"Sometimes, silence speaks louder than words. But in that silence, we lose the chance to fix what was never truly broken."

~ Unknown

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The week following their day at the lake passed in a surprising harmony. Ali and Amira had settled into a new rhythm, one that neither of them had anticipated. Their interactions were softer, less guarded. They found comfort in each other's presence; whether it was a quiet breakfast in the kitchen or sharing casual talks in the living room. For the first time since their marriage, laughter occasionally brightened the air between them, and small gestures of care started to bridge the emotional gap that had been there for so long.

Yet, beneath this growing connection lay the shadow of uncertainty, an unspoken fear that things might change at any moment. It was this uncertainty that had caused Amira to keep her distance, despite the progress they had made. And it was this same fear that made Ali question his own decisions regarding their future.

On the seventh day since the lake trip, the fragile balance they had struck was shattered. That morning, Ali had left for the office, the remnants of his doubts clouding his mind. He felt the weight of the secrets they had yet to share and found himself growing more uncertain about how to approach their future. Should he push for more honesty, or give her more space? It was a struggle that gnawed at him throughout the day.

Amira, on the other hand, had been tidying up their room when she came across a stack of papers in Ali's drawer. She had not been intentionally snooping; it was just a matter of routine cleaning. But as the papers slipped out and scattered across the floor, she froze. There, among the documents, were divorce papers.

She stared at them, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. Why were these here? Why hadn't he mentioned them? Her mind raced through the possibilities, each one more disheartening than the last. Was he preparing to end things? Had their recent progress meant nothing to him? The questions flooded her mind, stirring up the fear she had been trying so hard to keep at bay.

For the rest of the day, Amira carried a heavy weight in her chest. She found herself second-guessing every gesture of kindness he had shown recently. Perhaps it had all been an attempt to soften the blow of an impending separation. The thought twisted inside her, turning her heart cold. She kept silent, building up the misconception within herself that Ali wanted the divorce.

Meanwhile, at the office, Ali found himself struggling with his own doubts. He was torn between wanting to push for more honesty and fearing that too much pressure might drive her further away. Now, he was unsure how to move forward, not knowing if Amira even wanted to try anymore.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

That evening, as the family gathered in the living room, Amira kept mostly to herself, quietly observing the light-hearted interactions around her. She noticed how Ali seemed preoccupied, his usual ease missing. Her eyes flickered to him now and then, filled with worry and unanswered questions.

Samad noticed Amira's mood and decided to have a word with her. He gently guided her to a quiet corner of the house, away from the others. "You seem troubled," he remarked softly, with concern in his eyes. "What's going on?"

Amira hesitated, her emotions swirling in confusion. "I... I found the divorce papers," she confessed in a low voice. "I think Ali wants to end this, but he hasn't said anything. I don't know what to do, Samad bhai. It feels like we're moving forward, but then... this." She gestured helplessly.

Samad frowned, trying to make sense of what she was saying. "The divorce papers?" he echoed. "When did you see them?"

"This morning," Amira admitted. "I was cleaning, and they just... fell out. I don't know what to think. I can't open up to him. Get away from the fear that all this is surreal. Maybe a divorce is the best option after all. I mean, it just suits."

Unbeknownst to them, Ali had been walking toward the hallway and overheard the conversation. He stopped in his tracks, his heart sinking. So, she did want a divorce. His mind went blank for a moment, unable to process the reality of what he had just heard. She thought a divorce was the best option.

Silently, he retreated before they could notice his presence. A heavy dread filled him. All their progress over the past week felt meaningless now, as if it had been a temporary illusion. If she wanted out, who was he to stop her? But why did it hurt so much to think of letting her go? He found himself in a whirlwind of emotions, unsure of what to do next.

The rest of the evening passed in a strained silence. Amira stayed in the room, sitting by the window, gazing out with a blank expression. Ali entered a while later, his face grim and determined.

"We need to talk," he said quietly, closing the door behind him. Amira turned to look at him, her heart thudding in her chest.

"About what?" she asked, her voice trembling. She feared the divorce coming up now, when she had seen the papers.

Ali's expression was unreadable as he finally sat down. "About our future."

Amira's breath caught. There it was—the conversation she had been dreading.

Ali paused, choosing his words carefully, but the heaviness in his chest was unmistakable. "I think we need to be honest about where this is going," he began, the words difficult to push out. "Maybe... maybe we should consider that a divorce is the right path after all."

Amira felt her stomach twist painfully. There it was—the confirmation she feared. He did want out. And yet, she couldn't argue with him. "If that's what you think..." she said, barely above a whisper.

Ali, misunderstanding her hesitance as agreement, felt his heart drop. "It's not what I wanted to say," he admitted softly, "but if this is what's best, we should move forward."

Amira swallowed hard. She had thought this might happen, but now that the words were out in the open, it felt far more real—and far more painful—than she had anticipated. "I found the papers today," she said finally, unable to hold back the tears any longer. "I thought... I thought you were preparing to leave."

Ali's jaw tightened. "Those papers were drawn up months ago, back when I didn't know how to deal with this. I kept them because... I didn't know what else to do. But I never thought we'd actually use them."

Silence fell between them again, heavy with everything they weren't saying, with the words neither of them could bring themselves to speak.

Ali's voice broke through the silence, calm but full of finality. "Then we'll go through with it," he said. "I'll take care of the arrangements. I'll make sure you're financially secure. I don't want you to feel trapped. You don't have to go back to your family."

Amira's heart clenched at his offer. It sounded too final. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But... I'll probably have to return to them. I don't have many options after the divorce."

Ali shook his head, the frustration growing inside him. "You don't have to do anything," he said firmly. "I'll make sure you have a choice."

The conversation, despite its civility, left them both emotionally drained. Neither said what they truly wanted, instead resigning themselves to what they thought the other needed.

"Fine," Amira murmured. "Let's proceed."

Ali stood up, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he nodded and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Once alone, Amira sank onto the bed, tears finally spilling over. She had never imagined she'd want anything from this marriage, and yet now, the idea of losing whatever they had begun to build left her feeling more hollow than she had ever thought possible.

And in the hallway, Ali leaned against the wall, his chest tightening with the weight of his own decision. He had thought he was giving her what she wanted, what would make her happiest. But then why did it feel like the biggest mistake of his life?

Neither knew the full extent of the other's thoughts. Both believed they were letting go for the other's sake. And so, they continued down the path of a decision that neither truly wanted.

For now, they were set on a path to end what had barely begun.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Diary Entry - [28.09.23]

Dear Diary,

Everything feels so surreal right now. Just last week, I thought things were changing between Ali and me. We shared moments—real, genuine moments—that made me think maybe, just maybe, this marriage could work. There were smiles, laughter, and small gestures that felt like the beginning of something I had never dared to imagine for myself. For the first time, I allowed myself to hope.

But now... now it feels like everything is falling apart. I found the divorce papers this morning. They were just lying there, hidden in a drawer. And suddenly, all the hope I had built over the past few days came crashing down. He must have been planning this all along, even while we were getting closer. Why didn't he mention anything? Was all this just his way of making things easier before breaking the news? I'm so confused.

The worst part is, I haven't asked him about it. I don't know how. What if he says it's true? What if this really is what he wants? I feel so foolish now for thinking we were making progress. Maybe I was wrong about everything, and he was just being kind out of guilt or pity. I can't shake this fear that I've misunderstood everything. The thought that I deserved some happiness feels ugly.

I spoke to Samad bhai about it. I didn't mean to, but the words just spilled out. I told him about the papers, about how maybe it's best for us to divorce. I couldn't even explain why I said it—maybe because I thought if I said it first, it would hurt less when Ali finally brought it up. I don't know how to take it back. I don't even know if I should.

He hadn't said a word to me about the papers when he came home tonight, but I could feel the distance between us, after days. It was like a wall had sprung up, and neither of us knew how to tear it down. His sudden talk about our future confirmed my doubts. He wanted a divorce. And there was nothing I could do now except to agree to him. I know I was always forced upon him.

I'm scared, Diary. Scared that I've ruined everything, scared that I've misunderstood him, scared that this is the end. And maybe I deserve this for not trusting in the progress we made. But how could I trust it, when those papers were lying there, hidden away?

I wish I could talk to him, but the fear of hearing him say he wants to end this with his complete will, that he has no hesitation... I don't know if I can handle that. So here we are, stuck in this strange limbo, where neither of us says what we truly mean. I feel like I've lost something I didn't even know I wanted until now. And it's breaking me apart.

Maybe I've already lost him. Maybe I've lost us.

I don't know what to do anymore.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───