’t want to talk, Hana. Please go,” he said—but this time, his voice had lost some of its edge.

“Please, Maan,” I repeated, my voice trembling, eyes pleading.

He exhaled in irritation and stepped back. I saw him walk toward the bedroom balcony. Seizing the moment, I rushed to the kitchen to bring him his dinner.

When I returned, he was seated on the couch on the balcony, his eyes closed. I placed the plate on the small table in front of him and sat beside him.

His eyes remained closed, so I cautiously rested my hand on his, which was lying on his lap. He opened his eyes and looked at me—then at our hands. He quickly withdrew his hand and turned his face away.

It hurt. Deeply. I wanted to hold his hand longer—but I knew he didn’t want that. So, I chose to do what he needed right now.

He needed a friend.

“Maan...” I began, but he cut me off.

“Don’t call me that,” he said firmly.

“But that’s what I’ve always called you.”

“I don’t like it anymore.”

“But I do,” I replied softly.

He looked at me, his eyes sharp.

“My name is Rumaan,” he said sternly.

“For me, you’ll always be Maan,” I said, meeting his gaze with a gentle smile.

“Urgh... What do you want?” he asked, rubbing his face in frustration.

You, my heart whispered.

“What?” he asked, startled, staring at me with confusion.

Oh no! Did I say that out loud? Yes, I did. His expression said it all. Ya Allah, what now?!

“Umm... I mean... I want you to eat your dinner,” I stammered, shifting my gaze to the plate. I let out a breath of relief. Thank You, Allah.

He glanced at the plate, then turned his head away again.

“Please, eat first. Then we’ll talk,” I said softly.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I know you are,” I said gently, lifting the plate and holding it in front of him. He shook his head, and I smiled at his stubbornness. I could tell he was starving.

Placing the plate on my lap, I leaned closer.

“Okay... Umm... So you want to let out your anger, right?” I asked.

He gave me a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“Do you?” I asked again.

“If I say yes, then what?”

“Then you have to eat,” I replied with a grin.

“Huh?”

“Yes! You have to eat. If you do, you’ll get loads of energy. Then you can take all your anger out... punching, umm... a pillow?” I looked around, spotted one, and pointed. Then I lifted the spoon toward his lips. But he shot me a dangerous look.

What now? Why is he looking at me like that?

This always worked with Ruban and Arif! Boys love the word ‘energy,’ right?

I was pulled from my thoughts by his dry voice.

“What am I, a five-year-old?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“No... But you act like one,” I mumbled, focusing on the plate.

“Did you say something?”

“No… Nothing,” I shook my head.

“But I heard you,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“maan, I’m sorry. But please, eat something,” I pleaded.

“Huff,” he sighed, then looked at me for a moment before taking the plate from my hands and beginning to eat.

I smiled at him.

You haven’t changed, Maan. Everyone is wrong, and I’ll prove it. You’re still my Maan. Still the same person who can never refuse me. Just distracted. Just stubborn. But I’ll find my way back into your life—and your heart. My love will carve its way in. One day, you’ll love me the way I love you. You can’t deny our nikah forever, Maan. You—

“Ahem, ahem,” he cleared his throat, jolting me from my thoughts.

I looked at him, and he was already staring at me, eyebrows raised.

Oh no, he noticed me staring.

“Umm, I was just... thinki—No, I mean... saying... If you need anything, you can tell me?” I blurted.

“No. And thanks for this,” he said, nodding toward the plate.

“It’s my duty,” I replied with a smile.

He rolled his eyes and tried to stand, but I caught his arm.

“Where are you going?”

“As far as I know, normal people sleep at this time. Yours—I don’t know,” he replied, trying to get up again.

“You don’t want to talk?”

He shook his head.

“Why not? Did you tell your friends what happened today?”

“Really, Hana? You think I’d talk to them about this?”

“Yes, why not?”

“Oh, sure. I can just say, ‘Hey guys, did you know I was married at 13 and now my parents expect me to accept my wife?’ You know what they’d do? First, they’d be shocked. Then they’d laugh at me,” he snapped, standing up.

I stood too and faced him.

“That’s why I’m telling you to talk to me. I’m your friend too. Did you forget? Whenever you were upset, you came to me. You shared everything with me,” I said softly, seeing something shift in his eyes.

“I heard once: ‘Make new friends, but keep the old. Those are silver, these are gold,’” I added with a smile.

“So… you’re gold?” he smirked.

“No. I’m old,” I giggled. He smiled.

“Okay, now tell me—where were you?”

“I was with my friends,” he replied, sitting back on the couch. I sat on the floor in front of him.

“Why did you leave like that, Maan? Do you know how upset Mama and Baba were?” I asked, trying to explain how his behavior had hurt others.

“Mama was waiting for you in the hall until 10 PM. She didn’t want to go to her room. Riya Aapi had to force her to go.”

He looked pained.

“You think I wasn’t hurt? Baba yelled at me, Hana. After eight years, and he yelled at me. Just because I forgot that damn nickname?” he shouted.

Not just that name—you forgot our nikah.

Tears welled up in my eyes.

“And you know what? It was because of you. Because you cried, they all looked at me like I was a criminal.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. A single tear escaped.

“No, Hana. Your sorry won’t undo what happened today,” he said sharply.

“I know it’s my fault. If I had just controlled my emotions, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“But trust me, Maan... I... I was... hurt... when you asked me... who is Maan…” I hadn’t realized I was sobbing.

“Hana, don’t cry,” he said, holding both my arms.

“I’m sorry, but how could I remember that name when no one has called me Maan in eight years?”

“I know... It’s not your fault... it’s m—”

“No, Hana. It’s not yours either. You were hurt because my family gave you false hope about our… nikah,” he said, turning away. My tears fell silently.

“That nikah was a childish act,” he continued, his back to me.

No, Maan. Please don’t say that. That nikah is sacred—it’s our bond.

His words pierced like a blade.

“That nikah doesn’t matter to me. I don’t accept it,” he said coldly.

“But I do,” I whispered just loud enough—and then ran out of the room.

I knew he heard me.

But I didn’t stay to hear his reply.

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