The faint sound of utensils clinking and the scent of warm lentils stirred Maira from her restless sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was. Then the weight returned, the heaviness of the conversation she had braved earlier, the ache of saying what she thought was right.
She sat up slowly, her head still cloudy. As she stepped out of the room, Rubina turned from the kitchen, her face softening the moment she saw her.
“You’re awake,” she said gently, wiping her hands on her dupatta and walking over. “How are you feeling?”
Maira nodded faintly, her throat dry. “Okay, I guess.”
Rubina led her to the couch and handed her a glass of water. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Maira looked up, confused. “What is it?”
“Hadi bhai... he’s decided to take you with him to Mumbai.”
Maira froze, the glass paused mid-air. “What?”
“He thinks it’s best you stay under his care until you recover fully. He’s arranged everything.”
Maira shook her head quickly, panic rising in her chest. “No, Rubina Di, I can’t... I didn’t say all that so he could feel guilty and take me along. That’s not what I want.”
Rubina’s expression turned firm. “And what do you want, Maira? To stay here alone? You said you’d look for a job, how will you manage in this condition? Who’ll help you if something goes wrong?”
“I’ll manage,” Maira whispered, but her voice lacked strength. “I can’t be a burden.”
Rubina reached forward and held her hands, her tone unwavering. “You’re not a burden, Maira. Stop punishing yourself for needing someone. Hadi bhai isn’t doing this out of guilt. He’s doing it because he cares, whether he admits it or not.”
Tears filled Maira’s eyes again, the same ones she had tried to hide all morning. “But it’s not right... he has a life there, a wife... I don’t belong...”
“You belong to yourself first,” Rubina said firmly. “And right now, you need to heal. Let people help you. It’s okay to let someone take care of you for once.”
Just then, Hadi walked out of his room, his eyes immediately finding Maira’s.
He stood a little distance away, his voice steady yet soft. “Maira, I know this isn’t what you want. And I know you didn’t expect this. But I really can’t leave you here, not like this.”
Maira blinked back the tears that threatened to spill again. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
“I won’t force you,” he continued. “If you say no, I’ll respect it. But if you agree to come with me to Mumbai… I’d be glad. For your well-being. That’s all.”
The room went quiet except for the gentle humming of the ceiling fan. Maira stared at the floor, his words sinking into her like quiet rain. She could sense the restraint in his tone, the quiet plea wrapped in concern. And despite the ache in her chest, she couldn’t say no.
Not when every part of her, exhausted, fragile, unsure, just wanted to be somewhere safe.
She gave a tiny nod.
Rubina exhaled in relief, and Hadi’s shoulders dropped, just slightly, as if a small storm had passed.
“I’ll help you pack,” Rubina said softly, standing up.
Maira sat still for a moment longer, processing it all. She didn’t know what awaited her in Mumbai, more uncertainty, more silence, perhaps. But at least she wouldn’t be alone.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.
---
The apartment felt heavy with emotion as the bags were zipped up and the final cups of chai sat untouched on the table. The once-lively air now hummed with a silent sorrow, as if the walls themselves knew someone was leaving.
Rubina folded Maira’s last kurta into her bag and exhaled deeply. Maira stood by the window, watching the sunlight fall across the floor like threads of gold, a place that had become a quiet refuge now felt too close, too fragile to stay in.
Hadi emerged from his room with his own small duffel bag, glancing around. “All set?” he asked, his voice low.
Rubina nodded, but her smile faltered.
They all moved slowly, as if trying to prolong the inevitable. As Hadi lifted the bags, Maira turned to Rubina, her throat thick with unspoken gratitude.
“I… I don’t even know how to thank you,” she whispered.
Rubina pulled her into a tight hug. “Don’t,” she said, her voice trembling. “Just take care of yourself. That’s all I want.”
They stayed like that for a few seconds, both of them blinking away tears. Then Rubina cupped Maira’s face. “Call me whenever you feel like talking. Even if it’s the middle of the night.”
Maira nodded, unable to say much else.
Hadi stepped forward then, offering Rubina a small smile. “I’m truly grateful for everything you’ve done for her,” he said. “If you ever need anything, anything at all, you can call me. Please don’t hesitate.”
Rubina returned the smile with a nod, her eyes red but kind. “Take care of her, Hadi bhai. She may not show it, but she’s still very fragile.”
He gave a firm nod.
Outside, a cab waited for Rubina. She placed a hand on Maira’s shoulder one last time and then left, her silhouette growing smaller in the rearview mirror as the cab pulled away.
Maira turned toward Hadi’s car hesitantly. As he opened the passenger side door for her, she instinctively moved toward the back seat. But when their eyes met and he gave her a faint nod toward the front, she paused.
Then, without a word, she slid into the front seat.
Hadi walked around and took the driver’s side. As the car started, silence settled between them like a companion neither had invited. The road ahead stretched long and quiet, broken only by the sound of passing vehicles and the occasional honk in the distance.
Hadi’s hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly. His mind was racing, what if this goes wrong? What if she finds out too soon? How do I balance this without hurting anyone?
Maira sat with her hands clasped in her lap, looking out the window. Her heart thudded with nervousness. She had agreed to go, yes. But to live with him in the same city, knowing the truth of their marriage, knowing he had a life in Mumbai, it terrified her. She didn’t want to overstep, didn’t want to be a guest in someone else’s story. Yet here she was, again stepping into the unknown.
Neither spoke.
But perhaps in that silence, something fragile but real had begun, a small thread of understanding neither of them had the courage to name yet.
---
Mumbai greeted them with its usual chaos, headlights cutting through the dark, the constant hum of traffic, and narrow lanes still alive with the clatter of late-night scooters. The warm, heavy air clung to their skin, thick with the scent of the city. But for Maira, it all passed in a blur. The city was unfamiliar, and so was the life awaiting her here.
Hadi drove silently through a quieter stretch of the suburb, turning into a modest yet newly-built residential complex. The guards waved him in with familiarity. He parked the car, stepped out, and helped Maira with her luggage, though she barely registered the gesture.
“This way,” he said, guiding her through the lift and then into a clean, furnished apartment on the tenth floor.
The apartment opened into a bright and airy living room, with sunlight pouring through big windows and lighting up the titled floors. To the left were two bedrooms, both simple and cozy, with enough space for a bed, a wardrobe, and soft-colored walls. A small study room sat at the end of the hallway, quiet and neat, with a desk and shelves along the wall. The kitchen was open and modern, with shiny counters and clean lines, making the whole place feel fresh and ready for something new.
Hadi set the bags down in the living room, then turned to her.
“Please make yourself comfortable,” he said, brushing his hands together as if that would make things easier. “You’ll be staying here. It has everything you will require, but if there's anything else you need, do let me know.”
Maira gave a small nod, clutching the strap of her bag tightly.
He glanced at the time on his phone. “I’ll have to leave now. It’s getting late,” he added, already turning toward the door.
But halfway there, he paused.
He turned back to face her, hesitant, but resolute.
“I… I hope you know,” he began, voice quieter now, “my wife, she doesn’t know anything about this. About you. About what happened. I haven’t told her. And I don’t plan to. Not yet.”
He looked at her then, guilt flickering behind his eyes.
“I really love my family. A lot. Please… promise me you won’t share this with anyone.”
Maira felt the words like a stone in her chest, heavy, expected, but still painful. She straightened up slightly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I promise,” she said.
Hadi gave a small nod, one of thanks, or maybe relief, then quietly stepped out.
“Lock the door,” he reminded gently before disappearing down the hall.
The door clicked shut behind him.
And then, silence.
Maira stood in the middle of the empty room for what felt like hours. Her eyes scanned the walls, the unfamiliar furniture, the untouched kitchen. She wasn’t home, she was placed.
His words kept echoing.
“My wife… I really love my family…”
She didn’t belong here. Not truly. She was just a part of a story no one wanted told.
Later that night, curled up on the sofa with the light still on, Maira finally let herself cry, quietly at first, then with the kind of ache that came from swallowing too much sorrow, for too long.
No one heard.
And sleep eventually came, not peaceful, but enough to forget, for a little while.
----
The soft click of the main door echoed in the quiet house as Hadi stepped in.
It was close to midnight.
He didn’t bother turning on the lights. He knew the path well. Moving slowly, almost cautiously, he made his way to the nursery, the only place that could center him after a day like this.
The gentle glow of the night lamp bathed the small room in gold.
His eyes landed on his son, peacefully asleep in his cot. Tiny fists curled near his face, chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm, untouched by the chaos of the world outside.
Hadi stepped closer, lowering himself beside the crib, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together.
For a moment, he just watched.
There was something sacred about this, his child, wrapped in innocence, untouched by the weight Hadi carried.
A slow smile spread across his face, one filled with both ache and warmth.
Leaning forward, he gently kissed his son’s forehead, taking in the soft scent of baby oil and warmth. “Papa’s here,” he whispered, more to himself than to the child.
He lingered for a few more seconds, then stood up and quietly exited the nursery.
Inside the bedroom, Lubna lay asleep, curled up on her side. Just as he’d asked, she hadn’t waited for him.
He walked closer, his pace slowing as he took her in, her face calm, her breathing even. For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to smile, just seeing her there.
Gently, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Then bent down and kissed her forehead softly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, more like a breath than a word, inaudible, but real.
Before the heaviness in his chest could take over, he turned away and disappeared into the washroom.
The sound of water running behind the door was the only thing keeping his emotions from boiling over. He leaned against the tiled wall, eyes shut, letting the cold shower wash over his racing thoughts.
It wasn’t fair, to anyone.
Not to Lubna.
Not to Maira.
And least of all, to himself.
His one reckless action that night, its weight echoing in every heartbeat.
When he emerged, he felt marginally lighter but far from free.
He climbed into bed beside Lubna, the familiar scent of her calming him, grounding him. She stirred in her sleep as he gently pulled her closer.
Instinctively, she snuggled into him.
And he… just held her.
His gaze stayed fixed on her face, memorizing every detail, trying to drown out the guilt that wouldn’t loosen its grip.
His arms stayed wrapped around her long after her breathing settled again.
Eventually, sleep did come. Not peaceful, not complete, but just enough to help him survive another day in the storm he had created.
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
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