Author's POV.

They returned to their apartment. Dua anxiously roamed around the room, waiting for Jiya to come back. Just then, the door opened and Jiya walked in.

“What did you find out?” Dua asked desperately. Jiya sighed and sat on the bed.

“Dua… he is Shazil Siddiqui,” Jiya started sadly. Dua shook her head in denial. Jiya held her hand, pulled her beside her, and continued, “He is the eldest grandson of Hadeed Siddiqui. You remember Burhan sir, who visits our office once a year? Aliya is his daughter…” She paused momentarily, glancing at Dua’s expression, which remained unreadable. “…And she is Shazil’s fiancée. They’re going to get married in the next three months.” She squeezed Dua’s hand. “He is not your Momin,” Jiya said in a concerned voice.

Instead of crying, Dua smiled.

“He is my Momin,” she asserted firmly. “You know, Jiya… when he came in front of me after six years, I didn’t see his face first—but my heartbeat increased instantly. Meri aankhon ke dekhne se pehle hi meri rooh ne uski maujoodgi ko mehsoos kiya. (Before my eyes could see him, my soul felt his presence.) So please don’t say he isn’t my Momin.” She wiped away the lone tear that escaped her eyes.

“He is angry. I had never seen him angry before. And I always knew that if he ever got angry, I would have to go through hell and back to melt his anger. And I’m so ready for that now,” she said with a warm smile.

“I don’t know… If he is Momin, then who is Shazil? And why does his grandfather love him so much? I even heard that by next year, Shazil will become the CEO of all their branches.”

“I don’t know either,” Dua whispered. “But I will find out. I will make Momin confess that he is my Momin—my love, my husband.”

“Dua, if you are so confident that he is your Momin, then why don’t you tell him about—”

“No! Not now. I will melt him first, then I’ll tell him,” Dua said with a small, sad smile.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

He threw his blazer onto the bed and sat on the sofa, clutching his hair. He could still feel her touch on his face, and her words kept echoing in his mind.

She is Dua Momin Ali.

She is Dua Momin Ali.

She is Dua Momin Ali.

“Urghh!” He screamed through gritted teeth, trying to silence the words he had heard an hour ago.

“No! I have to stay composed. I can’t break the resolve I built over these years. She means nothing to me—nothing!” he repeated, forcing his heart to calm down.

But the feeling was so strong, it was impossible to ignore. Her beautiful face haunted him. The glow and haya (modesty) on her face made his heart pound in his chest. The image kept replaying in his head—her at his feet, her scarf-covered head with a few strands of hair on her forehead, her tear-filled eyes, trembling pink lips, and flushed cheeks. She looked both innocent and tempting.

And when Sahil introduced them in front of everyone, she looked nothing like the carefree girl she once was. She now looked like a composed, graceful woman.

“Shazil,” he heard his Dada Abbu’s voice. He looked towards the door. Quickly wiping his face, he smiled at his grandfather, who walked in.

“Beta, are you okay?” his grandfather asked with concern.

“Yes, Dada Abbu. I’m fine,” Shazil replied with a practiced smile. His grandfather smiled back.

“You made a good decision,” Habeeb said, placing a hand on Shazil’s shoulder. Shazil lowered his head, not wanting to reveal his inner turmoil.

“Shazil…” After a pause, Habeeb called him again.

“Jee?” Shazil looked up.

“Do… do you by any chance know that girl, Dua?” Habeeb asked, making Shazil stiffen.

“No,” he denied flatly.

“Her full name is Dua Momin Ali. You heard it, right?”

At the name, Shazil’s expression darkened.

“I don’t know. Uske baap ka naam hoga. (Maybe that’s her father’s name),” he said coldly, then stood up with clear annoyance. Habeeb studied his face for a moment before sighing and shrugging.

“Alright… You will attend the meeting tomorrow, won’t you?”

“Obviously, Dadu.” The annoyance in his tone was unmistakable. He knew he would have to face Dua in the meeting, especially since the Indian teams would be present.

“I know, my son. We trust you. You have to handle everything. Burhan’s health isn’t good these days, you know that.” Habeeb spoke gently, feeling sympathy for the young man in front of him. Shazil had to shoulder everything alone since his only son Burhan was unwell. Burhan had only one daughter, and Shazil was his only grandson.

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle everything,” Shazil replied this time with a small smile.

Habeeb smiled too, and after a few more words, he went to his room. Left alone, Shazil began thinking about how he would face Dua tomorrow.

__________

The next day Dua and Jiya got ready for the meeting. Dua was feeling anxious. She knew Momin would be there. She didn’t know how the Siddiquis became his relatives, but she was certain he would be there since he was announced as the next CEO of Siddiqui Enterprises.

She wore a Pakistani suit with a scarf over her head and a dupatta draped gracefully across her shoulders.

They settled into the cars that took them to the main office. Dua’s phone rang, and a wide smile appeared on her lips. She became lost in her conversation until the car came to a halt. They had reached.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she said softly, and after hearing the reply on the other end, she hung up the call with a lingering smile.

They went straight to the 16th floor. Dua was briefing Jiya and her team members when she saw Shazil walking toward the conference room with a few of his employees. Dua’s world stopped at the sight of him. He was deeply engaged in a discussion with his PA. Dua took a step forward to come into his line of sight and succeeded as he briefly raised his eyes toward her. But the next second, he looked away and passed beside her without pause. The pang of hurt was unbearable.

Was he the same Momin whose world used to stop when she came into his view?

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked several times, refusing to break down.

They all followed behind him into the conference room.

The meeting included Dua’s presentation, which she delivered with elegance and composure. More than once, she felt the weight of his gaze upon her. When she concluded, the room was filled with appreciation.

“It’s a very good idea,” Burhan Siddiqui said, visibly impressed.

“I must say, I’m impressed with the work you’ve done, pretty lady,” their MD, Deniz, from the Turkish company, remarked with a polite smile. Dua returned the smile with courtesy.

Shazil, however, didn’t say a word. He silently stared at the screen, though inwardly, he admitted her presentation had been remarkable. Once the discussion wrapped up, people began leaving the room.

As Dua gathered her things and turned to exit, she found him standing there, watching her, his PA beside him.

“You did give a good presentation, Miss Dua,” he said flatly. Dua smiled softly in return.

“Thank you, Sir. And it’s Mrs. Momin Ali,” she corrected him gently, making his jaw clench tightly.

“Okay, Miss Dua,” he replied, emphasizing the word, before walking out of the room.

Dua smiled faintly, thinking, He won’t be able to hold back his emotions for long… because she always intensify them.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

“Assalamualaikum, Nanu!” Amad entered the house and hugged his grandmother. She kissed his forehead and replied warmly to his salam.

“You’re here again…”

Maham was in her room scrolling through her phone when she heard a knock. She looked up to find Amad standing there, smiling. She sighed, putting her phone aside, and stood up from the bed.

“You don’t find peace in your own house that you come here every other day?” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

“But my peace is here,” he replied with a pout, making her shake her head. A small smile crept onto her lips despite herself.

“You just never miss a chance to flirt with me…”

“You are my fiancée and soon-to-be wife, so this flirting is absolutely legit.”

“Even if it were the other way around, you’d still flirt with me,” she teased.

“Won’t argue with that,” he winked, settling comfortably on the sofa.

“If Papa finds out you barged into my room, he’ll be angry,” Maham warned as she sat back on the bed.

“Mamu is busy. He has a meeting with our company. I sent Dad to attend in his place while I came here,” Amad confessed with a mischievous grin.

Maham shook her head. He stared at her for a few moments before getting up and sitting beside her. Startled, Maham stood up quickly, but he held her wrist gently, making her sit again.

“Sit. Don’t run away,” he said softly. She shifted a little away from him, uneasy.

Amad smiled sadly and shook his head. “You don’t trust me?”

“No… it’s just that we aren’t in the bond yet to sit close to each other like this,” she murmured.

“That’s a very good thought. And I happen to believe the same. So, I would never cross my limits.” He moved slightly away from her. Unknowingly, Maham’s lips curved into a small smile.

“So… tell me, what’s bothering you?” he asked. She looked at him, puzzled, before realization dawned.

“Rafay told you something, didn’t he?” she asked. Amad stayed silent. Maham sighed. “He just worries too easily. It’s nothing like that.”

“I know you better, Maham,” Amad’s words made her lower her gaze. “I’m here to comfort you. Don’t worry—I’ll do anything to bring a smile to your lips.”

“Amad…” After a few moments of silence, Maham whispered, “I miss Dua. I just want her back.” Her eyes brimmed with tears.

“She will come back soon. I heard she went to Turkey. InshaAllah, I will go and meet her. I’ll try to bring her back in this house,” he said with confidence.

“I just hope she comes back,” she prayed with all her heart.

A few minutes later, Hana called them for lunch.

©©©©©©©

Flashback

Dua went out of her room to meet her parents. She entered the kitchen where her mother was.

“Mama,” Dua called, but Hana didn’t look back. “Mama, please talk to me.”

Hana turned off the stove and started to leave.

“Mama, I know I made a mistake, but I still love him. Mama, please tell Papa to bring Momin back.” She held her mother’s hands, sobbing.

“He will not come back. I was once in his place, and I also didn’t return until your Papa repented. I chose the punishment for your Papa, and now Momin has chosen the punishment for you. And you must accept it until he comes back. You have to repent silently.” Saying this, Hana walked out, leaving a heartbroken Dua behind.

The children didn’t know the full details of their parents’ past, but they knew their father had made some wrong decisions that had deeply hurt their mother. They were on the verge of separation, but Dua’s birth had brought them closer again. That was why Dua was so special to them, which had always made her proud in front of her siblings.

But now Dua had become the one who brought shame upon her parents. She had cheated on her husband, and this pointed fingers at Hana and Rumaan’s upbringing—something they couldn’t bear.

Dua walked into the garden and sat on a bench, gazing at the moon. Loneliness weighed heavily on her. This house always had Momin in it. She didn’t know how to live without him, how to spend her days without Momin and her sister. Rafay, being the youngest, was busy with games and TV, but Maham and Momin had always been her companions.

Dua’s eyes lit up as a thought struck her. She rushed to Momin’s room and took out the box. That day, she had placed it back in his almirah, thinking he would give it to her himself when he returned. But as Mama said, it didn’t seem like he would come back anytime soon. She opened the small box and picked out the keychain with the words engraved: Our Home. Smiling through tears, she went back to her room.

The next day, she took both keys—one to the car he had gifted her, and the other to their home.

She knew the address since Momin had shown her before. Parking outside the beautiful building, she noticed it was new and not very crowded. She went inside and asked the guard.

“Um… Momin Ali’s flat number?”

The guard checked his files and told her. Thanking him, she entered the elevator, her heart racing. Excitement filled her as she anticipated stepping into the home he had created for them.

The elevator stopped, and she walked up to the door. Her heart skipped a beat when her eyes fell on the nameplate:

Dua Momin Ali.

Dua’s eyes filled with tears as she traced her fingers over it. Rising on her toes, she kissed the nameplate. In that moment, she made a vow—she would always carry his name. She would never separate her identity from him. His name was like oxygen for her.

Opening the door, she stepped inside, saying “Bismillah” (In the name of Allah) and called out loudly, “Assalamualaikum” (Peace be upon you).

Finding the switchboard, she turned on the lights and gasped at the sight before her. The interior was beautiful, decorated in cream and brown tones. The brown sofa set looked elegant. She touched everything on her way to the bedroom, marveling. It was a lovely 2BHK home—not too big, not too small.

When she entered the bedroom, she froze. Their wedding pictures adorned the walls. Two more pictures of them were placed on the side table. Her knees weakened, and she sank to the floor. With so much love, he had built this home for them, and she had shattered it before even entering.

Guilt consumed her. She went into sujood (prostration), her forehead pressed against the ground. Her first true prayer, her only plea: Her Momin.

She wanted him back. She decided then and there—she would wait. No matter how long, she would wait. Even if it meant her entire life, she would wait. She vowed to turn this house into a true home with her prayers and presence, so that when Momin returned, he would feel its warmth.

Flashback ends.

★★★★