The news of the impending marriage spread like wildfire through the Khan family. As preparations for the wedding were in full swing, Mahad couldn't contain his happiness. He recognized the feeling as love, and he was ready to dedicate his entire life to Zoya. He had loved his ex-wife, but she sought something beyond love, leading to their unfortunate separation. Zoya, on the other hand, felt a mixture of emotions—neither sad nor explicitly happy. Mahad, who had once claimed not to like her during their time together, was now marrying her. What had changed?

Once again, the grandeur of a Khan family wedding unfolded in the villa. Opening the door to his room, Mahad found Zoya sitting on his bed, now his wife. The sight intrigued him deeply. Clearing his throat, Mahad took a seat in front of her, taking her hand in his. She looked at him with surprise.

"I know what you are thinking, baby... I know we used to fight like kids, and me saying I don't like you one bit... It was true, though. I never liked you, but something changed when I came back," Mahad began, only to be interrupted by Zoya's sarcastic chuckle. "So, I'm just a replacement for your first wife?" she remarked. Mahad's eyes widened, and he instantly shook his head in denial. "No, no... It wasn't my intention, Zoya. She was in my past. I won't say I didn't love her, because I did. But she left a very bad impact on my life. I promised myself I'll never look at any girl but Zoya. After seeing you, I just couldn't control myself. You can never be her replacement. You both are very different, and I love who you are, not her."

Mahad explained, taking another deep breath. He moved a little closer to her, placing his finger on her chin. "Zoya, give me a chance. I promise I'll be the best husband for you, just like you wanted—supportive, loving, and caring. I'll be all that. And I genuinely love you, Zoya." Hearing the sincerity in his voice, Zoya realized he would indeed be the best husband. However, she was unaware of her feelings for him. "I also liked you for a long time, Mahad. But never got a chance to say. Things happened. I also will be the best wife for you, but you'll have to work hard. You'll have to make me fall for you," she confessed, making his heart calm and his lips curve into a smile. "I'll smitten you with my charms, babygirl," he declared, looking at her with a darker gaze than usual. "May I?" he asked for permission, to which she blushed and nodded. Placing his lips on hers, he kissed her softly yet passionately. When she tapped on his chest, signaling him to stop, he placed wet kisses on her neck. They let each other go completely, with the moon and his star hiding behind clouds, giggling and blushing at the union of the new couple.

After a week of marriage, everything seemed perfect for the Khan couples. Mahid and Hadia were blissfully happy with their baby girl, Arshad cherished having his wife and son back in his arms, and the newlyweds reveled in the excitement of their budding love. However, things were quite different for Rayyan. Constant fighting and yelling with his wife, coupled with a heavy workload from the office, added to the challenges he faced.

Upon hearing the joyous tidings of others' pregnancies, Maha's heart yearned for the embrace of motherhood. Although initially hesitant due to her tender age, Rayyan reluctantly acquiesced, succumbing to the fervor in her eyes. However, as time unfolded, Maha's hope crumbled when bouts of sickness failed to herald the anticipated pregnancy.

Repeated attempts at conception left Maha shattered, yet her spirit refused to surrender to despair. The relentless pursuit of a dream, unfulfilled each time, cast a suffocating shadow on her soul, plunging her into the abyss of depression. The ache for a child became an insurmountable burden, a silent wail that echoed in the quiet corners of their shared existence.

Hope then took the fragile form of IVF, a pathway fraught with dreams and fragility. Yet, the first attempt crumbled like delicate petals in the wind, leaving Maha and Rayyan entangled in the thorns of disappointment. Seeking solace, they turned to a doctor whose words echoed with promises of health and fertility, yet the elusive blessing remained out of reach.

In the midst of sterile consultations, the palpable weight of unfulfilled desires strained the fabric of their connection. Each unsuccessful endeavor forged a chasm, widening silently between them. Maha's yearning for a child, an ache etched in every tear, threatened to drown the love that once bound them together. As the silent symphony of their struggles played out, their shared journey became a tapestry woven with threads of sorrow, longing, and the persistent echo of unshed tears.

Day by day, Maha's relentless insistence on pursuing another IVF intensified. Deaf to the pleas of both her husband and her mother, a stubborn fixation consumed her. The quiet desperation in Rayyan's eyes mirrored the ache in his heart.

The once tender threads of love now frayed, unraveling with each argument fueled by Maha's singular obsession. It was as if her raison d'être had condensed into the elusive dream of pregnancy, eclipsing everything else. The silent cries of Rayyan's suffering echoed through the walls, his love for Maha weathering the storm of her unyielding pursuit.

In the shadows of their fights, Rayyan's heart bore the weight of a love overshadowed by the persistent yearning for a child. Maha's addiction to the idea of parenthood severed the connection that once defined their union, leaving Rayyan drowning in a sea of unspoken grief. The tears that escaped his eyes held the silent symphony of a love tested and strained, an elegy for dreams deferred and a marriage adrift in the tempest of unmet desires.

Returning home weary, Rayyan wearily approached their room, gingerly opening the door to ward off another night of confrontation. The dim light revealed Maha, perched by the window with her back turned. A heavy sigh escaped him as he placed his bag on a chair, fingers loosening the constricting tie. His gaze, marked by a furrowed brow, met a heart-wrenching sight—Maha's shoulders quivering in silent anguish, tears betraying the depths of her sorrow once more.

Seated beside her, Rayyan felt the weight of Maha's despair as she rested her head on his shoulder. Through tearful sobs, she whispered brokenly, "Rayyan, A-abeer is so c-cute. Why can't I-i be h-her m-mother?" His response was tender silence, enveloping her in understanding. Without uttering a word, he gently lifted her onto his lap, cradling her in an embrace that spoke volumes of shared pain and unspoken love.

"Maha, my love, please don't succumb to despair. Allah will surely hear our prayers," Rayyan whispered tenderly, attempting to console her. She shook her head, tears streaming down her face as she cried against his chest. "Let's try one more time, Rayyan," she pleaded, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

Rayyan, torn between exhaustion and resilience, hesitated. Cold determination replaced the softness in his gaze as he looked at her. The room chilled as he spoke, "I'm tired, Maha," he declared, guiding her gently to the bed before heading to the washroom.

The atmosphere crackled with tension when Maha, driven by frustration, lashed out. "YOU ARE ALWAYS TIRED, RAYYAN! Why are YOU even tired? I'm only asking for a baby, and you can't even give me that!" Her words reverberated, echoing the bitterness that had seeped into their once-shared dreams.

Rayyan halted, his raised eyebrows betraying the simmering anger within. He turned, facing her with a pointed finger, questioning her accusation. "I shouldn't be tired, Maha? Is that what you're implying?" The edge in his voice cut through the room, a stark contrast to the warmth that once filled their shared moments.

Maha, fueled by her own anger, laughed dismissively. "Yes, you, Rayyan. You act like you don't want a child. Don't blame everything on me when you also agreed to be a father." The room hung heavy with the unspoken resentment, a symphony of quivering emotions and shattered dreams.

She spat, defiantly standing her ground. In response, he took forceful strides, gripping her cheeks with a firm yet cautious hand, ensuring no harm. "Maha, I'm seriously tired of your daily nagging. I don't care what you want, okay? I genuinely want a child, but not with the desperation you're showing," his voice rose, the words cutting through the charged air.

A forceful jerk of her head signaled his frustration, and he led himself towards the bathroom, leaving her tear-stained on the cold floor. Shivering emotions echoed in the silence, a painful reminder of a marriage unraveling amidst the shards of unmet expectations and unspoken pain.

Curling herself on the janamaz (prayer mat), Maha wept, hands raised in supplication to her Rub, her Allah, pleading for the cherished desire within her heart. "Ya Allah, You love us more than seventy mothers combined. Why then, do You withhold the love I seek? Am I so undeserving?" Her cries reverberated in the silent communion with the Divine, a lament of a soul yearning for a blessing yet to be bestowed.

Unbeknownst to Maha, Rayyan also knelt in silent prayer, tears streaming down his face as he sought solace and guidance from Allah. His heart ached witnessing Maha's pain, and he fervently implored for blessings that seemed elusive.

As Maha lay beside him, Rayyan turned, enfolding her in his arms. The weight of unspoken prayers lingered in the room as they sought solace in each other. In a bittersweet act, driven by both love and desperation, they surrendered to each other's embrace one more time, not knowing what the uncertain future held.

After the echoes of passion subsided, they lay intertwined in aching vulnerability. The air hung heavy with the unspoken understanding that this union might hold the weight of finality. In the stillness of the night, they drifted into slumber, clasped in each other's arms, uncertain of the dawn that awaited them, burdened by the throbbing ache of unfulfilled dreams and unanswered prayers.