Author’s POV

Dua walked into her room where Jiya was waiting for her.

“Dua, what happened? Did he say something?” Jiya asked, coming toward her.

“No! He’s being so thick-headed. He just forcefully dragged me, put me in the car, and dropped me here. I wouldn’t have come if Aliya wasn’t there. Did he even think about Aliya? What must she be thinking? He didn’t care at all.”

“Dua… Dua… Dua!” Jiya held her arms. “Did he really forcefully drop you here?” she asked with wide eyes. Dua nodded.

“Oh really! That means he cares… and he is Momin!” she exclaimed. Dua narrowed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her chest.

“So… you were in doubt?” Jiya asked, her smile fading.

“No… I mean… I just…” Jiya stammered, not wanting to offend Dua.

“Leave it. He is my husband… my Momin. And I believe it,” Dua said with unwavering confidence.

“Then do whatever you can to make him confess. You have to stir up the love he buried deep in his heart. Dua, you have to make him believe that you are still his Dua—his wife, his love,” Jiya said softly.

“Hmm… I will do whatever it takes to make him confess,” Dua replied, determination in her eyes.

***********

Fatima (Rumaan’s sister and Amad’s mother) and her husband, Shazam, entered the house carrying sweets.

“Assalamualaikum!” she exclaimed cheerfully, drawing everyone’s attention. Rumaan and Rafay had just returned from the office. Rafay went out while Rumaan, Shabana, Hana, and Maham were in the living room enjoying evening tea.

“Arre Fatima beta, tum!” Shabana exclaimed, going to hug her in a motherly embrace. Amad also entered the living room. Rumaan and Hana greeted Fatima and Shazam warmly. When Maham approached, Fatima pulled her into a tight hug.

“Meri pyari bahu,” she kissed her cheeks. (My dear daughter-in-law.) She adored both her nieces and had always wished for Maham to marry Amad. She didn't think about Dua cause everyone already assumed that Rumaan would choose Momin for his Dua, and both Momin and Dua liked each other.

Maham blushed. Shazam patted her head smiling.

“Mama, I am here to give you all some good news,” she said, beaming.

“Assalamualaikum, future wife,” Amad whispered into her ear as everyone’s attention was on Fatima. Maham glanced at him from the corner of her eyes.

“Walaikum assalam,” she whispered back, then went inside to arrange refreshments.

“Naziya’s marriage got fixed, and we are planning to do both marriages at once,” Fatima announced, pausing to gauge her family’s reactions. “Do you have any problem, Rumaan?” she asked her younger brother.

“Nahi. Mai bhi ye farz jald se jald ada karna chahta hun,” (No. I also want to fulfill this responsibility as soon as possible) Rumaan said, smiling. Hana also smiled.

“Mai… wo pani pe kar aata hun,” he added and, before anyone could respond, headed toward the kitchen. Everyone chuckled, knowing he wanted to inform Maham himself.

Amad entered the kitchen, pouring juice into glasses. Her hair was half tied, a few strands falling softly on her face. She moved around the kitchen confidently, flaunting her charm.

Amad leaned on the kitchen doorframe, hand on his chest. “Haye… wo din kab aaye, jab aap hamare ghar ke kitchen mein aise ghoomengi” (Oh, the day will come when you roam like this in our kitchen) he said in a dreamy tone.

Maham looked at him, adjusting her dupatta and tucking her hair behind her ear. His gaze made her nervous. He slowly walked closer and held a strand of her hair, gently moving it behind her ear without touching her skin.

“And when will I do this without any restriction?” he whispered.

“Whenever the right time comes,” she replied, stepping away. He stepped forward. Maham frowned and gave him a hard look, moving another step back. He just smiled innocently and stepped closer.

“The time is coming soon,” he winked.

“Wh…what?” she asked, confused.

“Inshallah, we will get married next month,” he whispered, though he longed to scream it aloud, overwhelmed with joy.

Maham stared at him, uncertainty in her eyes. His happiness was obvious to everyone from the glow on his face.

“I can’t wait. Mera bas chale to kal hi tumse shadi kar lu, but I think Allah ko mujh par taras aa gaya. Jo Mama ne socha, meri bhi shadi karwa dete hai Naziya ke saath saath,” (If it were up to me, I’d marry you tomorrow, but I think Allah felt pity on me. That Mama thought—we’ll have my marriage along with Naziya’s) he informed her.

“Naziya ki shadi?” she asked.

“Han… her marriage got fixed,” he confirmed. Maham just nodded, a strange weight settling on her shoulders.

“Maham,” he broke her trance. She looked at him. “Tum khush ho na?” (Are you happy?) he asked seriously. Maham met his gaze and smiled.

“Han,” she whispered. That single word brought a smile to his face.

“Me too,” he said, even without being asked.

“Anyone could tell just by looking at your face,” she said, taking the tray and walking away. Amad followed, smiling like an idiot.

************

Dua was typing on her laptop when Jiya entered her cabin.

“Come, let’s go. We are leaving,” she said.

“You go… I have some work. I’ll come by cab,” Dua replied. Tomorrow was the final meeting, and she wanted to give her best.

“Okay, take care,” Jiya said, leaving.

Dua continued working, unaware of the passing time.

“Okay, let’s meet tomorrow,” Deniz said, gathering files and his laptop. He was in Shazil’s cabin, preparing for the meeting. He walked out of the room.

Shazil sighed, rubbing his face, a headache brewing. “I should go… I really need sleep,” he mumbled, grabbing his phone, laptop bag, and coat before leaving his cabin.

He noticed the lights in Dua’s cabin still on. Frowning, he looked around—everyone else had left. He walked toward her cabin and opened the door. Dua was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t notice him enter.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, displeased.

“Working,” she replied with one word.

“It’s 8:30,” he said, making her snap her head up.

“What? Oh Allah… I didn’t realize,” she said, typing quickly. “I’m done,” she added, standing up.

Shazil involuntarily waited. Dua’s scarf had loosened, revealing her brown treasure cascading down her back. Shazil felt his heart thump in his chest. He stared at her, unable to blink.

Dua tied her hair into a loose bun, wrapped her scarf over her head, and collected her things. She walked closer to him, who was still lost in thought.

“Mr. Shazil, can you drop me?” she asked hopefully. His trance broke.

“Wh…what?” Confused, he frowned. “No, go with a taxi,” he said, walking away.

Dua stomped her foot and followed silently. They took the elevator and exited the office.

She pulled out her phone, searching for a cab, when a car stopped in front of her. It was Deniz.

“Come, I’ll drop you,” he said, smiling.

“No thanks, I’ll take a cab,” she replied, looking away.

“Oh Dua… don’t be formal, come with me,” he insisted. Dua was about to refuse, but then she saw Shazil watching from afar. Smiling, she nodded.

“Okay,” she said, walking toward his car. He opened the door for her happily. Dua prayed that Shazil would stop her.

“Mis Dua!” And just as she thought, he did. She smiled. “Come, I’ll drop you. And Mr. Deniz, it’s better for you to focus on your work,” he warned. Deniz made a face.

“Okay, sir,” Deniz muttered, and Dua ran to the car.

Once inside, he drove away.

“You threw a tantrum yesterday, saying you wouldn’t come with me. Then why did you come today?” Shazil asked.

“Yesterday, you weren’t accepting that you are Momin, and that girl was with you, so I got angry,” she admitted.

“I’m still saying I’m not Momin. And that girl is my fiancée, Aliya.”

“Huh… fiancée, my foot,” she mumbled annoyingly.

“Excuse me!” He glanced at her with a hard look.

“Excussed” she dismissed, taking out her phone. Shazil shook his head. After few minutes of driving Dua started.

“Momin, I’m hungry. Please take me there. I want shawarma,” she said, pointing to a street stall.

“First of all, my name is Shazil. And second, I don’t have time to feed you,” he said coldly. Dua dulled, silent, looking out the window. She was honestly hungry.

“Okay, let’s go eat. I’m hungry too,” he finally said, stopping in front of the stall. Dua’s face lit up. Shazil got out, bought two shawarmas, and returned.

They ate in the car. He handed her his personal water bottle. Dua smiled softly, noticing her Momin’s hidden concern. She stared at him lovingly as he tried to ignore her gaze. After they were done he started the car again.

Finally, he stopped in front of her cottage.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. He didn’t reply or look at her, driving away.

Dua sighed, her heart heavy.

*************

“So the next month’s 15 is done,” Fatima said, taking the sweets toward Hana, while Shazam went to Rumaan. Everyone got busy, but Amad just stared at his soon-to-be bride, who was smiling at everyone.

Shabana took Maham in her arms, just as Amad hugged his grandmother from behind.

“Koi mujhe bhi to mubarak baad dedo,” he whinned, holding his grandmother’s shoulder. (Someone give me my congratulations too) Everyone laughed at the impatient boy.

Maham’s head rested on her grandmother’s right shoulder facing towards the left, while Amad’s chin leaned on Shabana's left facing towards right. He gave her a bright, joyful smile, while Maham could barely manage a smile herself, stretching her lips into a small, forced curve.

Hana and Rumaan hugged their daughter emotionally. She would be moving to her new home next month.

After receiving everyone’s blessings, she walked toward her room.

Her steps were heavy, just like her heart. Tears began gathering in her eyes, and she blinked repeatedly to stop them. She inhales a few times to calm her nerves. Stepping into her room, she locked the door, and went toward her cupboard. Taking out his picture, she sat on the floor losing all her energy.

“I can never be happy the way a girl deserves to be on her wedding. I can’t forget you. I can’t forgive myself. I ruined you and Dua… how can I be happy? My love for you is one thing, but my guilt for destroying everything weighs heavily on me. I don’t want to believe that you did anything wrong. Momin… I want to say sorry. I want to see you happy. I want Dua to be happy.” She cried silently.

She didn’t speak aloud, but her heart still tugged painfully at his name. She had loved Momin since childhood. If Dua couldn’t forget him, how could she? Perhaps it would be easier for her to move on if she could see him and her sister happy in life—but no one was happy because of her. That thought broke her heart and wouldn’t let her enjoy her own life. She knew she could never love again, but she could find peace—peace that would come only when Momin returns and accept Dua.

A knock at the door startled her. She wiped her cheeks, put the picture back in the cupboard, took a few deep breaths, adjusted her dupatta, and stretched her lips into a smile.

She didn’t want anyone to be hurt because of her. She would pretend as long as she could, just to make her parents happy.

When she opened the door, Amad was standing there with his usual smile—but it wiped off the moment his eyes met her face.

“Yes?” she asked, smiling. She could fool everyone, but not him.

“Tum ro rahi thi?” he asked, worriedly. (You were crying?) Maham felt tears threatening to fall again at his concern. He didn't deserve it.

Gulping down the lump in her throat, she shook her head.

“You can never lie to me,” he added softly.

“Missing Dua,” she said, the only answer that could save her from his interrogation. Amad sighed, a little sadly.

“I told you I will meet her when she comes back from Turkey. Don’t be upset… she will come here,” he said, holding her hand. Maham just nodded.

“Now… can you smile? I’m going, and Mama said I should reduce my visits since next month is our wedding. So now I cannot come to my grandmother’s house, huh?” he added, pretending to be angry.

This time, Maham smiled genuinely at the silly boy.

★★★