The meeting with the suppliers ended later than expected. Numbers were discussed. Delivery timelines adjusted. Contracts reviewed.
But through it all, Aarib’s mind had not been entirely present. When he stepped out of the office, he found Hikmat leaning against his car, arms crossed.

Hikmat studied him for a second before speaking.

“Where are you lost?” he asked casually.

Aarib blinked, pulled back from his thoughts.
“Hm?”

“You’ve been staring at that wall for five minutes,” Hikmat added. “Should I be worried?”

Aarib exhaled softly.
“I need you to handle the restaurants for two weeks.”

Hikmat straightened. “Two weeks?”
“Yes.”

“Why?” Hikmat asked, brows lifting. “Are you going somewhere?”

Aarib slipped his hands into his pockets, looking calmer than he felt.
“Pakistan.”

Hikmat’s expression shifted.
“With Roshaane?”

Aarib nodded. “She misses her family.”

There was a brief silence.
“Is it urgent?” Hikmat asked carefully.

Aarib smiled faintly and shook his head.
“No. Nothing urgent.” He looked away toward the parking lot. “I just thought… maybe it’s time.”

“Time for what?”

“To give us a fresh space,” he replied quietly. “A change of environment. A little distance from routine.”

His voice softened.
“Maybe that will help us move forward.”

Hikmat watched him closely.Not as a friend teasing. But as a friend understanding.

He nodded slowly. “That’s not a bad idea.”

A pause.
Then the teasing returned.

“That’s fine. I’ll handle everything here,” Hikmat said, clapping his shoulder lightly. “You go. Enjoy your honeymoon.”

Aarib immediately shot him a look. “Shut up.”

But his ears betrayed him, turning faintly red.
Hikmat smirked. “Six months late, but still counts.”

Before Aarib could respond, his phone buzzed.
A message from Roshaane.

"Got the gifts. I’m free now."

His lips curved without permission.
Hikmat noticed.

“Oh,” he said knowingly. “Look at that smile.”

“I’m leaving,” Aarib muttered, pocketing his phone.

He picked up his car keys.
“I’ll see you in the evening.”

Hikmat watched him walk away, lighter than he had been in months.There was something different in his step.Not dramatic.
Not loud.
But decided.

As Aarib unlocked his car, he paused for half a second.

Pakistan.
Home.
Maybe healing doesn’t happen in one grand moment.

Maybe it happens in small decisions.Like buying tickets.
Like holding a hand.
Like planning a future quietly.

He started the engine.
And for the first time in a long while he wasn’t thinking about what he had lost.
He was thinking about what he might build.

----‐-

He pulled the car to the side of the road, just across from the mall entrance.

The evening rush had swallowed Taksim Square in its usual chaos. Cars inched forward impatiently. Horns overlapped. Pedestrians moved in restless waves beneath the bright lights of the towering mall.

Aarib leaned back slightly in his seat, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other tapping absently against the dashboard.

His gaze fixed on the wide glass doors across the street. She should’ve been out by now. He checked the time. Then checked the entrance again. Traffic was too tight to stop directly at the gate, so he had parked near the crossroad instead. He picked up his phone and typed quickly.

"I’m standing at the crossroad because of traffic. Come out."
He hit send.

The message delivered.
He waited.
One minute.
Three.
Five.

Cars passed. A bus blocked his view for a moment. He leaned slightly to see past it.

Still no sign of her.
He glanced at his phone again.
No reply.

A faint crease appeared between his brows.
Ten minutes passed. The tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel grew more frequent.

“Where is she?” he muttered under his breath.

A small, unfamiliar unease began to settle in his chest. He unlocked his phone again and pressed her name.

The call started ringing.
He lifted the phone to his ear, his eyes still fixed on the mall doors, scanning every figure that stepped out,  searching for her face in the crowd.

------
Inside one of the grand malls near Taksim, Roshaane moved between shops, her arms filled with bags, her face bright with satisfaction.

Her phone buzzed. Aarib’s name lit up the screen. She answered at once, her voice cheerful.

“Ne kadar daha sürecek?” (How much longer will you take?) Aarib’s tone carried his usual composure, yet a hint of impatience stirred beneath it. He had been waiting in the car park, glancing at his watch every other minute, his thumb tapping the steering wheel in restless rhythm.

“I’m finished,” Roshaane replied quickly, tucking a strand of hair beneath her scarf as she balanced the shopping bags. “Just walking out now.”

There was silence for a breath, then she added softly, her lips curving into a secret smile, “Seni seviyorum.”(I love you.)

The words lingered in his ear, pulling something deep inside him. Aarib closed his eyes for a moment and, despite himself, a rare smile touched his lips. He had never said the words back not yet but her voice left an ache in his chest he could not deny.

“Gel, bekliyorum,” he murmured. (Come, I’m waiting.)

He drove the car closer to the entrance, eyes scanning for her. And then he saw her, stepping out of the glass doors, her bag slipping from her shoulder, her hands full of shopping bags, her face glowing with joy as she spotted him.

“Aarib!” she called, her voice lost in the rush of traffic. She started forward eagerly, not noticing the car racing down the street.

“Roshaane....!” His shout tore through the air, his hand slamming against the horn.

The screech of tires. The sharp cry of bystanders. The sickening thud.

Her bags scattered across the road, her body crumpling to the ground. The world collapsed in that instant.

Aarib’s chest clenched as he leapt from the car, running, his breath ragged, his mind refusing what his eyes saw. Dropping to his knees, he caught her face in his trembling hands.

“Roshaane… open your eyes. Stay with me!” His voice cracked, desperate, his heart thundering against the roar of the city.

Around him, Istanbul’s noise blurred into nothing. All he heard was the echo of her whispered Seni seviyorum and the sound of his own breaking heart.

-------

The plane descended through a sheet of pale morning clouds. When the wheels touched the runway of Istanbul Airport, Maliha felt her chest tighten.She was back.Back to Istanbul.
Back to familiarity.
Back to safety.
But not back to peace.

She walked through arrivals slowly, her suitcase trailing behind her. The airport buzzed with early-morning energy,  families reuniting, chauffeurs holding name boards, the smell of fresh coffee drifting from nearby cafés.

Then she heard it...

“Maliha!”

She looked up.
Rahman.

Her elder brother stood near the barrier, waving one hand high in the air, his usual bright grin on display. A faint smile touched her lips.
She walked toward him. The moment she reached him, he pulled her into a warm, tight hug.

“Welcome back,” he said softly, and this time there was no teasing in his voice.
She hugged him back longer than usual.

“How was Italy?” he asked as he took her suitcase.

She paused briefly.
“It was… different.”

He didn’t press further.

The drive to Ümraniye was quiet at first. The Bosphorus shimmered in the early light as they crossed toward the Asian side. The city looked the same.

But she didn’t feel the same.
Six months ago, she had left this city carrying old heartbreak.

Now she returned carrying a new one.

When they reached home, the door opened before Rehman even rang the bell.
Mrs. Saba Farooqi stood there.
The moment she saw her daughter, her eyes filled.

“Maliha!”

Maliha barely stepped inside before she was wrapped in her mother’s embrace.
“My daughter… you’re finally home.”

Mr. Farooqi followed, his expression soft but proud.

“Welcome back, beta,” he said, placing his hand gently over her head in blessing.

Her bhabhi stepped forward warmly, smiling. “We thought Italy might steal you from us.”

Two small arms wrapped around her legs.
“Phuppo!”

Her niece and nephew clung to her, their laughter filling the hallway.

For a few minutes, the house was alive.
Questions poured in.
“Did you eat on the flight?” “Are you tired?” “Show us pictures!”

Tea was prepared instantly. Her suitcase was taken to her room. Her mother kept touching her face as if afraid she might disappear again.It was warm.It was loving.It was home.
And yet..
Something inside her felt unbearably heavy.

“I’ll rest for a while,” she said gently after some time. “I’m very tired.”

Her mother nodded immediately. “Of course. Go sleep.”

She entered her room.

Everything was just as she had left it.
The curtains. The dressing table. The quiet familiarity. She sat on the edge of the bed slowly.
The house outside buzzed with happiness, the joy of a daughter returning home.

But inside her heart...
There was a quiet ache.She hadn’t meant to hurt him.She hadn’t meant to walk away without looking back.She hadn’t meant to leave him standing on that terrace with those words in his eyes.She lay back against the pillow and closed her eyes.Instead of peace, She heard his voice.

I’ll wait for you.

A tear slid silently into her hair.
She was home.
But part of her,
Was still standing on that terrace.

-------

The car screeched to a halt outside the emergency entrance. Aarib barely remembered how he had driven.

He stepped out, his legs unsteady, his face drained of all color. The world around him felt distant, blurred like sound underwater. He yanked open the back door.Roshaane lay across the seat, unconscious. Blood streamed from the side of her head, dark and relentless, tracing down her temple, staining her black dress until it was soaked in red. It dripped from the edge of the seat onto the pavement below.

“No please…” the whisper left him without thought.

His white shirt was no longer white. It was smeared, drenched, marked by her blood like a cruel signature.

He slid one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her into his arms. She felt too still. Too quiet.

“Roshaane… stay with me,” he muttered, his voice breaking.

He ran.
“Doctor!” His shout tore through the emergency corridor as he pushed through the glass doors.

“Doctor!”

Nurses and ward boys rushed forward with a stretcher the moment they saw him, a man covered in blood carrying an unconscious woman.

“Lay her down, sir!”

Reluctantly, carefully, he placed her onto the stretcher. His hands lingered for a fraction too long before they wheeled her away.

“I’m coming,” he said breathlessly, running alongside as they rushed her down the corridor.
A doctor met them midway, already pulling on gloves.

“What happened?”

“She got hit...by a car.!” His words stumbled over each other.

The doctor checked her pulse quickly, then gave orders.

“Prepare the OT. Move!”

The stretcher disappeared behind double doors.
And then He was stopped.

“Sir, you have to wait outside.”

Wait.
The word felt like punishment.
The doors shut on his face.
The corridor felt suffocatingly silent after the chaos.

Aarib stood there motionless, staring at the red “Operation Theatre” light as if his gaze alone could keep it from turning off. His breath was shallow, uneven.This wait felt like waiting for a verdict.

For life.
For death.

His hands trembled violently. He pressed them against his face, smearing faint streaks of dried blood across his skin.Her laughter echoed in his mind. Her stubborn smile.Her soft confession, Seni seviyorum.

His chest tightened painfully.

“Ya Allah… please,” he whispered, lips moving in silent prayer. “Not her. Not again.”

He began pacing the corridor, restless, unable to sit, unable to stand still. Every second stretched like an hour. Then his phone rang.The sudden sound made him flinch. With trembling fingers, he pulled it from his pocket. The screen blurred for a second before he focused.

Hikmat.

He answered.

“H-hello....”

“Haan Aarib, I was saying we need you to visit the....”

“Roshaane…” His voice cracked before he could control it. “Roshaane is injured.”

There was a pause on the other end.

“What?” Hikmat’s tone changed instantly. “What happened, Aarib?”

“She got hit by a car.” The words came out shattered. Tears slipped down his face freely now. “She was coming to me… and...” He couldn’t finish.

“Where are you?” Hikmat demanded, panic rising in his voice. “Tell me. I’m coming.”

Aarib swallowed hard and told him the hospital’s name.

“I’ll be there,” Hikmat said firmly before ending the call.

The corridor fell silent again.

Aarib leaned back against the cold wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, his head dropping into his hands.

The red OT light still burned above the door.
He stared at it like a man waiting for his own heartbeat to return.

Inside that room, she was fighting for her life.
Outside, he was waiting for the news that would decide whether he lived… or merely existed.

-------

The red light above the Operation Theatre continued to glow.
Relentless.
Unforgiving.

Aarib hadn’t moved from his place on the floor. His back rested against the cold wall, his elbows on his knees, his blood-stained hands hanging lifelessly between them. The corridor smelled of antiseptic and fear.

Every time the OT doors made the slightest sound, his head snapped up.Footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Fast. Urgent.

“Aarib!”

He looked up.

Hikmat was striding toward him, breath uneven, eyes scanning frantically. The moment he saw the blood on Aarib’s clothes, he stopped.
For a second, he just stared.

“Ya Allah…” he whispered.
Hikmat rushed forward and crouched in front of him. “Are you hurt?”

Aarib shook his head faintly.
“It’s her blood.”

The words came out hollow.
Hikmat swallowed hard and sat beside him. “What did the doctors say?”

“She lost a lot of blood.” Aarib’s gaze remained fixed on the OT doors. “The surgery is still going on.”

Hikmat ran a hand over his face, trying to steady himself. “She’ll be fine. InshaAllah. She’s strong.”

A nurse stepped out of the OT doors suddenly.
Both men stood up instantly.

“How is she?” Aarib asked, stepping forward before Hikmat could speak.

“Her blood pressure dropped during preparation and she has lost a lot of blood.,” the nurse said quickly. “We need O negative blood urgently.”

Aarib froze.
O negative.
Universal donor.
Rare.

“I....I don’t know,” he stammered.

“We’re checking the blood bank, but it may take time.”

“I’m O negative,” Hikmat spoke immediately.
The nurse looked at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”
“Come with me.”

Without hesitation, Hikmat followed her down the corridor.Aarib stood there again. Alone.
The weight of helplessness pressed against his chest so heavily he felt like he might suffocate.
Minutes passed.
Or hours.

Time had lost meaning.
He walked toward the small window beside the OT and placed his palm against the glass.

“Roshaane…” his voice was barely audible.

His mind replayed her smile when she saw him outside the mall.The way her face lit up.
The way she had said Seni seviyorum without hesitation.
And he....
He had never said it back.

His chest constricted painfully.
“If you come back…” he whispered, tears slipping down quietly now, “I swear I’ll never make you feel unloved again.”

The OT doors opened again.
This time....The doctor stepped out.Mask lowered and with serious expression.Aarib’s heart slammed against his ribs.

“How is she?” His voice was hoarse, fragile.
The doctor looked at him carefully.

“She’s still in surgery.”

Aarib’s stomach dropped.

“But…” the doctor continued, “the bleeding has been controlled. The next twenty-four hours will be crucial. If she responds well… she’ll make it.”

She’ll make it.
The words hit him like air after drowning.

He closed his eyes for a second.
Relief didn’t come fully.

Because she was still inside.
Still fighting.
But hope....

Hope had entered the corridor.And for the first time since the accident,  Aarib allowed himself to breathe.

-------

The red light above the Operation Theatre refused to turn off.Aarib stood beneath it like a man awaiting judgment.

His shirt had stiffened with dried blood. Roshaane’s blood. It marked his collar, his sleeves, even the edge of his jaw where he had pressed his face against her hair while carrying her in.

Hikmat had returned after donating blood, his arm wrapped in white gauze. He stood quietly beside Aarib, not speaking unless necessary. The silence between them wasn’t empty, it was heavy.
After what felt like endless hours, the OT doors finally opened.

Aarib straightened instantly.

"The surgery was successful.  Due to serious condition, she might take some time to gain consciousness." Doctor said.

“When can I see her?”

“After she’s moved to ICU. Only one person at a time.”

The stretcher rolled out moments later.

Aarib’s breath caught.
Her head was bandaged, a strip of white wrapped around her forehead. There were faint bruises along her cheek. An oxygen mask covered her face. Her right arm was secured in a cast and sling, supported carefully against her body.
She looked small.

Fragile.

Not like the stubborn, smiling girl who had run toward him outside the mall. His chest tightened painfully. Without realizing, he stepped closer to the stretcher as it moved past him, his fingers brushing the edge of the sheet near her uninjured hand.

“I’m here,” he whispered, though she could not hear him.

An hour later, more footsteps filled the corridor.
Zainab arrived with her parents and younger brother, faces pale with fear. The moment she saw Aarib’s blood-stained clothes, her eyes filled.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice shaking.
Aarib tried to answer, but the memory choked him.

“She got hit by the car,” Hikmat explained gently. “It happened suddenly.”

Zainab’s mother covered her mouth, whispering prayers under her breath.

Zainab stepped closer to Aarib. “She’ll be fine,” she said firmly, though tears slid down her cheeks. “She has to be.”

Aarib nodded, but he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince, her or himself. Later that night, when he was finally allowed into the ICU, he walked in slowly.

Machines hummed softly. The monitor beeped at steady intervals. Roshaane lay there, pale against the white sheets. Her head bandaged. Her right arm in a cast. IV lines attached to her hand.

For a moment, Aarib couldn’t move.
This was the girl who laughed too loudly. Who argued without fear. Who told him she loved him without hesitation.

And now she lay still.
He pulled a chair closer and sat beside her.
Carefully, almost hesitantly, he took her left hand in his.

It felt warm.
Alive.

His thumb brushed gently over her knuckles.
“You’re not allowed to leave like this,” he murmured, his voice low and unsteady. “You still have to me crazy for you… remember?”

His eyes burned again.

He didn’t understand what this tightness in his chest was.He only knew that the thought of losing her felt unbearable. The world outside this room suddenly felt empty without her noise in it.
He leaned forward, resting his forehead lightly against the edge of the bed.

“Wake up,” he whispered, almost like a prayer. “Please.”

He wasn’t calling it love.
He didn’t recognize it yet.
He only knew he was terrified.

And that every beat of her heart on that monitor felt tied to his own.

​A/N: Assalam-o-Alaikum, readers!

​How are you all doing? I’m back with another update! I’m slowly making you fall in love with this story, aren’t I?

​I truly hope you enjoyed this chapter. The next one will be up tomorrow!

​I need your help with something: As you know, I’ve been planning to write Sameer and Shazam’s story. However, I’ve hit a bit of a writer's block. I’ve actually forgotten some of the original plot points I had in mind for Sameer while writing his scenes in Our Arranged Marriage.

​Since you guys see the characters from a fresh perspective, drop your suggestions below! Based on the scenes you’ve read so far, what kind of journey do you imagine for him? Your ideas will help me bring his story to life.

​Take care and stay tuned!

​With love,
Your Author