Hadi sighed heavily as he ended the call with Rubina, the soft beep from his phone echoing into the stillness of his study. He placed the phone face-down on the desk and leaned back into his chair, running both hands through his hair in frustration, his fingers momentarily gripping his scalp as if trying to massage the tension away.
The warm glow of the sun light illuminated the scattered papers and files spread across his mahogany table, casting long shadows on the walls of the room. It was past 3.30 PM, but work had piled up relentlessly. The burden of responsibilities felt heavier tonight, far heavier than the weight of mere paperwork.
His mind kept circling back to Nashik, to the conversation with Rubina, to Maira.
I have to go back. I should go back, he thought, guilt slowly curling inside his chest.
But no matter how much his heart pulled him toward Nashik, reality stood like a wall between him and his intentions. Work commitments were pressing from all sides, his absence from the office already being felt, and now, as if mocking his situation, life had thrown another challenge his way, Zohan had fallen sick.
The small boy’s weak, occasional cough echoed faintly from the nursery down the hallway, pulling at Hadi’s already strained emotions. Zohan had been running a mild fever for two days, his tiny frame growing weaker under the weight of the cold that refused to leave.
How can I leave him like this? Hadi’s heart ached at the thought. His son needed him.
Lubna, despite her best efforts, had been consumed by her own work deadlines. She had a major client presentation scheduled for tomorrow, one she had been preparing for weeks now. He had initially insisted that she stay home, but Lubna had gently but firmly refused, promising that she would return early.
And so, Hadi made the only choice that seemed right, he opted to work from home, juggling calls and files in between tending to his son. But now, even that decision weighed heavily on him.
I’ve failed both women, he thought bitterly. Maira is alone there, and Rubina has done more for her than I have. And here, my son is unwell, and I can’t even focus fully on him.
The guilt gnawed at him from both ends, leaving him feeling like he was stretched far too thin, unable to give anyone the full care they deserved.
Suddenly, loud cries broke through the silence like a sharp knife.
“Papa! Papaaa!” Zohan’s voice rang out from the nursery, filled with distress.
Hadi’s breath caught for a moment, and in an instant, he was on his feet, rushing out of the study, his heartbeat quickening with every step.
The thoughts about Rubina’s call, Maira’s condition, his responsibilities, and his failures all dissolved like mist in the face of his son’s cries.
He entered the dimly lit nursery where Zohan sat upright in his crib, his cheeks flushed, small tears glistening in his round eyes. His nose was slightly runny, his breath heavy between the sobs.
“I’m here, beta, I’m here,” Hadi whispered as he scooped Zohan into his arms, holding him close to his chest. He gently rocked him back and forth, rubbing his tiny back in slow circles, trying to calm him.
“Shhh… it’s okay, my love. Papa is here.”
The little boy whimpered softly, burying his face into Hadi’s neck, clutching the collar of his shirt tightly with his tiny fists. The warmth of his son’s fragile body against his own brought a wave of protectiveness that nearly choked him.
In that moment, Hadi’s entire world shrunk down to this, his child in his arms. Everything else, Lubna, Nashik, Maira, work, Rubina’s concerns, blurred into the background.
He carried Zohan to the rocking chair and sat down, humming softly, pressing gentle kisses to the boy’s hair. Slowly, Zohan’s breathing steadied, his sobs subsiding into quiet sniffles. His little hand still rested against his father’s chest, as if making sure he wouldn’t disappear again.
As his son drifted back to sleep, Hadi rested his cheek against Zohan’s head and closed his eyes for a moment, his heart aching once again.
How did my life get so complicated? he whispered inwardly.
But for now, there was only one thing that mattered, holding his son. And for a few stolen moments in the quiet night, he allowed himself to forget everything else.
---
Zohan recovered fully within a week. The fever faded, and his laughter returned to fill the house, bringing a brief sense of relief to Hadi. But just as one storm cleared, another gathered on the horizon. Hadi’s workload intensified at an almost brutal pace. Projects piled up, meetings stretched longer, and deadlines kept him locked inside boardrooms and his study for endless hours. Each day, he promised himself he would make time to visit Nashik, but each day slipped away like grains of sand through his fingers.
And so, another month passed, just like that, quietly, almost cruelly fast.
---
Back in Nashik, life began to settle into a new rhythm for both Maira and Rubina. This second month felt lighter than the first, though shadows still lingered in the background. The weight of uncertainty was still there, but it no longer pressed on Maira’s chest quite as heavily.
On Maira’s constant insistence, Rubina had finally agreed to rejoin her work. Her months-long leave had been a sacrifice Maira deeply appreciated, but she no longer wanted Rubina to put her life on hold for her. And so, every morning, Rubina would dress up, pack her lunch, and head to work, leaving Maira alone in the quiet apartment.
The silence no longer suffocated Maira the way it once did. In fact, she found a strange sense of comfort in it now.
The apartment, though simple, felt safe, like a cocoon that held her gently while she healed.
During the long hours of solitude, Maira found herself drawn towards little hobbies. Rubina had taught her embroidery, the delicate art of threading patterns onto fabric. What began as a way to pass time soon became a source of peace. Sitting by the large window in her room, with the afternoon sunlight pouring in, Maira would stitch vibrant flowers, leaves, and vines onto old handkerchiefs and pillowcases. Each small, precise movement of the needle felt like a quiet rebellion against the chaos her life had been swallowed by for so long.
When she wasn’t stitching, she found herself experimenting in the small kitchen. Rubina had stocked the pantry with essentials, and Maira enjoyed trying new recipes she read online or watched on YouTube. The apartment would fill with the comforting aroma of freshly baked bread, simmering curries, or sweet kheer, giving her a small sense of achievement, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.
In the evenings, after her short walks in the society garden, she would often sit on the bench under the large banyan tree, watching children play, elderly couples take their strolls, and young mothers chasing after toddlers. Life moved on for everyone. And slowly, it was moving on for her too.
There were moments, of course, when her thoughts would drift back to Hadi. But those moments weren’t filled with longing or pain like before. Instead, they carried a quiet understanding. She had accepted that Hadi was never at fault for what happened. He had done what he could, and more. The ache she had once felt at his absence wasn’t because she had fallen in love with him, no, not yet, but rather because, after so many years of loneliness and grief, someone had finally seen her. Someone had made her feel safe. Cared for. Respected.
That feeling was still new. And precious.
She often wondered what he was doing. Was he okay? Was his son better now? She never voiced these questions to Rubina, and Rubina never brought up Hadi either, except for their brief weekly calls to update him on Maira’s medical condition.
Hadi had sent a generous amount of money during these two months, which Rubina managed and kept safely aside. Maira never once touched the account. She didn’t feel like it was hers to use, but she never argued with Rubina about it either. She understood that Hadi was simply trying to take responsibility in his own way.
One afternoon, when Rubina returned from the NGO, Maira gently broached a question that had been on her mind for weeks now.
“Rubina Di… can I come with you to the NGO someday? Maybe I can find a small job too... something simple, just to keep myself busy?”
But Rubina immediately shook her head. “No, sweetheart. Not now. You’ve come a long way, but you’re still healing. Dr. Zafar still hasn’t stopped your medication completely. And besides,” she smiled softly, “there’s no hurry. You need to be kind to yourself right now.”
Maira knew she was right. Her body still ached occasionally, her abdomen reminding her of the accident even as the external wounds had faded. But more than that, Rubina’s words comforted her in a way she didn’t expect, someone was looking out for her. She wasn’t alone anymore.
For now, this is enough, Maira reminded herself. For now, I’ll just breathe.
---
It was late evening. The house was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a desk lamp in Hadi’s study. The ticking of the wall clock seemed unusually loud tonight as Hadi sat behind his desk, his eyes skimming across yet another file, though his mind was far from the words on paper.
For weeks, a constant tug-of-war had played inside him. The guilt gnawed at him every day, guilt for leaving Maira alone for this long, guilt for burdening Rubina who had already done so much, guilt for not finding a way to fix the situation sooner. Every time he thought of Nashik, his chest tightened with an unfamiliar heaviness.
But life had its way of chaining him down. Yet tonight, something inside him shifted. He couldn’t shake off Rubina’s voice from their last call, how she hesitated before hanging up, how tired she sounded. She had never complained, but he heard what she didn’t say.
He leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as he exhaled heavily.
It’s been two months already... he thought bitterly.
I promised myself this was temporary. And yet…
A soft knock interrupted his spiraling thoughts. It was Lubna.
She peeked inside, wearing one of her soft pastel nightgowns, her hair tied loosely. “Love?” she called softly.
Hadi’s gaze softened immediately. “Hmm?”
“Are you going to be up much longer?” she asked, stepping inside.
Hadi managed a small smile. “Just a few minutes more. Go to bed, I’ll join you soon.”
She walked up to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind, resting her cheek against his head. “You’ve been overworking yourself again. You barely sleep anymore.”
He placed his hand gently on hers, squeezing it lightly. “I’ll manage.”
She sighed. “I hate seeing you like this.” After a pause, she added in a hopeful tone, “Maybe we should take a break, plan a small trip. We haven’t gone anywhere since Zohan was born.”
The suggestion twisted the knife of guilt inside him even deeper.
He hesitated. For a moment, the words hovered at the tip of his tongue, Lubna, I need to tell you something… about Nashik… about Maira. But then her eyes met his, soft, trusting, loving, and he couldn’t do it. Again.
How could he do this to her? His own wife? The one woman he loved the most? How could he hurt her?
Instead, he nodded with a weak smile. “Maybe soon.”
Lubna kissed his temple softly and left the room.
As the door closed behind her, Hadi exhaled shakily, burying his face in his hands for a long moment.
Tomorrow.
I’ll make time tomorrow.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxXr62adXDy
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