My blank love - My blank love Part-4

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🌄 "A New Morning, the Same Old Loneliness"

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The next morning in the hills of Cappadocia, the snow had settled in a thicker layer.

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The first rays of the sun slowly began to touch Zoboria’s face,

but her eyes were still entangled in the darkness of the night.

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Her lips were silent,

but something inside her chest was still screaming.

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> “You came… and then you left… why?”

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She stared at that same stone for a long time —

the one under which she had found the note written by Abu Zar.

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As if that stone now marked the grave of her entire love.

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🧣 "That Scarf Still Trembled"

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She wrapped the light scarf her mother gave her tightly around herself.

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> “By losing you, I am finding myself, Abu Zar…”

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For the first time, she had said these words out loud.

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She was no longer just a girl waiting.

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She was becoming a woman

who did not break in someone’s memory —

but rose from it, to become her own voice.

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🌬️ "Letters of the Heart That Were Never Sent..."

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After that night, Zoboria stayed at the same small hotel in Cappadocia

where the sky stretched endlessly over the hills.

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Each night, she wrote a letter to Abu Zar.

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But not to send it.

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Just to give a voice to that silence

which still hid between her breaths.

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> “Abu Zar,

I still love you,

but the way I love has changed now.”

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> “I don’t ask you questions anymore —

I just search for answers within myself.”

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📖 "Safwan — The Story on the Other Side"

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Meanwhile, in Delhi,

Safwan still carried a line written by Zoboria in his wallet:

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> “If someone gets tired waiting for you… will you ever call them back?”

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He had read that line hundreds of times now.

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And each time, his heart whispered —

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> “Maybe she didn’t ask me — she asked herself…”

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Safwan had changed now.

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He no longer insisted on claiming love.

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He just prayed —

that the one he loved

would find peace in her soul.

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🌠 "Zoboria’s Diary — A New Beginning"

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Returning from that same hilltop in Cappadocia, Zoboria wrote in her diary for the first time:

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> “I won’t try to bind love anymore.

If someone wants to leave — let them.

If someone wants to return — they will.

But I will no longer lose myself in waiting.”

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Her eyes now held fewer tears — and more light.

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🌿 "A Meeting That Never Happened — Yet It Did…"

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Three weeks later,

one evening she returned to that same hill.

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The snow had thinned,

the air was warmer —

and something frozen within her had started to melt.

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She saw, placed on the same old stone,

a new note.

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📜 "The Second Letter — From Abu Zar"

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> “I knew you’d come again.

That’s why I left this second letter where I left the first one.

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> Zoboria,

I’m no longer afraid of loving.

I’m no longer running from your trust.

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> If you can walk once more…

I want to walk with you —

this time, not in silence,

but speaking every moment we live.”

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> — Abu Zar

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🌧️ "But the Heart Still Trembled…"

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Zoboria didn’t cry as she read the letter.

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She just sat there in silence for a long time.

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Then slowly folded the note, tied it in the corner of her scarf, and began walking down the hill.

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She knew Abu Zar was close — but she didn’t rush to find him.

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> Because this time,

if Abu Zar had truly returned — he had to choose the path on his own.

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🌉 "Safwan’s Silent Love"

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That evening in Delhi’s library,

Safwan put back the same Ghalib book.

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He had come to believe now — love is not fulfilled just by saying it.

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> “Sometimes, love means stepping out of the way…

so the one you love can find themselves.”

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He never wrote Zoboria a letter.

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But every Friday,

he placed a rose on that bench.

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Maybe one day, she would return and see it…

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💫 "One True Love — Two Paths"

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Abu Zar, who returned —

because he realized Zoboria could survive without him,

but might be more whole with him.

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And Safwan, who once stood close —

but whose love was pure enough

to let go without asking.

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🌒 "Zoboria — No Longer Belonging to Anyone, But Herself"

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Zoboria was no longer an unfinished story.

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She still loved —

but now love wasn’t her chain, it was her strength.

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She no longer diminished herself for anyone else.

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She had become like the wind —

that never returns,

but is never forgotten by those it touches.

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📱 "A Post — That Reached Abu Zar… and the Whole World"

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Returning from the hill, Zoboria didn’t reach for a diary or old papers.

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She picked up her phone.

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Her fingers hovered over the screen for a long time.

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Then she opened Instagram…

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Typed, deleted, retyped…

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And finally posted.

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🌌 Zoboria’s Instagram Post:

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> “Four years ago, a boy once told me —

If you ever get lost, meet me on that hill where the sky touches the earth…

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> I reached there.

He came too.

But we didn’t meet.

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> Because maybe now,

our silence was holier than any meeting.

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> He who had left…

he returned.

But now, I am the one lost within myself.

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> If you’re reading this —

know this,

I’m still right there

where you last left me.”

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#MyBlankLove

#NeverSentButFelt

#WohJoKahiNahiGayaParRaha

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⏳ "In Just a Few Minutes…"

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Within minutes, the post exploded with comments and shares.

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People began calling it their love story.

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> “This is my story…”

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> “I had the same kind of unfinished meeting…”

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> “Can love really be this real?”

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Twitter, Facebook, Instagram — everywhere #MyBlankLove started trending.

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📱 Abu Zar — On the Other Side of the Screen

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In a bookstore in Istanbul,

Abu Zar was checking emails on his laptop

when a message popped up from a friend:

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> “Bro, isn’t this her?!”

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He clicked the link.

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The same post opened on his screen.

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He stared at it —

read every line twice.

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Then whispered softly:

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> “Zoboria…”

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His eyes welled up.

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He was stunned — even though he already knew.

She was still there… frozen in that moment.

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📱 Safwan — In Delhi’s Library

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Safwan searched Zoboria’s name every few days.

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Today, the post showed up right on top.

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His heart trembled.

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> “She said it all in front of the world…

but never once to me…”

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He didn’t like the post.

He just looked at it —

for a long time.

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Then switched off his phone.

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🧓 Zoboria’s Father — In Lucknow

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A relative forwarded the post:

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> “Isn’t this your Zoboria?”

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Her father read it.

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His heart stopped for a moment.

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For four years, he’d only heard her name — not her voice.

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For two years, she hadn’t picked up a single call.

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But today, for the first time —

he felt her voice… through a post.

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> “My daughter is still living with that pain…”

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👵 Her Mother — Reading the Same Post

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A mother’s heart always feels too much.

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Her hands trembled as she read.

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> “Why didn’t she ever tell us?”

“Was she that alone?”

“Did she only need love… and we stayed silent?”

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Tears wouldn’t stop falling.

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📞 Abu Zar's Call

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Zoboria sat curled up in the corner of her room.

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After posting, there was a strange calm… and a deeper restlessness.

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Suddenly, her phone rang.

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No name — just a number.

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Her heart raced.

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She picked it up with trembling hands.

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> “Zoboria…”

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It was Abu Zar’s voice.

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She felt as if an old promise had suddenly bloomed again.

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She couldn’t speak.

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Her eyes just filled up.

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> “I read your post…”

“I came that day… but I got scared seeing you.”

“Not anymore…”

“I want to come to you now —

to the Zoboria who has found herself again.”

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---

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🌙 Zoboria’s Reply

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After a long pause, she said only this:

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> “If you’ve truly returned, Abu Zar…

then don’t come to me —

walk with me.”

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126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4BB2Tf0moO

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They both stayed silent on the call.

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But that silence was now a vow of love.

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---

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🛫 The Flight Booked

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Abu Zar booked the next flight to Cappadocia.

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This time, he wanted to return without silence.

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Not to that same hill —

but to the place

where Zoboria was learning to smile again.

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126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4hC0CHLuul

---

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📍 Lucknow, 10:45 PM

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Zoboria’s post had gone viral.

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Media, blogs, Instagram reels — everyone was talking about her.

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But in a quiet home in Lucknow,

more than any trend,

what echoed was a mother’s silence

and a father’s broken gaze.

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Her mother couldn’t close the pages of the Quran —

because her tears blurred her sight.

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Her father sat in the same corner

where Zoboria once used to throw her schoolbag.

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🧓 Her Father’s Silence

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> “Why did she stop talking to us?”

“Were we really that wrong?”

“Is cutting everyone off… the only way to hide pain?”

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His voice was shaking.

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Her mother said just one thing:

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> “We need to talk to our daughter.

No matter what state she’s in…

we’ll accept her with open arms.”

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126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡk1bbyi2UrE

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---

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📞 The Phone Dialed — After Four Years

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Her mother, with trembling hands, dialed the number

she had saved but never called in two years.

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It rang…

once… twice…

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On the sixth ring, it connected.

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Screen: “Maa Calling”

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---

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🌙 Cappadocia — Hotel Room

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Zoboria was drying her hair.

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The phone vibrated.

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She looked —

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Screen read: “Ammi”

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Her heart thudded.

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She pulled her fingers back in hesitation.

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Held her breath.

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> “Is this real? Or just a misdial?”

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The phone kept ringing.

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---

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📞 The Call Answered

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> “Zobo…”

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It was her mother’s voice.

Faint… trembling.

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Tears spilled from Zoboria’s eyes.

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She said nothing.

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡz1M7fYn569

> “Beta… just listen.”

“We never forgave you — because we never understood you.”

“But now… now we just want to love you.”

“All that you couldn’t say — we now want to understand.”

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHiMuiwj2Ch

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPFLe5bkpTU

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Zoboria broke down in tears.

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---

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🧓 Her Father’s Voice — After Four Years

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7wDJxl7qXF

> “Zoboria…”

“Beta, we want to live again… with you.”

“I read your post — and finally understood something…”

“You didn’t run from pain —

you stayed silent to save us from breaking.”

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPf84TZrBip

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlcw0YlAj4u

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> “Now we want to hold you — without breaking.”

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---

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🕯️ That Night — A Parent’s Love Was Reborn

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Zoboria couldn’t say much on that call.

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She just whispered:

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> “I was so tired…

but your voices brought me back to life.”

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> “I’ll come home…

not as Zoboria the woman —

but as your daughter.”

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---

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💫 The Next Morning

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Zoboria stood in her hotel balcony and looked at the sky.

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For the first time,

her soul found peace not in love —

but in a relationship.

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Now, she had Abu Zar’s return,

and her parents’ embrace.

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She was no longer the girl

who built walls of silence.

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She had become the woman

who embraced her truth — without fear, without hiding.

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---

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✨ To be continued…

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---

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ50ERVp5VaZ

My Blank Love –

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"Some letters are never posted, they just stay buried in the folds of the heart."

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---

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The evening light had begun to fade.

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Zoboria was still sitting by the same bench,

her face resting on her knees,

and the tears from her eyes were soaking into the soil —

the same soil where Abu Zarr’s footsteps once left their warmth.

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She wished time would pause —

or rewind.

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Just once…

if only once, Abu Zarr had turned back to ask:

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> “Are you still waiting for me?”

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---

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🌬️ "The wind and a forgotten moment"

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Just then, the wind picked up again — a little stronger this time.

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A torn page from a nearby old book fluttered to her feet.

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With trembling fingers, Zoboria picked it up and read:

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> “The kind of love that lives outside of words

often lies silent in a forgotten corner.”

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Her heart skipped a beat.

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It was Abu Zarr’s handwriting —

just the way he used to leave notes in his old notebooks.

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---

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📬 "An unfinished letter"

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She rushed to the bench

— the place where she had first seen the flicker of his presence.

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Underneath, a small envelope lay pressed into the wood.

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No address.

Only one line scrawled on the front:

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> “To Zoboria — The One I Could Never Say Goodbye To”

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126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8YHhBFqueS

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---

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With shaking hands, she opened it.

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Inside was a letter —

a voice frozen in a broken moment.

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---

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✉️

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQvmaiF1Cvc

> “Zoboria,

I know when you read this,

I won’t be standing in front of you anymore.

But not once have I forgotten you.

You were in every line of every book,

and your name echoed through every silent night.

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126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbcmqp9brLf

I never left you…

I left only to protect you

from a love I had no right to offer —

nothing but more wounds.

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I was afraid, Zoboria.

Afraid of that trust in your eyes

that I had never held even for myself.

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But if you ever find your way back…

I will still be there —

where you last stopped searching for me.

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— Abu Zarr.”

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---

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💔 "He had never left..."

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Zoboria froze.

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She clutched the book tightly to her chest,

as if his final breath still lived in its pages.

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She understood now —

what she had felt wasn’t a dream.

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Abu Zarr had never truly left.

He had always remained

right where she’d last let go of his memory.

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126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEJxcGR1ZiG

---

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🛫 "An unfinished flight, and a new departure"

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That evening, she tore up her university resignation letter.

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She didn’t go back to the hostel.

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Instead, she booked a new flight —

not to India this time…

but to Cappadocia.

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Because Abu Zarr had once said:

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> “If we ever get lost…

meet me on that mountain where the sky touches the earth.”

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> “Sometimes the one who loves you the most is the one you understand the latest.”

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---

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📚 "Safwan’s Library"

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The old university library —

it no longer felt filled with books.

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Every corner now seemed haunted

by the soft laughter of Zoboria.

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Safwan sat on an empty bench —

the same one where he had first seen her.

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That moment lived in his memory —

Zoboria in a blue saree,

half her face hidden behind a book,

like an unfinished poem waiting to be read.

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---

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Now, the bench held nothing.

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No book.

No girl.

No words.

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Just silence.

And in Safwan’s eyes —

a fading hope he wasn’t ready to bury.

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> “Zoboria…” he whispered,

like a name long forgotten suddenly found again.

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126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiy5YhOQFQN

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSY2ZurfzmK

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJkSkHWb9pJ

---

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🕰️ "Time had stopped there"

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His eyes searched for her everywhere.

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Behind the shelves,

at the bend in the staircase,

in the soft light falling through the corridor windows…

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6KSl21CL6K

Everywhere, he only saw one face —

Zoboria’s.

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> “Where did you go?”

“Why did you leave without a word?”

“All I ever wanted… was for you to pause and look my way.”

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126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDBgsC8eYYt

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---

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He walked toward the bookshelves.

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There — tucked in a corner —

was Ghalib’s Ghazals.

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4eOVunTyHe

Zoboria’s favorite.

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNHIycAyxXe

He opened it gently.

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5K4FdXW2oZ

Inside, a folded paper was pressed between the pages.

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126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcmKhpz0lVM

---

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📝 "An unfinished line"

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyufsNNBy4p

In her handwriting, only one line:

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8Keh87KEde

> “If someone grows tired waiting for you…

will you still call them back?”

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLixDMDYtBK

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwTsk6o0d8L

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡudHCbhwp28

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJyyPTWQhj8

---

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJ6dCWjNguL

Safwan’s eyes welled up.

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRsZaTbOzEj

For the first time,

he realized he had never really seen Zoboria.

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Not her silence,

not her loneliness,

not the fears she had hidden inside every smile.

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡA1b91sshdH

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxIRvy6gVNq

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🌧️ "The first drops of rain"

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNc40dkj6Qk

Rain began to fall outside the library window.

126Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2N62WiOOjr

Safwan stood there,

his finger tracing the line she had written.

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> “I used to think you never understood my love…”

“But maybe… you did. You were just afraid.”

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He stepped out of the library.

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The paper still in his hand.

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He knew she wasn’t there anymore.

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Maybe in another city.

Maybe in another silence.

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But her name —

had now become a prayer in every breath he took.

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🏙️ "The one who left — but never really left"

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That evening, Safwan stood on the university terrace

and looked up at the sky.

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He whispered:

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> “God, if You won’t return her to me…

at least give her peace from her questions.

Wherever she is —

let her be free.”

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And in that very moment —

on the mountaintop of Cappadocia…

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Zoboria heard a voice echo softly:

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> “You were always my truest story, Zoboria.

And if you allow it…

I want to begin again —

from the place you stopped writing.”

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💫 "Stories always return to where they began"

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On one side was Safwan —

the one who understood too late…

but loved truly.

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On the other, Abu Zarr —

the one who left…

but never let go.

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And in the middle stood Zoboria —

no longer begging to be loved,

no longer asking to be seen.

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She now longed for just one thing:

A space where her love could be understood —

not rewritten.

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🌌 "My Blank Love — still unfinished, but finally real."

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