"To mend what's broken, we must first acknowledge the cracks and let each other in."

~Unknown

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The next morning, Amira woke early. The house was still quiet, the soft morning light just beginning to creep through the windows. She moved silently, careful not to wake anyone, especially Ali. She didn't want another awkward conversation, another moment of forced interactions. Things between them had already become strained enough. She felt suffocated by the weight of everything unsaid, and she couldn't bear it any longer.

Ali woke a little later, his head still heavy from the night before. He turned over, expecting to see Amira beside him, but the space next to him was cold and empty. He sat up, rubbing his face and groaning softly. The events of the previous night were still fresh in his mind, the unspoken tension, the way he had tried to be near her without saying a word. Now, more than anything, he wanted to talk to her, to finally tell her everything. He had waited too long.

But when he went downstairs, Amira was already gone. The kitchen was empty, and there was no sign of her. A knot of anxiety tightened in his chest. He glanced at the clock. She must have left early for university. He sighed, frustrated with himself for missing the chance to speak to her. There was no time to dwell on it now, though. He had an important meeting later that morning, and he couldn't afford to be late.

He grabbed his things and headed out, his mind still half-focused on Amira as he drove to the office. The day passed in a blur of meetings and paperwork, but all he could think about was how to approach Amira that evening. He had to tell her how he felt, how he didn't want the divorce, how everything had spiraled out of control because of a simple misunderstanding.

After the long day, Amira slipped into their room, quickly gathering her belongings. Her suitcase was already packed, the decision made. After a moment's hesitation, she placed the letter she had written on the kitchen table, along with the signed divorce papers. The note was brief, but it said everything she needed to say. She took a deep breath, casting one last glance at the house before walking out the door and heading toward her university.

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Ali came home later than usual, his mind still replaying the missed conversations and unspoken words that had been piling up between him and Amira. The day had been long, filled with meetings and work, but none of it had distracted him from the growing distance between them. Tonight, he was determined to talk to her, to fix things before they fell apart completely.

As he stepped inside the house, he noticed something was off. The quiet was unusual, even for this time of night. Normally, he would hear the soft rustling of Amira moving around, or the faint hum of the television from the living room. But tonight, the house felt... empty.

Ali walked through the living room, calling out her name softly, "Amira?" But there was no response. His heart began to race, a sense of dread creeping into his chest. He moved toward the kitchen, hoping to find her there, maybe cooking or cleaning. But as he entered the room, his eyes landed on something that made his stomach drop—a letter on the table.

Next to it, neatly placed, were divorce papers and a packed bag. His heart stopped. Ali approached the table slowly, his hands trembling as he reached for the letter. He unfolded it carefully, as if afraid of what it might say. The familiar, delicate handwriting was unmistakable.

"Ali, By the time you read this, I'll be gone. I'm sorry for leaving this way, but things between us have become too difficult. I couldn't bear the weight of everything between us anymore. It's become too awkward, and I feel like we've been avoiding the truth for far too long. The silence is suffocating, and I can't keep pretending everything is okay. I know you've been trying, and so have I, but we've both been avoiding what we really feel. Maybe this is for the best. I've signed the divorce papers to make things easier for both of us. You don't have to worry about me anymore. I hope you can find peace, and I hope you understand why I had to leave.

~ Amira."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. She had left. Signed the divorce papers and left. He stared at the paper in disbelief, the weight of her decision sinking in. His mind raced, heart pounding as he scanned the room, his eyes falling on her packed bags near the door. She had planned this. She was really gone.

Panic surged through him. He couldn't let this happen. Not like this. He shoved the letter and papers aside, grabbing his keys as he bolted for the door. He had to find her. Had to stop her before it was too late.

He drove, not knowing where to start, but his instincts told him there was only one place she could be: her family's house. He sped through the streets, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what to say to her. He had to tell her the truth—that he didn't want the divorce, that he had misunderstood everything.

As he pulled up outside her family's home, his heart sank again. The lights were on, and he could hear raised voices from inside. His chest tightened with fear and anger as he rushed toward the door, pushing it open without hesitation.

Inside, he froze at the sight before him. Amira was on the floor, her face pale, bruises forming on her cheek. Her two brothers, Asif and Abram, stood over her, their voices harsh and accusing.

"You think you can just leave your husband and disgrace this family?" Abram's voice was sharp, filled with rage.

"You've humiliated us, Amira!" Asif spat, stepping closer to her.

Ali's blood boiled. Without thinking, he stepped forward, his voice thundering through the room. "Get away from her!"

Asif and Abram turned, shocked by his sudden appearance. Their faces twisted in anger, but Ali didn't care. He stormed forward, placing himself between Amira and her brothers, his eyes blazing with fury.

"You lay another hand on her, and you'll regret it," Ali growled, his fists clenched.

"Ali..." Abram sneered, stepping forward.

"She's my wife. My family," Ali shot back, his voice low and dangerous. "And we're not getting a divorce. So, back off. I dare you to touch her once again."

Asif scoffed. "She already signed the papers. And you told me you were getting a divorce."

"I don't care!" Ali roared, his voice echoing through the room. "I haven't signed anything, and I'm not going to. We're staying married, and you're not going to touch her ever again."

For a moment, the room fell into a tense silence. Asif and Abram exchanged looks, clearly unsure of what to do next. But Ali didn't give them a chance to respond. He turned to Amira, his expression softening as he crouched down beside her, gently helping her to her feet. She winced in pain, her eyes wide with fear and shock.

"Come on," Ali whispered to her, his voice filled with urgency. "You're coming with me."

Amira hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering between her brothers and Ali. But the look in his eyes—the determination, the protectiveness—made her realize that he wasn't going to leave her here. He picked her as they made their way out of the house.

They drove back in silence, the tension still thick between them, but Ali's mind was racing. He had to tell her the truth, had to explain everything. She needed to know that he had never wanted this divorce, that everything had been a misunderstanding.

When they finally arrived home, Ali helped her inside, his heart pounding in his chest. He guided her to the living room, gently sitting her down on the couch. Her eyes were filled with confusion, but also a flicker of hope.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, her voice shaky. "I thought... I thought you wanted this to end."

Ali knelt down in front of her, his hands gently cupping her face as he looked into her eyes. "I never wanted a divorce," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "I heard you talking to Samad Bhai about it, and I thought... I thought that's what you wanted. But I never wanted to lose you, Amira. I can't."

Her eyes widened in surprise, tears brimming as she stared at him in disbelief. "You... you don't want a divorce?"

He nodded, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that had escaped down her cheek. "I don't. And I'm so sorry for everything. For not talking to you, for letting this get so out of hand. But I want to fix this. I want us to be together. If you'll have me."

"What about the divorce papers lying in the cupboard?"

"They are there because I forgot them. Not because I want to leave you," he said, remembering their prior divorce arrangement.

Amira's lips quivered as she tried to speak, her voice barely a whisper. "I thought... I thought you didn't want me."

"I may not want you but I need you," Ali murmured, leaning closer. "I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever."

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the weight of their shared misunderstanding slowly lifting. Then, without thinking, Ali closed the distance between them, his lips gently brushing against hers in a soft, tender kiss. Amira was shocked, her eyes wide. He pulled away, realizing what he had just done. Amira looked down with a hue visible on her face.

"I am sorry for not communicating with you. But I am not sorry for this. Still, you can deny me whenever. I won't disrespect your denial," Ali whispered. Amira nodded slightly. He pecked her lips once again.

After a moment, Ali pulled back slightly, his eyes soft but filled with concern as he took in the bruises on her face. The sight of her hurt like this made his chest tighten with a mixture of anger and regret. He couldn't believe her brothers had laid their hands on her. Gently, he reached out, brushing a thumb along the edge of a bruise on her cheek, his voice quiet and filled with remorse.

"Let me take care of you," he said softly.

Amira hesitated for a moment but then nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor. She was still processing everything, still shaken from the events of the day, but there was something in Ali's voice that made her feel safe.

Ali stood up and quickly fetched the first-aid kit from the bathroom. When he returned, he knelt in front of her, gently lifting her hand as he began to clean the cuts and bruises on her arms and face. His movements were careful, his touch soft, as though he was afraid of hurting her more. He worked in silence, his focus entirely on her, his jaw clenched tightly with the effort of holding back the anger he felt toward her brothers.

Amira winced slightly when the antiseptic touched her skin, but she didn't pull away. She watched him as he worked, noticing the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his hands moved with such tenderness. It was as if he was trying to make up for all the times he had failed to protect her before.

"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly, glancing up at her, his eyes filled with concern.

"Not as much as it did earlier," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Thank you."

Ali gave her a small, reassuring smile, finishing up by gently wrapping a bandage around her wrist. "You don't need to thank me," he said softly. "This is the least I can do."

When he was done, he leaned back slightly, his eyes lingering on her face. There was a long moment of silence between them, the air thick with unspoken words, but neither of them knew how to break it. Instead, they sat there, the quiet of the room wrapping around them like a fragile peace.

"You're safe now," Ali finally said, his voice soft but firm. "I won't let anyone hurt you again. Not your brothers, not anyone."

Amira looked at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She nodded slightly, the weight of everything that had happened finally settling over her. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt a sense of safety, of being cared for.

"Thank you, Ali," she whispered, her voice trembling. "For everything."

Ali shook his head, reaching out to gently take her hand in his. "We're in this together, Amira. No more running, no more misunderstandings. Just... us."

They sat like that for a while longer, the silence between them no longer heavy, but filled with a quiet understanding. There was still so much to say, so much to work through, but for tonight, they had taken a step forward.

As the night deepened, Ali helped her up from the couch and led her to their room, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. They didn't need to say anything more for now. The peace between them was fragile, but it was real, and that was enough for both of them to begin again.

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Diary Entry - [02.10.23]

Dear Diary,

Where do I even begin? Today feels like a dream, or maybe a nightmare that has finally started to turn around. My emotions are tangled in a way I can't even explain. There was a moment where I thought this was all over, that my decision to leave was the only way out. I was convinced that Ali wanted the divorce just as much as I did—or at least as much as I thought I did.

I left everything behind, packed my bags, and signed the divorce papers. It felt like a final goodbye, a way to free both of us from this tangled mess we had gotten ourselves into. I wrote him a letter, poured out my heart in a way that I hadn't been able to do face-to-face. I thought it was the only solution—to leave quietly, without confrontation, without dragging this on any longer.

But as I walked out, a part of me broke. I thought about him, about us. About everything we had shared, however small or fleeting. Maybe deep down, I didn't want it to end, but I couldn't see any other way. The awkwardness, the silence, the distance between us—it felt suffocating.

And then... Ali came for me.

I didn't expect it. I didn't expect him to rush in, to see the fury in his eyes when he saw what my brothers had done to me. I've been used to standing alone in these moments, but there he was, standing up for me, defending me. Telling them that we weren't getting a divorce. My heart raced when he said that. I couldn't believe it. He doesn't want to leave? He's still fighting for us? It feels surreal.

When he took me home, I couldn't help but feel... confused. Why would he fight for me if he wanted this to end? All this time, I thought he had given up. I thought the divorce papers sitting in the cupboard were a sign, proof that we were on the same page about this. But it turns out... I was wrong.

Ali told me the truth tonight. He never wanted a divorce. He thought I wanted it. All this time, we've both been misunderstanding each other, trapped in our own fears, too scared to speak. It hurts to realize how close we came to losing each other over a mistake, over the silence that grew between us. And then... he kissed me.

I don't know what to feel. Shock, relief, confusion—it all hit me at once. When his lips touched mine, I felt something stir inside me that I had buried deep, something I hadn't allowed myself to acknowledge. I felt warmth. I felt safety. But mostly, I felt... wanted.

And then, after that moment, he tended to my wounds. The care in his hands, the gentle way he cleaned my cuts, bandaged my bruises—it was as if he was trying to erase all the hurt that had built up between us. He didn't just stop at words. He showed me, with every touch, every bandage, that he meant what he said. It felt... different.

But I'm scared. Scared to let myself believe in this, to believe that we can fix what's broken between us. Can we really build something new from the mess we've made? Can we learn to communicate, to trust, to actually be there for each other?

I don't know. But for the first time in a long while, I feel like there's hope. Like maybe we can try. Maybe we can stop letting fear and silence define our relationship.

Ali said he's not going anywhere, and for tonight, I believe him.

I just hope I have the courage to meet him halfway.

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To clear: About the divorce. I felt as if that matter, never got its closure, so I readded that part. Ali is not a bad person. He was hurt at the thought of living his whole life with someone who was forced into his life. He thought that she wanted to marry him even if he asked her to deny. And even though he was angry and frustrated, he restrained himself from hitting her or doing anything with her. Yes, he mentally tortured her bit he was also trying to escape all that. So I believe a divorce between them would not be justified.