The next day, Hadi finally made the decision. He cleared his calendar, postponed meetings, and called his assistant to rearrange appointments.
By late afternoon, he found himself seated in his car, the road to Nashik stretching long and quiet ahead of him.
---
Back in Nashik, Maira sat cross-legged on the living room carpet, a half-embroidered cushion cover resting in her lap. The soft hum of the ceiling fan filled the air as the embroidery needle moved rhythmically between her fingers. The quiet comforted her.
Rubina returned home earlier than usual that day, her face lighting up as she walked through the door.
“You won’t believe this!” Rubina said, dropping her handbag on the table and walking toward her.
Maira looked up, curious. “What happened?”
Rubina’s smile grew wider. “Hadi bhai is coming.”
Maira’s heart gave a small, unexpected jolt at those words. She froze for a second before composing herself. “When?”
“Today,” Rubina beamed. “He’s already on his way.”
Maira’s lips parted, but no words came. Instead, she simply nodded, feeling a swirl of emotions rise within her, surprise, nervousness, and a strange warmth she couldn’t quite define.
Rubina, sensing her silence, softened her tone. “Don’t overthink, okay? You’ve both handled this so maturely till now. Let’s just… take it one step at a time.”
Maira smiled faintly and nodded again. “Yes.”
But deep inside, her heart fluttered, not with hope, but with an unfamiliar anticipation.
---
The evening sun had begun to dip, casting an orange-pink hue across the Nashik skyline. The soft breeze carried the faint scent of blooming jasmine from the nearby garden as Maira stood near the window, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the corner of her dupatta.
Every passing minute made her heartbeat grow heavier, like tiny drums pounding gently in her chest. She kept telling herself to stay calm. He’s just coming to visit, she reminded herself. That’s all.
Rubina, meanwhile, was bustling around, preparing tea, arranging the cushions, ensuring everything looked perfect. She stole a glance at Maira and chuckled softly. “Relax. You look like you’re about to give a job interview.”
Maira let out a small, nervous laugh. “I don’t know why I’m this anxious,” she confessed, her voice almost a whisper. “It’s not like I haven’t seen him before.”
Rubina walked over and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s natural. You’ve both been through a lot. But remember, he’s not a stranger.”
Before Maira could respond, the doorbell rang.
Both women froze for a brief second, exchanging glances.
“I’ll get it,” Rubina offered quickly and made her way to the door.
The sound of the door unlocking echoed louder than usual in Maira’s ears. She watched from the corner, her hands still nervously clutching the dupatta, which she had now abruptly placed over her head.
And then he was there.
Hadi stepped inside, dressed in a simple pale-blue shirt and dark jeans, his face tired but still carrying the same warmth. His eyes scanned the apartment, landing softly on Rubina first as she smiled and greeted him.
“Welcome back, Hadi bhai,” she said with genuine warmth.
“Thank you,” Hadi replied with a faint smile.
And then his eyes finally found Maira.
For a brief moment, time seemed to pause.
Maira’s eyes met his, unsure, hesitant, but holding a quiet strength. She offered him a polite, soft smile, lowering her gaze quickly as if afraid to hold his for too long.
Hadi’s heart twisted at the sight of her. She looked so much better than when he had left, her face held more color, her posture stronger. But her eyes… they still held traces of unspoken emotions. The weight of the entire situation washed over him again in that instant.
He took a cautious step forward. “Assalamualaikum”
(Peace be upon you)
“Waalaikumassalam,” Maira replied, her voice calm, her smile gentle.
There was an odd silence that followed, filled with unsaid words neither of them dared to voice.
Rubina, sensing the tension, quickly spoke up, “You must be tired from the drive, Hadi bhai. Sit, I’ll bring some tea.”
Hadi nodded, taking a seat on the couch, while Rubina disappeared into the kitchen, giving them a moment of privacy.
Maira sat across from him, her hands folded in her lap, trying to appear composed. She wasn’t sure what to say. There was a storm of thoughts swirling in her mind, but she kept her smile intact.
“How have you been?” Hadi finally broke the silence, his voice soft, sincere.
“I’m much better now, Alhamdulillah,” Maira answered. “The doctor says I’ve recovered almost completely… just a few minor aches left.”
Hadi’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “That’s good to hear. You’ve done well.”
“I had help,” she smiled, glancing toward the kitchen where Rubina was busy preparing tea. “She’s taken care of me like an elder sister.”
“I'm sorry I couldn't come earlier,” Hadi said sincerely, his gaze lowering with guilt.
Maira quickly shook her head. “Please… don’t apologize. You’ve done so much already. And you have responsibilities too. I understand.”
The humility in her voice made Hadi’s guilt deepen. He wanted to explain, to tell her how his life back home kept pulling him in every direction. But the words wouldn’t form. What right did he have to burden her further?
Rubina returned with the tea tray, breaking the silence and filling the room with a more casual comfort. She served them both and sat beside Maira.
The three of them talked lightly after that, about Rubina’s work, about the embroidery Maira was learning, even sharing a few jokes here and there. The heavy tension slowly began to ease, replaced by a simple, warm familiarity.
Yet, somewhere deep inside, both Hadi and Maira knew this calm was fragile, like a delicate thread that could snap if either of them pulled too hard.
---
The evening gradually slipped into night, wrapping the apartment in its calm embrace. The sounds of Nashik’s distant traffic faded into a soft hum, while the cool breeze carried the faint aroma of rain-soaked earth through the partially open windows.
Dinner was simple that night, Rubina had cooked some daal, jeera rice, and fried okra, insisting that Hadi should eat something before resting.
The three of them sat at the small dining table. The clinking of spoons against plates was the only sound accompanying their otherwise quiet meal.
Rubina, always sensitive to the atmosphere, tried to keep the conversation light, talking about a recent event at the NGO, her colleagues, the little children she was working with. She was grateful that both Hadi and Maira responded politely, occasionally smiling at her stories. But under that polite mask, both of them were immersed in their own swirling thoughts.
Maira stole glances at Hadi throughout the meal. The man sitting across from her had changed everything for her in a matter of weeks. She owed her safety, her very life, to him. And yet, sitting across from him now, she felt a strange emptiness. Not because of him, but because of the wall that existed between them, a wall neither dared to breach.
He was polite, kind, respectful, always careful not to overstep any boundary. But that care itself became a boundary she could never cross. She could see the faint lines of exhaustion on his face, the heaviness he carried in his shoulders, and yet she dared not ask more than what was appropriate.
For Hadi, the dinner table felt heavier than usual.
Each time his gaze fell on Maira, a strange guilt tightened in his chest. Seeing her now, healthier, stronger, her hair tucked neatly beneath her dupatta, her face fuller than the frail, wounded girl he had once carried into the hospital, made him feel both relieved and regretful.
He had not spoken to her for two months. Not once. Every update came through Rubina. And though work and family obligations pulled him away, some part of him feared facing her directly. Because every conversation reminded him of the strange truth of their marriage, a truth he could neither run from nor embrace fully.
When dinner ended, Maira quietly began clearing the plates while Rubina headed to the kitchen to help. Hadi stood awkwardly in the living room, feeling like an outsider in a life he had partially created but never fully belonged to.
Minutes later, Rubina returned with a smile. "You must be tired after the drive, Hadi bhai. The guest room is ready."
"Thank you, Rubina," Hadi said softly. "I appreciate everything you’ve done."
Rubina simply smiled. "It's nothing." Then she excused herself to get some rest, sensing the need to leave them space.
Maira walked back to the living room, wiping her hands with a towel. Hadi looked at her, debating whether to speak or simply wish her goodnight. But before he could decide, she spoke first.
"Thank you... for coming," she said, her voice gentle, almost hesitant.
He smiled faintly. "I still wish I could have come sooner."
"I understand," she said. "You have a life, responsibilities… I never expected you to put everything on hold for me."
Her words made his stomach twist.
"But I did put you in this situation," he confessed, his voice a bit heavier. "I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay the price you had to pay because of my recklessness that night."
Maira lowered her gaze, her fingers tightening around the towel. “You saved my life. I don’t hold anything against you.”
There was a pause between them. Both aware of the depth their words carried, yet neither crossing that invisible line.
Finally, Hadi exhaled softly. “You should rest. Goodnight, Maira.”
“Goodnight,” she whispered, offering him a small smile before disappearing into her room.
---
Later that night, the apartment was immersed in silence, except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and the soft hum of the ceiling fan.
Hadi lay on the bed in the guest room, staring at the ceiling. Sleep evaded him, as it often did these days. His mind, a battlefield of conflicting emotions, refused to quiet.
He thought of Lubna, her radiant smile when he had returned home, Zohan running into his arms, his tiny arms circling his neck. The warmth of his home. The life he had built with her. A life he loved and cherished.
But alongside those memories, the image of Maira haunted him like a quiet shadow.
The sight of her standing by the window earlier that evening, her hair neatly tucked beneath her dupatta, her eyes carrying a storm of emotions she never voiced, it gnawed at him.
He had done what was necessary. He had married her to protect her from the ugly consequences that could have followed that accident. His intentions had been pure. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel that no matter how much money he sent or how many times he visited, it would never be enough.
How much more must she endure because of me? he wondered.
And then there was Rubina, who had taken on more than anyone ever asked of her. His admiration and gratitude for her were immeasurable.
As his eyes began to grow heavier, one final thought crossed his mind: How long can I keep balancing these two worlds?
Sleep eventually pulled him under, but his dreams remained restless.
---
In Maira’s room
Maira sat by her window, her head leaning against the frame, her eyes tracing the glowing city lights.
She should be asleep, but her heart was far too restless tonight.
Seeing Hadi again had stirred emotions she couldn’t fully understand. She barely knew him. But she couldn’t deny the comfort his presence brought her. The way he spoke, the way he carried himself, the way he cared for both her and Rubina, all of it felt like a warmth she had been starved of for years.
And yet, every time she allowed herself to feel something, reality cruelly pulled her back. He belongs to someone else. His son calls him ‘Papa.’ His wife waits for him back home.
She never once dreamed of taking anyone’s place. If anything, she was grateful that Lubna existed, because if she didn’t, Hadi might have never been able to help her as selflessly as he had.
But gratitude didn’t stop the ache in her chest.
“I don’t deserve to feel this way,” she whispered to herself.
A small tear slid down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away.
I should be focusing on getting better, she scolded herself.
Her mind wandered to Rubina, who had become her safe haven. Without her, these last two months would have broken her completely. Rubina's laughter, her scoldings, her constant care had made this strange life bearable.
She silently prayed for her, grateful for the sister she never had.
Tonight was difficult, but she promised herself it would pass.
She closed her eyes tightly, letting the soft breeze lull her into eventual sleep.
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
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