"Healing begins when we allow ourselves to be seen, not as we wish to be, but as we truly are."

~ Unknown

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As the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, Ali awoke to a stillness punctuated only by the distant sounds of movement. The house was large, but the faint echo of activity suggested that someone was already up. Knowing Amira's diligent habits, he guessed she might be in the kitchen preparing breakfast, despite her evident discomfort from yesterday's minor accident.

Remaining in bed for a few more moments, Ali's gaze settled on Amira's diary resting on a small table across the room. The diary, a constant companion in her nightly rituals, intrigued him. He had often observed her immersed in writing, her expressions flickering between contemplation and relief. Although curiosity about its contents irked him, he respected her privacy too much to peek just like that. He denied ruining the building trust by peeking in her privacy.

With a soft sigh, he rose and readied himself for the day, the subtle sounds from downstairs growing clearer as the household began to awaken. By the time he made his way down, the aroma of freshly brewed tea and cooking wafted through the expansive home, guiding him to the kitchen.

There, he found Amira, her slight figure busied over the stove. She was dressed ready for her university, her hair pulled back, maneuvering around the kitchen with a slight limp. "Good morning," he greeted, noting how she carefully avoided pressure on her sore foot.

Amira turned, offering a weary smile. "Good morning. How did you sleep?"

"I slept well, thanks. You should've waited for someone to wake up to help you with breakfast. You don't have to manage everything on your own," Ali chided gently, leaning against the doorway.

"It's just breakfast," Amira replied, continuing her task. "I'm used to it. Also, I have to leave. Have an early lecture today."

As they talked, family members began to gather around the dining table, drawn by the inviting smell of breakfast. Ali assisted Amira with setting the table, occasionally stealing glances at her. His brothers and sister in laws helped them out as well. The diary upstairs was momentarily forgotten in the face of her resilient presence.

Breakfast passed with lively family chatter. Throughout the meal, Ali watched Amira interact with their family, her manner polite yet reserved, her pain subtly evident in her careful movements.

After the meal, as Amira began clearing the table, Jasmine stepped up to help. "Let me do that. You get ready for your uni," she insisted, taking a stack of plates from her hands.

"Thank you, Bhabhi," Amira said, giving her a small, grateful smile. They worked together in comfortable silence before she vanished to her room to get her things. Ali was already there, sorting her things. For a second, Amira was shocked to see the diary outside. Casually she hides it for no one to see them. But seeing Ali not even close to it, a relief washed over her face. She took it and put it in her bag. From the sides of his eyes, Ali was observing her.

"I did not look into it!" Amira put a glance towards him while he was already looking at her. "I've noticed you writing in your diary quite often. It seems important to you," he said casually, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yes, it helps me sort out my thoughts. I did not imply you seeing it," she admitted, her voice soft.

"If you ever want to share what's in it, I'm here," Ali offered, hoping to show his support without overstepping.

Amira considered this, her expression unreadable for a moment. "Maybe someday, Ali. I appreciate your offer."

Ali nodded, respecting her boundary. "Whenever you're ready," he replied.

As the day progressed, Ali found himself thinking about Amira's diary, curious about the thoughts and feelings she penned down so privately. The fear when she saw it being left on the table. Yet, he recognized that understanding her would come not from the pages of her diary but through the trust they built, moment by moment, outside the walls of their comfort zones.

Unlike regular days, Ali returned home earlier. He did not stay back for anything that was not necessary. This led to a huge amount of satisfaction in his father who was glad to see the change in his son after months of their marriage.

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As Ali entered their room, he saw her working with all her things scattered on the bed. Numerous books, papers, pencils... He chuckled seeing her while she didn't even notice him before. She looked up and frowned after seeing him. Her eyes automatically wandered to the clock.

"You here? But it's just 6? Are you fine?" Amira immediately shot him with questions while he got confused by her questions.

"What do you mean just 6?" HE put his bag and blazer there while loosening up his tie.

"You never come home before 9 or 10!"

"That was before when I didn't like you even a bit. Now things have changed. I am still not kidding about giving us a sincere chance!" He sat on the couch after taking water.

Amira paused, absorbing Ali's words. The room seemed to still for a moment, her heart beating a little faster at the unexpected confession. Ali's presence at this early hour was unusual, but it was his openness that caught her off guard. His eyes were locked onto hers, sincere and unwavering.

"I... I noticed," she finally replied, her voice almost a whisper. "I noticed that you're trying, and I appreciate it." She returned to her books, her fingers nervously flipping through the pages as she gathered her thoughts. Ali watched her carefully, noting the slight tension in her movements.

"Look," he began, his tone gentle, "I know this isn't easy. For either of us. I have my own regrets, and I'm sure you do too. But I don't want to keep dwelling on the past. I want to move forward, and I want us to try to do that together."

Amira glanced at him, her eyes betraying a mix of emotions. It was clear she was trying to find the right words to express herself. "Ali... it's not that I don't want to try. I do," she admitted, her gaze dropping to her hands. "It's just... complicated. It's hard to let go of certain things."

Ali nodded, understanding the depth of her hesitation. "I get that," he responded quietly. "And I'm not asking you to forget everything or force yourself to feel something you're not ready for. I just want us to be honest with each other, to try and find a way forward."

She bit her lip, her eyes meeting his once more. "You're asking for honesty, but some truths... they're hard to say. They're buried deep because they're painful."

Ali stood up and moved closer to her, kneeling beside the bed. "I'm not asking you to share everything right now," he said softly. "All I'm asking is that you don't shut me out. Let me be here for you, even if it's just to sit in silence or listen when you're ready."

A moment of silence passed, the room heavy with unspoken words. Finally, Amira gave a slight nod. "Okay," she murmured, "I'll try."

He gave her a small, reassuring smile. "That's all I'm asking for."

Standing up, he reached for one of her scattered books. "What are you working on?" he asked, changing the subject to ease the tension.

"Just some assignments," she replied, the slight relief in her voice noticeable. "There's a lot to catch up on, and it helps to stay busy."

He nodded, sitting back on the couch and observing her for a moment before speaking. "If you need help, just let me know. I'm not sure how much I can assist with university work, but I'm here."

"Thanks," she said quietly, a small smile playing on her lips. For the first time, she felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could change between them.

Ali stayed with her in the room, keeping a respectful distance while she continued her work. He busied himself with his own tasks, glancing at her occasionally. There was a sense of quiet companionship between them, a silent agreement to take small steps toward building something new.

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Diary Entry - [16.09.23]

Dear Diary,

Today felt like the sun breaking through after a long, stormy night. It was a day of unexpected moments, small but significant in their own way. It began with the morning's silence, the house waking up slowly as I moved around the kitchen. My foot still hurts a bit from yesterday, but I'm learning to move through the pain. The breakfast was a little rushed, but manageable. I wasn't expecting Ali to join so early. His presence in the kitchen surprised me; I could sense a shift in him. I can't explain it, but something has definitely changed.

The real surprise came when he mentioned my diary. I had carelessly left it out in the room this morning, and my heart skipped a beat when I realized he could have looked through it. But he didn't. Not even once. It's a small thing, but it mattered to me. He respected my privacy, and that... it means more than I can express. When he said he'd be there to listen if I ever wanted to share my thoughts, I almost felt a twinge of relief. He's starting to understand me, or at least, he's trying. It's strange how these tiny gestures make my walls tremble.

Ali came home earlier than usual today. I wasn't prepared for it; I'm so used to him being away until late that I'd filled the room with my work and books, thinking I had hours to myself. When he walked in, I panicked a little. But then he smiled, chuckling at the mess I'd made on the bed. I caught myself laughing, too. It felt... easy. Comfortable. He didn't rush to judge or scold. Instead, he joined me on the couch, a small but meaningful shift in how we've been.

Maybe he's serious about giving us a chance. Maybe, for the first time, I can allow myself to believe it. I'm cautious, still holding onto the fear of disappointment, but somewhere deep down, there's a tiny spark of hope. If I've learned anything, it's that trust isn't built in grand gestures; it's found in these quiet, unspoken moments. And today, for the first time, I saw the possibility of a life where I'm not just surviving but actually living.

But still, my fears linger. What if it's too soon to hope? What if this is just another temporary calm before the storm? I don't know the answers, but I do know that today was a step, however small, in a direction I never thought possible. Maybe that's enough for now.

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