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Not long after, she heard the roar of his car pulling away, the sound rattling through her chest like a thunderclap. She clenched her eyes shut, willing the tears that threatened to escape to stay hidden. Her chest tightened as she fought the flood of emotions building inside her.

For over an hour, she sat on the bed, her head resting against the headboard. Her mind churned as the minutes crawled by. The distant sound of the cleaners going about their work in the living room and her own bedroom was a faint reminder that life moved on, even when her heart felt stuck. The clock told her it was still two hours before noon, but it felt as though time had slowed, trapping her in a swirl of thoughts.

Her mind wandered back to his words, cutting deep and without hesitation. He had asked her if she'd intercede for him when he stood with his parents before Allah. The weight of that question hung heavy in the air between them, lingering long after he'd spoken it.

She drew in a shaky breath, mentally scolding herself for raising her voice at him. She hated the way his words were so sharp, so blunt, yet delivered with a calm that made her feel as though nothing she said mattered. Still, she knew raising her voice hadn't helped. The bitter truth gnawed at her—maybe it wasn't even her place to speak if he hadn't brought it up first.

As anger, frustration, and guilt began to take their toll, she reached for her phone, desperate for a distraction. She called Hanan, chatting for an hour, then dialed Ammi to greet her. Still, the unrest in her heart remained. She sent a message to her dad, and called her friends, including Zarah. None of them picked up, likely still asleep. The silence was suffocating.

Ameerah's call came as a lifeline. "Are you free?" she asked. Jadwa responded with a quick yes, eager for anything that might pull her from the spiral of her own thoughts. Needing to occupy herself, she went into her room and began unraveling her tiny braids. She worked at them for the next hour, though she'd only undone a quarter of her hair. Her arms ached from the effort, and just as her mind drifted back to his words, the floodgates opened. Tears spilled down her cheeks as his voice echoed in her head. His maddening calmness, his nonchalance—it always cut so deep, like ice beneath her skin. He was so composed, even when angry, while she felt her emotions crack and break.

As she cried, she pulled at more braids, trying to keep busy until Ameerah called again to say she had arrived. Wiping her face quickly, Jadwa rushed into the bathroom to splash cold water over her tear-stained cheeks.

"Assalamu Alaikum," Ameerah greeted her, slightly out of breath, one hand resting on her waist.

"Wa Alaykum Assalam, Big Sis," Jadwa replied, her voice cracking.

"What's wrong? Morning sickness?" Ameerah gasped, her eyes widening with playful concern.

Jadwa rolled her eyes, unable to stop a laugh from escaping. "I've only been married for a little less than three weeks!" she sniffed between chuckles.

Ameerah laughed, brushing off her own assumption before collapsing onto Jadwa's bed. "I'm just messing with you. But when the time comes, you'll want to move downstairs—these stairs aren't for the faint of heart," she teased, glancing apologetically at her swollen belly.

Jadwa's smile faltered for a moment as she stood up. "I'm so sorry, let me get you something to cool off," she offered, calling for one of the maids to bring refreshments.

"Jadu," Ameerah called as Jadwa settled on the floor, facing her.

"Na'am?" Jadwa forced a smile, trying to appear normal.

"You cried," Ameerah stated softly, watching her closely. Jadwa opened her mouth to deny it, but Ameerah held up a hand, silencing her. "Uh-uh. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But don't lie to me."

Jadwa swallowed hard, sitting in silence for a moment before she busied herself with her braids again. "I'm just upset," she admitted, her voice trailing off as fresh tears welled up. She recalled his cold words—how he told her to interpret them however she wished, and warned her to stay out of things if she didn't want to see his real ruthlessness.

"Ya Moh?" Ameerah asked knowingly, raising an eyebrow.

"Who else," Jadwa sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Tell me," Ameerah urged with a light laugh, hoping to lift Jadwa's spirits.

"He was furious this morning. I tried talking him out of something, but I only ended up provoking him. He scolded me and walked out," Jadwa confessed, the hurt still raw in her voice.

"Is it about Lily and Rahma?" Ameerah asked gently.

"Yes," Jadwa confirmed, her shoulders slumping as Ameerah clicked her tongue in sympathy.

When the knock on the door came, notifying them that the refreshments were ready, Jadwa rose and led Ameerah to the living room. She arranged the tray with a salad bowl, desserts, drinks, and a wrap the chef had made, passing a cold drink to Ameerah, who clearly needed it.

"Ahh, I feel better now," Ameerah sighed, leaning back and closing her eyes.

"Sorry," Jadwa chuckled, placing a hand on Ameerah's baby bump.

"Come here, let me help you," Ameerah offered, adjusting her position so she could continue unraveling Jadwa's braids.

Jadwa sat down, resting her head in Ameerah's lap as she began to explain everything that had happened.

"You raised your voice at him?" Ameerah asked, biting her lip.

Jadwa hesitated. "Not shouting... but I raised my voice," she admitted, the weight of her actions sinking in.

Ameerah chuckled, playfully tugging on a braid. "And then he told you to stay out of family matters?" she guessed.

"No, I asked him if I should, and he said yes sarcastically then told me to interpret his words however I wanted," Jadwa sighed, her frustration palpable.

Ameerah hummed in thought. "It sounds like a big misunderstanding," she said, and Jadwa sighed heavily.

"He was wrong for saying what he did, but it's unfair to put all the blame on him, Jadu. You pushed him to that point," Ameerah pointed out gently.

"I know," Jadwa replied, her voice small and defeated.

"I think the problem here is that you're just now getting to know who Ya Muhammad really is," Ameerah said, her voice gentle but firm. Jadwa looked up, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Ameerah sighed softly, her eyes reflecting a deeper understanding. "You didn't know him well enough before marriage, so handling his complex lifestyle and personality might feel a bit heavy now," she explained, her tone patient but direct.

Jadwa's lips parted slightly, still not fully grasping what Ameerah meant. "What do you mean by that?" she asked again.

"You know that Ya Muhammad raised all his siblings, right? He takes care of not just them, but even us—his cousins, his stepmother, and her family," Ameerah paused, waiting for Jadwa to acknowledge the weight of what she was saying. Jadwa, however, remained silent, her eyes cast downward, absorbing the information.

"Here's the thing," Ameerah continued, her voice growing more serious. "Although it's a bitter truth, he's the one Allah will ask about these girls' upbringing. How does he answer that? How does he account for not just his parents' trust but his Lord's as well? Can you be the one to save him from that responsibility?" Ameerah's words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Jadwa lowered her gaze, a flush of embarrassment creeping into her chest.

Ameerah's voice softened as she leaned in, "Let me tell you something. Growing up, we were all terrified of Ya Muhammad. He's always been the tough disciplined soldier he is, tolerating very little nonsense from his siblings from Ya Sadiq all the way down to us, the cousins. He was young too, He sacrificed his youth for everyone else. He deserved a life of fun, but instead, he became the most selfless man we know."

Jadwa remained quiet, her heart stirring as Ameerah spoke.

"We knew," Ameerah went on, "that no matter how scared we were of him, there was nothing we couldn't ask for. To this day, all it takes is a 'Ya Moh, please,' and we have it. He's used to being in control, to making decisions, and to no one questioning him. Most importantly, he's used to being the father figure, the elder, the parent. But at the end of the day, he's just a human being trying his best. He's not perfect."

"For Imran and a lot of men respect means everything," Ameerah added, her voice dropping a notch. "When he feels like he's not getting it, it cuts deep. You know how you feel when you're not loved or cared for? That's how men feel about respect."

"But I do respect him, Ameerah," Jadwa whispered, her voice barely audible. "I just didn't agree with Lily's punishment. Does that mean I should stay quiet?"

Ameerah's hand reached out, fingers brushing through Jadwa's hair. "Not at all," she replied. "It's not about staying silent or agreeing with everything he does. It's about how you bring it up, when you talk about it, and how you say it. Do you know how much control you have over this man? The whole family is seeing him like this for the first time—wrapped around your finger, ready to do whatever you ask."

Ameerah chuckled softly, her tone lighter. "Wallahi, sometimes I think it's a dream when I see him doing certain things... and it's just for you. No one else. Only you, Jadu."

Jadwa felt her heart warm at Ameerah's words, despite the tight knot of regret still sitting heavy in her chest. A smile slowly crept onto her face.

"You're his wife," Ameerah said, her voice now gentle. "By now, you should know all Ya Imran needs is some space and time to clear his head. After he calms down and comes home, you can talk. I swear, there's nothing he won't change if you're the one asking."

"You don't know that," Jadwa whispered, the doubt still lingering. "He's too strict, too rigid in his decisions."

"Jadu," Ameerah said, her tone firm but kind, "It's becoming this cycle—you feel he's not being fair, so you speak up in a way that makes him feel attacked. You are the type of person that likes addressing things immediately and it does more harm than good in marriages if your partner is the opposite so he lashes out even more. Neither of you mean to hurt the other, but it happens."

Jadwa's eyes clouded with uncertainty, her expression unsettled.

"It's about finding a different way to approach him," Ameerah continued. "If you show him respect for his authority, and then calmly explain your view, he'll listen. Imran needs to feel respected. He's under a lot of pressure. When he feels like someone's on his side, especially you, when he feels understood, it's easier for him to calm down and actually hear you."

Jadwa exhaled slowly, feeling a weight lift slightly off her chest. "You're right," she admitted, the pain from earlier slowly ebbing away. "What should I do now?" she asked, running her fingers through her hair, the remaining braids undone by Ameerah's swift hands.

"Let him handle it," Ameerah said with a playful wink. Jadwa rolled her eyes at the light-heartedness in Ameerah's tone. "He will suffocate without you anyway" she joked.

"Just do everything you normally would—cook, relax—but let him deal with the conflict," Ameerah advised, her voice practical. Jadwa nodded, a sense of relief washing over her.

The conversation gradually shifted to lighter topics, laughter filling the air as they chatted about everything and nothing.

"Let's go to the salon tomorrow. Silk press?" Ameerah suggested with a grin, and Jadwa's face lit up with excitement as she agreed. They moved to the kitchen, where Ameerah helped Jadwa prep dinner alongside the chef. Later, after Asr, Ahmad arrived to pick Ameerah up for their hospital visit.

The moment she stepped back into the house after seeing Ameerah off, Jadwa made her way to the kitchen. With swift, practiced movements, she began preparing a creamy tiger nut drink to go with Imran's dinner. As the tamarind drink chilled in the fridge, she felt a quiet satisfaction settle over her—a brief escape from the tension that had loomed over the day.

Imran usually came home right after Maghrib, even on busy days. They were always in touch, even when he had meetings or was out with Ibrahim. He'd call every hour or so, filling her in on his day, sharing small moments. Except today. Today, her phone had been eerily silent.

As the sun began to set, Jadwa returned to the kitchen, deciding to make something traditional—Brabisko with the finest miyan kuka she could muster. She chose her best serving dishes, placing the food inside with care before heading upstairs for Isha. After a long, calming shower, she slipped into cozy pajama pants and a loose shirt, her hair tied into a loose bun with a few strands framing her face.

•••

After Isha, she checked her phone again—still no message from Imran. With a heavy sigh, she rose to prepare the house for the night. The familiar scent of bakhoor filled every corner of the house as she burned it in his room, throughout the house, and finally downstairs, hoping to create a warm, welcoming atmosphere.

By nine o'clock, she set the table, the food still warm and inviting. The drinks remained chilled in the fridge, awaiting his return. Jadwa returned to the living room, absently scrolling through her phone. When she finally heard the distinct growl of his car engine outside, her heart skipped a beat. She quickly fixed her hair, her fingers brushing over her lips, glossy with fresh moisturizer.

What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to greet him after such a strange, quiet day? Her mind raced, but she decided to let the moment unfold naturally.

The door swung open, and his deep voice filled the air. "Assalamu Alaikum," he greeted as he stepped inside, his presence immediately thickening the tension in the room.

"Wa Alaika Assalam," she replied softly, her eyes darting to him. He didn't meet her gaze, setting his keys down without sparing her a look.

"Welcome back, Ya Imran," she added, her tone calm, though heat bubbled just beneath the surface. How could he not have called? Why was he out this late, especially as a married man?

"Kina lafiya?" he asked, moving toward her. Instinctively, she stood and leaned into his hug, her body melting into the familiar warmth as he kissed her forehead.

"Alhamdulillah," she murmured in a soft, sweet voice, barely recognizing her own tone. He moved away, removing his cap as she headed to the kitchen to retrieve the chilled drinks.

"You should have dinner first," she offered, placing the two jugs on the table. He watched her quietly, his expression unreadable.

"Bismillah," he gestured for her to sit, and she took a seat opposite him.

As she opened the food warmers, her eyes flicked to his face, searching for any reaction. There was none. His features remained neutral, giving away nothing. Still, she served him, hoping the meal Brabisko, one of his favorites would soften the distance between them. She poured him a glass of the tiger nut drink, keeping her eyes lowered.

"It's very delicious. Thank you," he said after taking the first bite, followed by a sip of the drink.

"Alhamdulillah," she whispered, her lips curving into a small smile as she stared at her cup.

He ate in silence after that, saying nothing more, his attention focused solely on the meal. The awkwardness grew thick around them, and she began to feel invisible, his indifference cutting deep. Unable to sit there any longer, she stood, not even catching his eye as she served herself on a separate plate and quietly left the dining room.

The hurt gnawed at her, the distance between them palpable despite his lack of anger. Even without the tension from earlier, a thick, invisible rope separated them, tightening with every passing moment.

After eating, Jadwa tidied the kitchen, noting that Imran had already cleared away the food warmers and returned the drinks to the fridge. She turned off the lights and retreated to her room, brushing her teeth and tending to her skincare routine before slipping into his room. The sound of running water from the shower filled the air, matching the quickened rhythm of her heartbeat as she climbed into bed and pulled the duvet over her.

She heard him leave the bathroom and move to the closet, the quiet rustle of fabric as he prepared for bed. She licked her lips, frustration swelling in her chest. She wanted to say something to address everything but the weight of the day pressed her down. She didn't want to provoke him further. She closed her eyes as he turned off the lights, his footsteps soft but steady.

The room plunged into darkness, and Jadwa tried to sleep. Moments later, the lamp on her side flickered on, casting a warm yellow glow across the room.

"Princess," his voice was low, almost tender.

"Uhm?" she hummed, opening her eyes to find him standing over her.

"Get up. We need to talk," he said, and she nodded, sitting up against the headboard, her knees tucked into her chest. He sat across from her, his expression serious but calm.

NEXT CHAPTER IS READY. 350 MEANINGFUL comments and I'll publish it today.

amiirah_aa Appreciating you and your amazing writing skills!❤️