18th March, 2021

Eram’s cast was finally removed.

She stared at her right hand like it was a long-lost friend who had just come back from war. She flexed her fingers repeatedly, like a child discovering magic. Not being able to use her hand for so long had made her feel like it wasn’t even a part of her body anymore. Now that it was free, she couldn't stop whispering, Alhamdulillah.

She must’ve thanked her Rabb a hundred times that day. Just being able to hold a spoon, tie her hair, or adjust her dupatta felt like a divine blessing. Every time she used her hand, she was reminded of her temporary helplessness, and with each reminder came a soft, tearful Alhamdulillah.

Her legs were slowly cooperating too, though walking was still an uphill battle. A few steps and she’d feel like she’d run a marathon. She was trying, practicing every day to stand on her own two feet—literally and emotionally.

And emotionally... that was where the real limp lay.

Her relationship with Shumail was exactly like her recovery—some progress followed by painful setbacks. He wasn’t ready. He was distant, closed off, insecure. And she blamed herself for not giving him the assurance he needed when it mattered most. If only she had spoken her truth earlier—if only she had trusted him loud enough for him to hear it through the storm.

Now, the storm had passed, but it had left ruins behind.

She was losing steam, confidence, and hope. Every day she found herself holding on to threads that were fraying fast. She didn’t know how long she could keep pretending this was still a marriage. Her heart ached with the weight of pretending.

Maybe soon, she’d have to leave—not dramatically, but quietly. Just vanish from his world, as he once did from hers.

That evening, she wheeled herself into the kitchen, setting out snacks for Shumail. She was carefully arranging them on a tray when her little brother strolled in.

“What are you doing, Aapi?” Zain asked, eyeing the spread.

"Your Shumail bhai will be back from office soon. I thought I'd surprise him," she replied with a hopeful smile. “Want some too?”

"But Bhai said he’ll be late today,” Zain said, his tone unsure. “He called on the landline. Told me to let you know.”

Eram blinked. “He told you to tell me?”

Zain nodded, fidgeting slightly. “Yeah.”

“Oh... okay,” she muttered, her smile faltering slightly. “Thanks, love. Go finish your homework.”

Zain disappeared quickly, leaving her in the silence of the kitchen. She sighed and wheeled herself back toward her room.

Since the accident, her room had been shifted to the one beside the stairs for easier access. To keep up appearances, Shumail had moved some of his things into that room as well, but the room felt sterile. It didn’t smell like him, didn’t have his books scattered around, his jackets lazily thrown about. She missed his room—the room she had once called their room.

She reached her closet and pulled out her diary. Tucked between her clothes, the diary had been her one true confidante after Shumail left without a word a year ago. No calls, no notes, no goodbye. Just... silence.

And in that silence, she wrote.

Every week, a letter. Each one handed to his secretary who never disclosed his location, only murmured, “He’d fire me if I told you.” Not even a postmark to guess from.

Each letter carried her soul. Each one a little bottle she threw into a stormy ocean, hoping it’d reach him.

Sighing, she flipped open the diary and wrote:

Day 487.

Still without you.

You're so close now, yet your heart feels miles away. I'm starting to believe I won’t be able to bridge the distance anymore.

When you came back, I foolishly thought it was a new beginning. Turns out, it was just a soft reset.

Should I stop dreaming, Shumail? Wake up and stop building a future in my head that you don’t want?

Tell me... am I still your wife? Or just a name on a piece of paper?

Maybe I should free you from this chain of make-believe marriage. I'm starting to think I don't have what it takes to win you back.

Should I say goodbye? Or just fade out quietly?

Promise me one thing: Be happy, even if it's without me.

And just in case you’ve forgotten—

I love you. I always have. I always will.

Yours and only yours,

Eram Shumail Ibrahim.

Eram let out a half-laugh, half-sigh as she closed her diary.

Her name still sounded nice. Eram Shumail Ibrahim. But soon, she'd stop using it. She wasn’t going to ask him for a divorce—she just didn’t have the heart. She would walk away instead. Quietly.

Later that night, she sat by the window, staring into the darkness until the screech of tires snapped her out of her trance. Startled, she looked at the clock—it was past midnight.

Wheeling toward the hallway, she caught sight of Shumail. He was on the phone, laughing—a full-blown laugh that made his dimples peek through.

It had been so long since she’d seen him smile like that.

Her own lips curled slightly—until she heard what he was saying.

“Oh no, Ms. Bahar. You were more than generous when I was staying in Turkey... Really, it’s too kind of you.”

Ms. Bahar?

He looked at her briefly as he passed but resumed his call without missing a beat. Her smile vanished.

She followed him back into the room. He had ended the call and was shrugging off his coat.

“Should I arrange dinner? I was waiting to—"

“Already had it with the delegates,” he said, cutting her off mid-sentence.

“Oh,” she said softly, “...have it with you.”

He moved to the closet without replying.

“Can you put me on the bed... one last time?” she asked.

His gaze snapped to her.

“As if you won’t find another excuse tomorrow." He mumbled under his breath, but she heard it. Still, she didn’t respond.

He scooped her up gently and placed her on the bed, tucking the duvet around her. He moved to his side and lay down.

“My neck’s stiff from the couch,” he announced dryly. “So I’m sharing the bed tonight. Don’t get ideas.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “My romantic illusions took an early retirement.”

She smiled faintly, her back to him.

A while later, when the shuffling beside her stopped, she turned toward him. He was fast asleep. Scooting closer, she wrapped her arm around his torso, her forehead brushing against his back.

“One last time, Shumail,” she whispered. “Just... one last time.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, which she wiped quickly before closing her eyes.

Shumail stirred, frowning. Something felt... different.

A hand was wrapped around his waist.

He twisted slightly to find Eram clinging to him, snuggled against his back.

“She’s collecting emotional souvenirs now,” he muttered, exasperated—but then paused.

His eyes softened.

Her forehead was creased. Reaching out instinctively, he touched it—and immediately felt the heat.

His frown deepened.

He placed his palm against her cheek. Burning.

“Eram?” he whispered, tapping her cheek gently. “Eram?”

No response.

He bolted out of bed and grabbed the medicine box, fishing out ibuprofen and water.

Sitting beside her, he lifted her gently into his arms. Her eyes fluttered open weakly.

“Take this. It’ll help,” he said, putting the tablet in her mouth and helping her sip the water.

She gripped his shirt, refusing to let go.

“Please... hold me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He turned off the AC and wrapped her in the duvet, pulling her into his arms.

“You’ve got a way of making me feel like I still matter,” he murmured, pulling her even closer.

He could feel her trembling, her hands still clutching him like he was her lifeline.

As her cheek rested against his chest, he found himself feeling something he hadn’t in a long time—peace.

“She’s sick. That’s all. That’s why I’m doing this,” he reasoned in his head.

But the reasoning felt hollow.

He tightened his hold, rested his chin over her head, and sighed.

It was time to make a decision.

Before she stopped waiting altogether.

Assalamualaikum!!

I know! I know! No update for 8 months! That's a lot I know but I had my reasons!

To those of you who don't know, I got engaged 6 months back Alhamdulillah and also I had a few stuffs going on in life that kept me from writing. Also I was having a huge writer's block for the first time ever!! I had the story in mind but had no appropriate words to jot down!

I would request you all to keep me in your duas. It will mean a lot.

Coming back to the story. How was the chapter? Shumail is not ready to forgive Eram! Should she finally leave him for good? Will Shumail realise that he's being too extreme? Or will it be too late until he realises that?

Can you guys leave behind some beautiful comments? They might help in making me feel good and also energise me to write again?

I don't promise quick updates now and I'm telling this to you all beforehand. I'm still going to try my best and end both of my stories in this year if possible In Sha Allah but no promises though.

Until next time...Ma Salama!