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[XX]

"I am taking my wife with me," he announced, making everyone look at him with shocked faces.

Imran poured himself another glass of cold water, drinking to calm the rage that surged within him. He couldn't believe no one had done anything or called for help. Realizing there were no security measures in the house, and they were staying alone without anyone to protect them, his anger simmered.

"Who is staying with you all here?" Imran asked. Hajje Amne stepped forward.

"It's me," she answered, her eyes tense.

Imran sat down on the sofa, nodding and greeting her politely before speaking. "There's no security?"

"It's a public holiday, no one is around today," Hajje Amne answered.

He didn't respond immediately, drinking the rest of the water in his cup. "Aunty, the kids will have to follow me. It's not safe for anyone here, not even you. Everyone can come. I'll prepare a place for you until they come back from their trip."

"But—" Hajje Amne started.

"Please," he pleaded, closing his eyes. He was trying to be respectful, still struggling to control his rage. He had decided, and that was it.

Hajje Amne kept quiet, unable to utter another word.

"Ameerah, come," he called. She moved quickly to his side.

"Pack a bag for her. She'll need it for the night. I'll leave with her now... Ibrahim will come and pick you all later. Pack your things and the rest of her belongings before he comes," he instructed. Ameerah nodded in understanding, but her eyes widened.

"Everything?" she asked again.

"Everything," he repeated, his tone brooking no argument. Ameerah dragged her feet to the stairs.

"You all should pack for a few days too," he said, drinking more water.

"She's a bride. We have a lot we are doing here, like her Gyaran Jiki and other things. You can't leave with her," Hajje Amne reasoned.

"There's no need for it. Thank you very much. May Allah reward you for it, but we will leave for now," he said, grabbing Jadwa's hand and leading her out to his car.

Jadwa's bruised hand rested carefully in his. She was too afraid to argue or even process his words fully. All she cared about was getting some air and leaving the space.

"Ya Imran," she called, her voice raspy from crying and screaming earlier.

His head turned quickly in her direction, his eyes focused on her. She almost wished she could disappear from the misery and embarrassment she felt.

"Naam," he responded gently.

"I need to use the bathroom," she said, looking at him with her doe eyes. She felt nauseous, and it was becoming suffocating.

"Okay, I'll wait for you in the car," he said, rubbing his thumb twice on the back of her hand before letting go.

Jadwa bobbed her head in a jerky nod, then bolted back into the house. Her steps hammered on the stairs as she ascended, her breath catching in her throat with each hurried step. Reaching the guest bathroom opposite her room, she practically threw herself through the doorway. There was a violent lurch to her movements as she doubled over the toilet, her empty stomach as she threw up a meager amount of watery liquid. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision, each shuddering breath a painful hitch in her chest.
Just then, the bathroom door creaked open, revealing Hajje Amne hurrying in. Her face, etched with concern, softened even further as she took in the sight of her. Gentle hands, cool and comforting, soothed Jadwa's back as hushed murmurs, laced with worry, filled the air. Hajje Hilu and her sister soon joined them, their worried whispers adding to the low hum of voices in the cramped space.

When the initial wave of nausea subsided, Hajje Hilu helped Jadwa wash her face. The cool water was a small comfort against the burning prick of tears on her cheeks. Back in her room, Jadwa brushed her teeth, the fresh taste a feeble distraction from the turmoil within her. Across the room, Ameerah zipped up a small suitcase, her red-rimmed eyes holding a silent apology that spoke volumes. Jadwa couldn't bear to stay a second longer. The dam of her emotions threatened to burst, so she walked out, shutting her emotions off. The hushed voices of her sisters fading behind her like a receding tide. Hajje Amne's voice trailed behind her, her words melting into the background noise as Jadwa's mind retreated into a numb silence. She felt numb, detached from her surroundings, her world shrunk to the rhythm of her own shallow breaths.
Hajje Amne's words were a distant hum as Jadwa walked in a daze, following Zarah and Ameerah out of the house.

Before she realized it, they had reached the car. Muhammad Imran emerged from the driver's side, his eyes lingering on Jadwa for a moment before he collected the luggage and opened the door for her. Jadwa climbed in carefully, her gaze fixed on the driveway stretching before them.
The silence in the car was suffocating. She stole a glance at Imran, his face grim as he ended a call. He pulled out of the driveway, and Jadwa leaned her head against the window, the familiar sights of her neighborhood blurring into streaks of color.
Was this how she'd leave her home? But was it really a home if it held so many painful memories? A place where she constantly felt like she was walking on eggshells when outsiders painted as family were around? A place where even family could turn into a source of pain?

Lost in thought, twenty minutes later Jadwa still staring out the window as the quiet streets gave way to a large driveway gate. Two sprawling mansions loomed ahead, separated by a cascading water fountain that shimmered in the afternoon sun. Their grandeur was a lot more and different from the modest mansion she had grown up in.

Imran parked the car in a spacious garage and came around to open her door. He took her suitcase and walked towards one of the houses. They didn't use the main entrance but entered through a separate building, seemingly an extension of the larger house.
He put a hand on her shoulders. "Jadwa, this is my parents' house, our family house," he said, his fingers caressing her shoulders.

She nodded, and he gave her a small smile, leading her to one of the houses. They didn't use the main door but went to another separate building, half the size of the large ones, clearly an expansion of the larger one.

She stood quietly as he entered a code in the door and went in, placing her suitcase aside before turning to her. "Come in," he said, and she did, saying a Salam in an almost inaudible tone. Jadwa said a silent dua and followed him.

"Come in," he said, his voice gentle. Jadwa stepped inside, offering she quietly stepped in saying her Salam, and silently saying a dua before fully entering. Her eyes darted around the unfamiliar space, taking in the modern décor before flitting back down to the plush carpet beneath her feet.

[XXI]

An ache throbbed in her ankle, a dull reminder of her earlier escape. She stifled a whimper, her gaze glued to the floor as Imran led her up the stairs. They reached a large living room, but Jadwa refused to let her eyes wander. Her focus remained fixed on the patterned carpet beneath her feet.
A soft, melodic voice filled the air, cutting through the tense silence. Jadwa recognized the voice instantly, it was Sadiq's wife, Fatima

"Assalamu Alaikum," Jadwa turned to see Fatima, his brother's wife.

"Wa Alaikumus Salam," Jadwa responded, putting a hand on her throat to soothe the pain.

Fatima gave her a small hug before releasing her, engaging in small talk. Jadwa noticed she wore a lab coat over her dress and veil.

"I'm going to examine you now. Would you feel more comfortable in a room?" she asked, her expression calm and reassuring.

"It's okay here," Jadwa said, glancing at the door where Imran gave her a reassuring smile, though his eyes were tense.

Fatima nodded empathetically, noting the bruising on Jadwa's palm and neck. "Can you tell me how this happened?"

Jadwa shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Fatima's gaze, meeting Imran's. He nodded, urging her to speak. "Someone put his hands on me," she murmured, her voice trembling.

Fatima gently rested her hand on Jadwa's arm. "You're safe here. You don't need to be shy about telling me anything. I'm just going to treat you. Can you tell me what they did?"
She heard his footsteps descending the stairs, she heard him leave the room to just her and Fatima.

Tears welled up in Jadwa's eyes as she nodded. "My cousin... he hit me with a belt, slapped, and kicked me," she admitted, her voice breaking.

Fatima listened attentively, filled with compassion and concern. "Thank you for trusting me. I'm here to help you, okay? We'll take care of you."

Jadwa nodded, relief palpable as she leaned into Fatima's support. Fatima reassured her, guiding her through a detailed examination while cleaning her injuries. "Make sure you take all the medication I send here."

Fatima explained each step to Jadwa, ensuring she felt informed and in control. "Don't worry, water will go through them. You can take a shower to relax and relieve the body pain before I send the painkillers. The bruises will go away in a week or two" Jadwa nodded.

Throughout, Fatima's demeanor remained gentle, providing Jadwa comfort and confidence. Before leaving, Fatima handed Jadwa her phone to put in her number and Jadwa did. She dialled it and saved the number. "Don't hesitate to tell me if you need anything."

Jadwa nodded gratefully, her eyes reflecting gratitude. "Thank you so much."

Fatima left, leaving Jadwa to calm down. She tapped her phone to check the time and noticed dried blood on it. Jadwa quickly pulled her hands away, remembering everything. Her breath hitched, her breathing fast but silent, chaotic only in her mind.

"Baby" he spoke, but she was in her own world her eyes fully zoned out.

"Jadwa," he called softly yet urgently, and she blinked, seeing him kneeling before her as he grasped her hand.

"Should we go to the hospital?" He asked, his gaze darting around as he saw her struggle to breathe. One look and he knew something was terribly wrong; panic clawed at her.

"Jadwa," he called softly, cupping her face with his palms, forcing their eyes to meet. That's when Jadwa squeezed her eyes shut, terrified to meet his gaze. She was mortified, humiliated that he'd seen her so vulnerable. Her hands trembled violently as the horrifying scene replayed in her mind.

Muhammad Imran read the raw fear etched on her face and pulled her close and her complete body on to his kenneling one. Jadwa crumpled into his embrace, trying to swallow another painful lump in her throat but failed woefully. Her entire body wracked with sobs she could no longer contain. A choked sob escaped her throat, and she clung to his shirt, another wracking sob following.

Each tear that escaped her eyes carried a lifetime of pain, a testament to the deep wounds in her soul. Imran held her gently, his touch a comfort in the storm.
Her breaths hitched in ragged gasps, each one a desperate fight against the tide of memories threatening to drown her. Imran could feel the tremors coursing through her, the weight of her past pressing down like a suffocating shroud.
As she buried her face against his chest, Imran felt the dampness of her tears soaking through his shirt. He cradled her head tenderly, his fingers weaving through her hair as he whispered silent duas in her ears and she repeated after him quietly.

In the hushed stillness, the world outside faded away, leaving only the echo of her shattering sobs and the steady rhythm of Imran's heartbeat, a soothing counterpoint to the chaos within her.
They remained locked in that embrace, time dissolving around them, until finally, the tempest inside her began to wane. Her cries softened to quiet sniffles, her body relaxing against him, finding solace in the warmth of his embrace.

Imran held her through it all, his own heart heavy with the burden of her suffering and the most wrenching regret of his loss of control. He silently vowed to be her sanctuary, her safe harbor, where the scars of her past could find solace in the tenderness of his touch and the unwavering strength of his presence.

And as her sobs subsided, he held both her trembling hands in his and kissed them gently. With Jadwa's breathing gradually evening out, Imran held her close, his heart overflowing with a love that promised to be a powerful shield against the shadows of her past, a beacon of light to banish the darkness that had haunted her for far too long.

He silently picked her up and moved into another room. Jadwa chuckled painfully and tried to speak, her voice slightly raspier than earlier but not as bad as she thought.

"I can walk," she said, trying to get out of his hold, but he continued until he set her on a bed.

Jadwa looked around before looking up at him. "This is your room?" she almost gasped, and he shook his head.

"It is," he said simply, giving her a smile.

Jadwa looked around again, taking in the minimalistic design of the room. It was incredibly simple, modern, and beautiful.

She kept looking around, taking in everything silently before he grabbed her attention.

"I am going to take a shower. Are you good here?" he asked, and she nodded absentmindedly before fully understanding his words.

Before she could respond, he had already opened the door at the other end of the room, which led to the bathroom.

She sighed, leaning back on the bed and bringing her knees to her chest. She rested her head on her arms and closed her eyes, not sleeping but resting her eyes to get rid of the surging headache. Her mind went straight to her cousin. She shivered as she remembered how he lay there.

Was he alive? Was he okay? Her brain brushed through all the possible negative things that could happen in the next twenty minutes until she heard the water stop running. She quickly lay down on the bed completely, turning to the side and feigning sleep.

Imran walked out, the masculine yet pleasant smell of his body wash or soap engulfing her, but she stayed true to her act.

Imran saw her lying in the most uncomfortable way. He stood for a moment, cleaning his upper body with the towel in his hands, before staring at her intently and taking two steps forward. He stopped, noticing her body tense up when he moved.

His smile quickly turned into a frown when he saw her finger slightly shaking. He remembered how terrified she looked, the fear in her eyes regardless of how she held him earlier and how he had beaten that boy in front of her.

He had sworn she stayed back in the room when he told her to, not knowing that her uncle had dragged her with them. She shouldn't have seen that side of him come out, and most importantly, he himself shouldn't have let himself ever see it again.

He walked the disappointment away with heavy footsteps, He trudged away, his heavy steps echoing in the room. He shoved open the closet door, rummaging through clothes until he pulled out a simple jallabiya. A glance at the clock confirmed his lateness for prayer. Going straight to his closet and dressing quietly. He didn't know if Salim was going to make it or not, if they lost him on the way to the hospital. Honestly, he didn't care about him. He deserved it; he asked for it. He could only care less except for the fact that it could cost him the relationship he had with Jadwa, and he couldn't lose his family again. He couldn't stay far again.

Back in the room, he unfurled a prayer rug on the floor for her. He picked up her box he'd left outside, bringing it into the room and placing it beside the bed, he studied his wife's form.

For how long was she going to keep this act? he thought but played along. He was coming back, and she wasn't going to fake sleep forever. If she wanted to be away from him, he'd let her be for now because that's all he could do.

"Jadwa, it's past zuhur. Get up and pray," he said simply, but she didn't budge. She woke up at a single call every time they slept on the phone. What a terrible actress he got as a wife.

Was her sleep truly this deep, or was it a performance? A cynical scoff escaped his lips.
"Also, Fatima dropped your medicine. I'll keep it here. Have some hot tea and eat your food. Take it before you sleep. I really need to head out," he explained, hoping she'd break out of it, but she didn't.

He had a mountain of problems to deal with, and a tangled web of his own making to unravel. A wave of self-loathing washed over him. He hated the loss of control, resulting in actions that threatened his entire world.
Longing gnawed at him. He yearned to stay, to confess, to bridge the chasm that had opened between them. But duty called, and with a heavy heart, he turned and left. He had a lot to deal with, a lot to settle, a lot to cover, and a lot to fix because of his actions, and also a lot of prayers for whom he felt the most hatred for in the moment , because him living is what might cost him a lot. Had he not had all that, he'd have stayed back all day and cheered his wife up and opened up. She deserved to know the truth and who he was.

Immediately he got out of the room and shut the door behind him. Jadwa waited until she couldn't hear his footsteps anymore and the sound of his car driving off before she sat up.

"Oh my God! Alhamdulillah he didn't catch me," she whispered, putting her hand on her hammering chest. This felt harder than looking him in the eye when she was embarrassed, but she gave herself a pat on the back. A little smile graced her lips at her successful act.

She lifted herself up, noticing he kept her phone on the bedside but the bloodstain was nowhere to be found. It was squeaky clean.

She got up, pouring herself a glass of water from the jug and tray of so many drinks and snacks Fatima must have sent up.

She drank the water, soothing her throat, before getting down and opening her suitcase.

She was met with the instant hit of her favorite bakhoor she used to smoke her clothes.

The girls had really just packed all the clothes she had kept on her 'kabbasa/Gaffas' She always had a thing where she brought out her outfits for the whole week and smoked them with incense, and they had just done that. They packed her a toilet bag along with her underwear.

Jadwa looked closely and picked out something decent, which was a slightly loose maxi skirt and a baby pink oversized sweatshirt along with a veil.

She went in and performed ablution first, noticing the gigantic bathroom and its minimalist design. It was hard to hit the nail with minimalism, but everything here really looked in place and beautifully done.

She picked out another hijab from her suitcase before folding the other one and putting it away.

She prayed, cried, and sat in the room. She picked her phone to call her sisters, but her phone went off because the battery was already at one percent.

Jadwa sat on the floor and laid her head on the floor. She just couldn't start looking around for a charger.

She didn't even look twice at the beautiful four large food warmers kept for her. She couldn't eat and wouldn't even try it.

She was scared to be here. She had too many questions but didn't have the guts to ask.

Her mind was etched with worry. Was he going to be arrested? Was Salim okay? Did anything happen and Ibrahim... Ibrahim, was he going to do the same to her uncle or worse?

A tear slipped down her eyes from the anxiety that rushed through her. She drank another cup of water and sat there.

Hours passed by, and the sound of the door opening or footsteps she wanted to hear was nowhere to be found. The sky had turned dark long ago, and her fear and nervousness were only getting worse.

Was he okay? Something bad must have happened. She had a sick feeling in her stomach but her body was glued to the same position. Asr passed, Maghrib passed, and now the digital clock on the bedside showed it was past Isha.

At this point, Jadwa couldn't function. She was a mess. Her heart was racing, and anxiety clawed at her. She kept praying for Salim's life and for her husband to be back safe. She didn't know, but as much as there was a horrible anxiety eating her up, she was still utterly worried for her husband. He did it for her. He wasn't that person. She had never heard or seen him like that.

[XXII]

IBRAHIM BUKAR.

Ibrahim was sat on the wooden chair situated at the balcony of his house, he was still in his dressed in his uniform, his face cap shielding him from the scorching sun. He opened a new box of his grande's cigars and picked out one before lighting it.
His heart was empty but that wasn't the same with his mind, he remembered the words that had come out of the mouth of the man in front of him, he closed his eyes taking a long inhale of the smoke before exhaling through his nose.
He lifted his head up closing his eyes momentarily, the glowing end of his cigarette punctuating the brightness of the sun. As he inhaled deeply again, tendrils of smoke swirled around him, momentarily obscuring his view of the man kneeling and pleading until he got tired for the past two hours.

In his mind, however, there was no obscurity. Memories, sharp and unrelenting, flooded his thoughts. The Faces of people he had wronged, choices he had made all flashed before him like fragments of a fractured mirror. Each exhale seemed to release not just smoke, but a wave of conflicting emotions: regret, guilt, and a hint of defiance.
The calmness of Ibrahim's outward demeanor belied the turmoil within. His hands, steady as they held the cigarette, had once wielded power that dictated fates. Yet, those same hands had left scars that time couldn't erase. His gaze wandered to the scars on his knuckles, visible in bright sunlight, reminders of a life he couldn't forget.

The afternoon air carried echoes of sirens in the distance, a sound that resonated with memories of evading consequences. How many lives had he disrupted, he wondered. How many lives had he irreversibly altered?

Meanwhile, It was hard for Nura to speak any more than he had with burnt lips, but he knew better than not to speak, he had been kneeling in the same position for over two hours begging and pleading with Ibrahim, he thought he was going to hit him but the past two hours were way more scarier than a beating of a soldier. It was way more scarier than lava being poured on him or going to a Military prison.

Nura knelt before Ibrahim, his breaths shallow and uneven, his hands trembling visibly despite his efforts to keep them still. Sweat glistened on his forehead, reflecting the hot sun. He dared not raise his eyes to meet Ibrahim's gaze, the silence between them heavy and suffocating.

Ibrahim sat across from him, his expression unreadable. His hands rested calmly on his knees, his posture relaxed yet commanding. There was no single sound on the balcony he was dragged into accentuating the tense stillness that hung in the air.

Hours stretched into an eternity as the man waited, unsure of what would come next. He had heard stories of Ibrahim's ruthlessness, of the swift justice he delivered to those who crossed him. But now, in this moment of stark vulnerability, Ibrahim's silence was more terrifying than any threat or violence, he'd rather have Ibrahim's gun to his head and have himself pull the trigger than sit under Ibrahim's gaze.

Nura's mind raced with a torrent of thoughts – It was like the man before him was not human or didn't have any human emotions, he was gone, Ibrahim lived in another world and he was just breathing the same air as others. Even the strongest of men couldn't breathe normally in his presence.

Regrets for the decisions of dragging his nephew who might be dead or alive to deal with his niece had led him to this point, fears of what Ibrahim might decide, and a desperate plea for forgiveness that he couldn't voice aloud anymore. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out everything except the haunting silence that enveloped them both.

"Do you think a person gets to dictate his own fate?" Ibrahim's deep voice asked Nura burning his cigar.

Ibrahim finally broke the silence, his voice calm and measured. "Look at me when I speak"

Nura hesitated for a brief moment, then slowly lifted his gaze.
Ibrahim truly cut an imposing figure. Towering over most with his powerful build, his very deep skin complexion gleamed under the sunlight, showcasing the defined muscles honed through years of military service. A broadsword scar traced a jagged line across his left bicep, a silent testament to his past battles. His square jaw and high cheekbones framed a face that could shift from stern to terrifying in an instant. Piercing, deep-set eyes seemed to hold untold stories, while his low, gravelly voice carried an unspoken promise of strength and authority. Despite his undeniable handsomeness, there was an aura of enigma about him, hinting at a complex personality beneath the surface.

Nura's eyes met his and In that moment, he saw no anger, no malice. Instead, there was a depth of Insanity that sent a shiver down his spine.

"You know what you've done," Ibrahim said softly, his tone carrying a weight that resonated through the room. "You understand the consequences."

Nura nodded, his throat dry as he struggled to find words that could adequately convey his remorse. "I... I'm sorry," he managed to whisper, the words barely audible.

Ibrahim continued to study him, his expression unchanged. Then, without a word, he stood up and walked towards the railings. Nura remained kneeling, unsure if he should follow or stay put. The silence returned, thickening the air once more.

After what felt like an eternity, Ibrahim turned back to him. "Leave, and thank your Lord that you were destined to be her uncle, it's the biggest luck of your lifetime" he said quietly, his voice carrying a finality.

Relief flooded through the man, overwhelming his senses. He quickly got to his feet, stumbling slightly in his haste to obey. Without another word, he hurried out of the room, the weight of Ibrahim's silent judgment and words lingering on his shoulders like an invisible burden.

Ibrahim returned to his seat and resumed his calm demeanor. His thoughts, however, were far from settled. The encounter had stirred memories of his own past, of moments where mercy had been a rare commodity.
The cigarette burned down to its filter, but Ibrahim remained lost in his thoughts. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to shut out the memories that clawed at him relentlessly.
A distant voice from the living room inside broke his reverie, calling him back to the present. With a sigh, Ibrahim flicked the cigarette butt on his ash tray and turned back towards the voice of Muhammad Imran.

Before Imran spoke Ibrahim gave him a smile which made him let out a breath he was holding. "He is alive and well. He got stitched but he'll be admitted for a while, we settled the whole matter and even his uncle agreed with the settlement before we got here" Ibrahim spoke.

Imran released a breath he didn't know he was holding before Ibrahim told him all the details, all that happened at the hospital and how they got to settle it.

"You should be a better man than I am" Ibrahim said taking off his cap and putting it backwards.

"Ibrahim, bro" Muhammad ran a hand through his face.

"Muhammad Don't ever try that, not even by mistake! Even if your head was situated between an oak wood and an axe" Ibrahim said his voice heavy with emotion.

Muhammad Imran sat there, silent and quiet, knowing it wasn't the time for arguing with Ibrahim.  He had explained all the insults Nura and Salim rained on his parents, how they tried to push him to the wall and how they peeled off a healing scab from his wound and what they had done to Jadwa at the house. Yet, he knew better than anyone what taking a human soul, even rightfully, does to a person.

Ibrahim lectured him for hours, up until Maghrib, and also lectured him about Jadwa. "I understand how frustrating it is, but if she is scared and wants to go back home, let her go. I'll send security to the house; don't bother the poor girl," Ibrahim warned, making Imran laugh.

"You've done a lot for us already," Muhammad Imran said, earning a disgusted look from Ibrahim.

"I'll call you if there's anything," Imran said raising his hands in surrender as they walked to the mosque.

When they finished praying Imran followed him back to the house and they had their light hearted banter before Ibrahim spoke.

"Moh, please leave my house. This is your wife's first day at your house and you are still here," Ibrahim pushed Imran back from entering the door to his house.

Imran gave him a mock salute and laughed, moving to his car. How his friend had dealt with this smoothly was beyond his comprehension, but he just knew there was a lot Ibrahim had to do, though he hid it from him—typical of Ibrahim.

[XXIII]

He drove silently to the house, going straight to check up on her sisters first. Sadiq and Fatima had welcomed them warmly, and he found them having dinner.

They all greeted him in chorus, and he responded, tapping his sister's head gently and mouthing her a thank you. Anaya nodded with a smile, and Zara looked up at him with a playful, betrayed face.

He chuckled, stretching his hand for a fist bump. She smiled widely and continued with her meal.

"If you need anything, please don't hesitate to tell them. I'll leave now," he announced.

"Ya Moh, we kept the dinner and other medications in your kitchen. When I went, it was too quiet; she must have been asleep," Fatima spoke.

"Thank you so much, Fatima," he gave her an appreciative smile.

They all thanked him after, but Zarah spoke, cutting the thick anticipation and unspoken questions in the room.

"Ya Imran, where is Jadu?" she asked, her voice polite but still earning a painful pinch from Hanan under the table, making her wince.

"Zarah, don't worry about her. She's sleeping. She needs some rest. I'll bring her up here tomorrow," he smiled weakly at her and bid them goodnight before using the connected tunnel at the last floor of the house that led to his part of the house.

Immediately he walked in, he made his way to his room. He found her sitting on her carpet, knees to her chest, her neck springing to meet his view as she got up immediately, breathing "Alhamdulillah" under her breath.

He gave her a weak smile, moving to her side. He examined her face, then his eyes went to the tray in front of him. The untouched drinks, snacks, sweets, and chocolates, along with the neat plates, clearly indicated she hadn't eaten anything. Even worse, the medication stared back at him.

He looked up at her in disbelief, and she took a step back as if she was scared he'd do something to her. Imran sighed, moving away.

"Follow me," he said, grabbing the huge tray. Jadwa picked up the tray with the drinks and sweets and followed him.

He didn't say anything as she just followed him into the kitchen. She stood there as he served a single plate, but mid-way through putting the rice, he stopped and looked away, grabbing another plate.

The aroma of the food engulfed her; it was still hot. She could tell it was Thai fried rice and chicken. She was truly hungry but waited for him as he served the inviting drink from the jug.

He handed her a cup, and she took a sip immediately. The blueberry lemonade was too good. He put the cutlery on her plate, and she quietly cut a little piece of the chicken and put it in her mouth.

"You were starving yourself when you had food in front of you," he scolded gently, grabbing the plate away from her hand and leading her to the living room downstairs. It was too bright for her liking, and she was glad he turned off the big lights and left the small ones.

She quietly sat down and started eating when he dropped the plate in front of her. She devoured her meal silently, taking sips from her drink. She didn't feel his eyes on her either. She looked up at him, staring and waiting for him to notice.

"He didn't die. He is alive and well," Imran answered what he thought her silent question was, and Jadwa released a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Okay," she said silently.

"Just okay?" he asked, and she nodded, keeping the plate away.

"You should finish eating," he said, and she shook her head.

"I am full. You put too much on my plate," she said honestly, and he simply let her be.

He gulped down the rest of his drink and got up, taking both hers and his, and headed to the kitchen.

Jadwa stood up, following him. She watched as he put the plates away and poured himself another drink.

He turned to her, and she shifted backwards. He quietly poured her another cup, and she took a few sips before leaving it and following him to the fridge.

He took out a bottle of water, uncapped it, and handed it to her along with the medications. She took them absentmindedly and swallowed them with the water.

He opened another bottle and drank it before trashing it. She followed him, trailing behind.

He picked his phone from the counter at the other end of the kitchen before moving back to the other side, and she was still trailing behind. He did that just to see how far she'll go with this.

He finally turned back to her, looking at her frightened demeanor. "I don't know if you are scared and terrified of me or you want to cling to me," he said, and Jadwa looked down, embarrassed, making him sigh.

She was scared of staying alone, especially in an empty house. It took her several years to get used to sleeping alone in her room and this, it terrified her.
He too, terrified her but at least she knew he wouldn't put his hands on her.

"Ya Imran," she started, trying to explain but he shut her up by lifting her up and sitting her down on the counter.

She didn't say anything, although what he did just made her stomach flip and sink in the most ridiculously fearful yet buttery way.

"You won't talk to me?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Why?" he asked again, lifting her chin and taking away her veil, keeping it to the side before he started examining the scratch on her jaw and the hand marks on her neck.

He noticed they had visibly gone lighter than how they were earlier when they arrived.

She quietly gulped and sat still as he checked her wounds. Now he had shifted back and grabbed both of her legs. He dropped the left one, which wasn't injured, and caressed the band-aid on the right.

"This isn't disturbing you?" he asked, his hands going over her slightly heavy anklets, and she shook her head.

He caressed it one more time, checking for other wounds, before he remembered what Fatima had told him he moved away to grab an ointment while caressing her palms and tracing her henna as if he were studying the designs. "maybe we should have a conversation in the morning, I don't like how scared you are" he said, not wanting this moment to end, not wanting it to be snatched away by his past. She smiled weakly at him. He wanted to have this, at least this moment, before it ceased from his grasp.

"Okay," she said, her raspy voice a soothing effect on his heart.

Her gaze lingered on his face. She took her time while she was at it, each crease and furrow a map to his emotions. Her eyes, usually sparkling with nervous energy, softened as they explored his. What thoughts were behind them? An unreadable mystery, yet strangely comforting. In his presence, her anxiety dissolved like smoke, leaving behind a calmness she couldn't explain.
She stared and stared again, as if looking at him would answer every question her mind, body, and heart asked, as if she were trying to unravel a mystery.

"Stop looking at me like that. I am angry right now," he spoke, taking her out of her trance.

"Like what?" she replied, keeping her eyes on his.

He kept quiet for a moment, thinking carefully before he spoke his heart out.

"Like someone you could actually love." He said, staring back into her eyes, his gaze raw with truth.

He studied her face, his eyes tracing the bruises and cuts when she didn't speak. He looked away, he wasn't expecting her to respond. So gently, he cleaned the wound on her jawline, his touch tender despite the tension between them. He looked back at her for a long moment, his expression softening when he realized she wasn't looking away.

"I actually can," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I want to try. I don't know if all I feel is just an attraction, but we can try and make it work." She put her hands around his neck, her fingers brushing against the nape of his neck as she pushed his shoulder down gently to reach his face. She placed a soft peck on the corner of his lips before laying her head on his chest, her hands sliding around his broad back. She sought comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, her breath mingling with his.

Imran stood there a bit surprised by her words before his arm wrapping around her, bringing her closer to him and holding her tight to his chest.

"We can, we will," he reassured. "In Sha Allah," he breathed in her ear before kissing her temple and running his hands through her beautiful braids.

Jadwa smiled into his chest, letting her heart lead and speak for her tonight. He let go of her before taking a step back, giving her a small smile.

"You should sleep now," he said, and her face fell.

"Are you leaving now?" she asked, her voice low and filled with the fear she had earlier.

"I'll just stay down here; you should go up and sleep," he said, and she shook her head as if it were the end of the world.

"Your room is big and spooky," she said, making him look at her with confusion before stifling a laugh.

Imran moved forward, picking her up from the counter, making her legs wrap around his waist.

"Are you going to your room?" she asked, her tone raising slightly.

Imran threw his head back, laughing, his chest vibrating as he moved to the living room. He stopped for a moment, laughing to his heart's content. "No, I am not. Should we wash this brain of yours?" he asked, and Jadwa gasped shutting her eyes tightly.

She had lost count of how many times she had embarrassed herself today. She couldn't help but join in; his laughter was contagious. She buried her head deep in the crook of his neck when he turned off all the lights, leaving a little lamp at the end of the hallway.

He sat down on the large sofa in the living room, expanding it while she was still on his body before leaning back and stretching his legs. He moved her to lay comfortably on his body, and she did, his hands rubbing her back. His eyes stared at her face for as long as he could before sleep finally enveloped her.

He said his night Adhkar and said it over her too before his eyes focused back on her, holding her closer and tighter to his chest. His dream come true. This almost felt unreal.

The gentle rise and fall of Jadwa's breath lulled Imran into a state of contented bliss. He glance at her face, the soft dim lighting casting an ethereal glow on her features. In that moment, surrounded by the quiet of the night, she seemed even more perfect than the dreams he'd harbored for so long. Every glance, every chance encounter, had culminated in this – Jadwa, safe and asleep in his arms. A feeling of deep satisfaction washed over him, a sense of completeness that transcended words. He didn't need grand gestures or passionate declarations; the quiet intimacy of the moment spoke volumes. He simply held her close, cherishing the weight of her trust and the words she said earlier into he fell asleep too.

****

The faint rap on the door pulled Imran from his sleep. He carefully lifted his wife's arm from across his chest and placed it by her side. He contemplated waking her, but knowing she'd insist on accompanying him to the mosque at this point, he decided against it. Instead, he crept out of bed and performed his fajr prayer.

After finishing his prayers, Imran hurried back to the room, his pace quickened by the thought of the swiftly passing time. He flung open the door, and the sight that greeted him was a living room bathed in an unexpected, almost blinding, light.
His wife wasn't where he'd left her. A surge of urgency directed him towards the stairs and up to his bedroom room. There, he found her sitting on the prayer mat he'd laid out for her earlier, clad in a beautiful purple jilbab, as if she'd been waiting for him.
Imran could only manage a smile, which she countered with a playful roll of her eyes.

"Did you get scared?" he asked softly, settling down opposite her.

"A little," she admitted, her fingers gently intertwining with his.

"I apologize," he said, surprised by a soft huff escaping her lips.
Apparently, he was capable of apologies after all.

"Hmm," she mumbled playfully.

"I thought you wouldn't wake up until I returned," he confessed, and a genuine smile curved her lips.

"The moment you went downstairs, I woke up. But it wasn't until you left that I became fully aware of my surroundings," she explained, and he instinctively pulled her closer.

"Such a light sleeper," he teased.

"I am," she chuckled.

"But you weren't exactly a light sleeper this afternoon, were you?" he added with a knowing smirk.

It took her a second to register why he folded his arms on his chest smirking at her then Jadwa's eyes widened momentarily, and she attempted to scoot away when he playfully held her back, his deep chuckle rumbling in his sleep-laden voice.

"Seems like I forgot what you for a living," Jadwa said, feigning annoyance as she closed her eyes, secretly enjoying his embrace.

"As my wife, you have complete immunity," he replied amidst his laughter, his voice husky from sleep, sending shivers down Jadwa's spine. "You can do whatever you want"

"Don't take that back," she mumbled, her voice barely a whisper.

When his laughter subsided and a comfortable silence settled between them, Jadwa made a move to get up, but Imran gently pushed her back down.

"We need to talk," he said seriously, his gaze filled with a newfound concern that mirrored itself in Jadwa's heart.

"Yes, we do," she agreed, her voice trembling slightly as she adjusted her jilbab.

She could sense the weight of his upcoming words, a premonition that caused her stomach to churn. Nevertheless, she placed her hand over his, silently offering her support and waiting for him to speak.

"Your uncle wasn't lying," he began, his voice steady. "These hands," he said, unable to look down at the comforting hold her hand had on his. His eyes meeting hers intently, "they've taken a life."