Time, as they say, moves differently depending on your state of mind. For Maira, the days had both dragged and flown. It had already been a full month since Hadi had left. The calendar on the wall was proof of time passing, silent, constant, even when her emotions felt suspended somewhere between yesterday and tomorrow.
Her external injuries had almost fully healed. The bruises that once covered her arms and legs had faded into faint yellow patches, barely visible now. Only an occasional ache remained, especially around her abdomen, but Dr. Zafar had reassured her during the last appointment that it was completely normal and would eventually fade. She could now walk around the apartment freely, no longer needing Rubina’s constant assistance. Her strength was slowly returning, step by careful step.
Yet even as her body healed, her mind had been on its own complicated journey.
In these weeks, Maira had quietly begun to understand her situation better. The initial fog of pain, fear, and confusion had started to lift, leaving clarity in its place. She had come to accept that the nikaah had been a desperate measure, a decision made under extreme circumstances, not one born out of love or desire, but necessity. And despite everything, she had never truly blamed Hadi. Not for the accident, not for the marriage. She knew he had done more than anyone else would have in his place. He had not only saved her life but had taken responsibility for a girl who, to him, was a complete stranger.
What weighed on her heart the most wasn't heartbreak over lost love, at least, not yet. No. The hollow ache she had felt when he left stemmed from something much deeper. For the first time since her parents' death, she had felt seen. Truly seen. She had felt cared for. Hadi’s presence in those brief few days had given her something she hadn’t realized she was starving for, tenderness. Security. Simple, genuine concern.
The way he would gently hold her arm to steady her when she walked. The way he would quietly ensure she ate every meal. The way he had never once let his gaze linger disrespectfully, always maintaining a respectful distance, even when the world would assume otherwise. Those small, quiet gestures had carved an unspoken respect for him deep into her heart.
But love? No, not yet. She was careful to keep her heart from wandering down that path. Love, she knew, came with expectations, expectations she didn’t want to place on Hadi. Not when he had a family, a wife, a son, a life far away from this apartment. She had no right to ask for more. And she never would.
Rubina’s presence, meanwhile, had been nothing short of a blessing, a sister she never had, a confidante she didn't know she needed. Rubina had filled the quiet apartment with laughter, warmth, and gentle discipline. She fussed over Maira’s meals, scolded her for skipping breakfast, playfully nagged her to finish her medications, and dragged her out for short evening walks once the doctor permitted.
Sometimes they would sit in the balcony, sipping tea as the sky turned shades of pink and gold, talking about life, about little things, about everything and nothing.
Yet, through all this time, neither of them ever mentioned Hadi. His name remained unspoken, like fragile glass neither wanted to shatter. The only time his presence entered their world was during the weekly updates, a brief call between Rubina and Hadi after each of Maira's doctor visits. Hadi would ask about Maira’s health, listen intently to Rubina’s updates, perhaps breathe a silent sigh of relief, and then hang up. He never spoke to Maira directly, nor did Maira ever insist. She understood. She didn’t expect it. She had long accepted that this wasn’t a normal situation. It wasn't a normal marriage.
He had his wife, the one he was with now, in a home filled with love and laughter. Maira had no bitterness in her heart about Lubna’s existence. If anything, she was grateful that Hadi had someone who made him happy. She couldn’t bring herself to wish for something that was never meant for her. Her only prayer was that none of this would disturb the peace of his first marriage, or his son’s happiness.
And for now, that was enough.
But there were still quiet nights when she would lie awake, staring at the ceiling fan as it whirred slowly above her head, wondering what would become of her life from here. What did the future hold? Would she always live in this strange limbo, married yet alone? She didn’t have the answers, but for now, she was choosing to heal, physically, emotionally, and mentally.
And she had Rubina, who made it all just a little bit easier.
---
The clock struck 3:15 p.m., the soft hum of the ceiling fan filling the quiet apartment. Lunch was done, the dishes stacked neatly in the sink. The faint aroma of freshly brewed chamomile tea still lingered in the air. Rubina sat on the edge of the couch, her phone pressed to her ear, waiting for Hadi to answer. The call finally connected.
“Assalamu alaikum, bhai,” Rubina greeted softly, her voice calm but carrying a trace of hesitation.
(Brother)
“Wa alaikum assalam, Rubina,” Hadi’s familiar voice came through the receiver, warm, but slightly tired. “How’s everything over there?”
“She’s doing much better, Alhamdulillah,” Rubina replied, glancing toward Maira’s closed room door. “Dr. Zafar says the internal pain will subside soon too. She’s walking on her own now, slowly but steady.”
“That’s a relief,” Hadi said with a soft sigh, the heaviness in his tone hard to miss. "Thank you for everything you're doing, Rubina. I don't know what I would’ve done without you.”
Rubina smiled faintly, but her heart felt heavy. “You don’t need to thank me, bhai. But actually... I called to speak about something important.”
There was a short pause on the other end. “Of course, go on.”
She shifted slightly, choosing her words carefully. “It’s been a month now... I need to return to work. They’ve already extended my leave for as long as they could. I can't stay away from work much longer. But I’m worried about leaving her alone. Even though Maira’s stronger, she’s not fully there yet. And… you know how quiet she gets sometimes.”
Hadi’s silence on the other end spoke volumes. He ran his hand through his hair, pacing in his study room, battling the guilt clawing at him.
“I know, Rubina... I know,” he finally said, his voice lower. “I’ve been thinking about it too. I hate that I’ve put you in this difficult situation. I wish things were simpler.”
Rubina sighed, her voice softening. “You don’t have to explain, bhai. We all know this situation isn’t easy for any of us.”
He exhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m trying, Rubina. Wallahi, I’m trying. But I can’t promise anything immediately. You know how things are here. Lubna… Zohan… work, everything’s demanding my attention right now. But I promise, I’ll try my best to make a visit soon.”
“I understand, bhai,” Rubina said gently, not wanting to press him further. “Just keep me updated.”
“I will. And... take care of yourself too.”
They exchanged their final salaams before Rubina ended the call, staring at the now-dark phone screen for a long second. A wave of helplessness washed over her. She had seen the sadness quietly building behind Maira’s brave smiles, and she hated the idea of leaving her alone just yet.
As she turned to place the phone on the table, she noticed movement near the kitchen door.
Maira stood there, leaning lightly against the frame, her long night scarf loosely wrapped around her shoulders, strands of hair falling softly against her face. She must have overheard the conversation.
“He said he will try and come soon,” Rubina informed her, forcing a reassuring smile.
Maira returned a faint smile of her own, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and nodded silently. She didn’t say anything, but inside, her emotions swirled in quiet waves.
He said he’ll try.
She didn’t expect anything more, and yet, hearing those words still left a hollow ache in her chest. She wasn’t disappointed, no, she had trained herself not to be, but the longing for any form of normalcy tugged gently at her heart. She missed the safety she had briefly known in his presence, but more than that, she missed feeling like she belonged somewhere.
Rubina patted the spot beside her on the couch. “Come, sit for a while.”
Maira walked over slowly, settling beside her, pulling her knees up slightly as she hugged them. The two women sat in silence for a few moments, letting the weight of the situation hang softly in the air.
“You’ve been so strong, Maira,” Rubina finally whispered, her voice full of sisterly warmth. “It won’t always feel like this, you know. One day, this ache will ease.”
Maira leaned her head lightly on Rubina’s shoulder, closing her eyes as a tear slipped out, quiet, unnoticed.
“InshaAllah,” she whispered back, barely audible.
(If Allah wills)
The night wrapped around them, heavy but oddly comforting, like two sisters holding on to each other, quietly waiting for life to show them the way forward.
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
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