The next two weeks passed in a blur for Hadi. Days spilled into nights with hardly a pause in between. Office work piled up, back-to-back meetings left him drained, and the constant tug of responsibility weighed heavier than usual. Every time he picked up his phone meaning to call Maira, something pulled him away, an urgent email, a call from a client, Zohan crying for his attention, or Lubna talking about the upcoming family dinner they had to attend.
He hadn’t been able to visit Maira again. The guilt sat quietly in a corner of his chest, surfacing at odd hours, when he passed a certain street while driving, or when he noticed the sun setting, recalling the time he'd left her right before Maghrib. He had managed to send her a message a few days ago:
“How are you doing?”
Her reply had been short, yet polite:
“I’m fine.”
That was it. No follow-up. No complaints. No expectations.
Still, it left him with a strange hollow ache. He didn’t know if it was disappointment or relief.
---
For Maira, those same two weeks crawled by at a painfully slow pace. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
She had fallen into a monotonous routine, one that left her feeling suspended in a world that didn’t move. Her days started with Fajr prayers, followed by breakfast for one. Then came the silence. She cooked, cleaned, prayed again, and sometimes stitched. It helped distract her. In fact, all four pillows in her room had now been embroidered with intricate floral patterns, roses, vines, paisleys. The once-plain white cushions now carried color and life, hand-sewn with patient fingers and silent prayers.
She sat for hours weaving threads through cloth, needle piercing the fabric with a rhythm that mirrored her own heartbeat. Those pillows felt like the only thing that belonged to her, like fragments of herself stitched into fabric.
But doing the same thing every single day eventually started to feel suffocating. There was no one to talk to, no laughter echoing in the apartment, no sound of footsteps or doors closing.
One day, after completing her Duhr prayer, she sat still on the prayer mat and stared ahead. Something clicked.
“Yeh silsila yun nahi chalega…”
(This can’t go on like this…)
That very evening, she began looking for a job. She was a computer science graduate, not useless, she reminded herself. She started applying online, scrolling through job portals, updating her CV, and preparing herself for interviews. Within days, she had two scheduled.
Both had gone terribly.
The first one was rushed. The interviewer had barely glanced at her resume and kept glancing at his watch. The second was more thorough, but they had rejected her for being overqualified for the position.
Still, Maira didn’t let it crush her. Her faith anchored her. She was determined. She would try again.
But she couldn’t tell Hadi. Not that she didn’t want to, but she knew what he’d say. He would disapprove saying she should focus on healing. Offer to send more money. He already had. He had created a separate bank account in her name and had deposited a generous sum, and she already had the credit card for her use. But she hadn’t touched it. Not a single rupee. She couldn’t bring herself to. She didn’t want his money.
Not unless it was absolutely, desperately necessary.
Thankfully, it hadn’t come to that yet. The apartment was stocked, pantry shelves full, fridge organized. Everything she needed was already in place.
And while leaving Nashik, Rubina had given her a few thousand, knowing she wouldn't use Hadi's money, she had said "If you consider me as your sister, you should keep this money and use them as your own."
That's the only money Maira had used so far for traveling, and she still had some left.
---
That morning, the soft rays of sunlight filtered into her room as Maira stood before the mirror adjusting her green salwar kameez. The delicate embroidery on the sleeves danced gently with every movement. A matching green dupatta was neatly pinned over her head. Her eyes looked tired, but determined. There was a quiet hope nestled in her chest today.
She had an interview.
Her third.
And something about today felt... different. Better.
Maybe this was the one.
She reached for her black faux-leather purse and slipped her documents inside, checking twice to make sure everything was in order. Then she grabbed her phone, locked the apartment behind her, and stepped out into the warm mid-morning sun.
---
At night, the warm light above the dining table cast a soft golden hue over the room, creating a peaceful cocoon in the otherwise busy household. The clinking of cutlery against porcelain filled the space with a gentle rhythm, broken only by the occasional cooing of Zohan, who sat content in his baby seat, nibbling on the edge of his silicone teether, his tiny fingers clenched tightly around the toy as if it were his most precious possession.
Across the table, Hadi and Lubna shared their dinner, plates neatly arranged before them. Hadi was quiet, chewing slowly, lost somewhere between the taste of food and the fatigue clinging to his body like a second skin.
Lubna, dressed in a soft blue kaftan, was halfway through her meal when she broke the silence.
"Hadi," she called, not too loudly, but just enough to cut through the stillness.
He looked up immediately, fork pausing mid-air.
"Yes, love?" he replied, his voice warm, attentive, as his hand slowly placed the fork back down. He turned his full gaze toward her, eyes soft with familiarity.
Lubna smiled at his undivided attention.
"I've found a new nanny for Zohan. I think you’ll approve of her. I’ve called her tomorrow morning so you can meet."
Hadi blinked in surprise, then exhaled in visible relief. His lips curled into a grin as he leaned slightly back in his chair.
"That’s really good news. Thank you, love..." he laughed, a breathy sound of genuine gratitude, "...you just made my job easier."
Lubna laughed with him, the sound light and harmonious.
For weeks now, he'd been struggling to find the right person. Hadi had been especially cautious, overly so, some might say. But to him, Zohan wasn’t just a baby, he was his entire world compressed into that tiny form. Finding someone trustworthy enough to care for his son felt like an impossible task. No matter how polished the CVs were, no matter how friendly the faces, no one had quite passed the invisible test of being good enough for Zohan.
Except his mother. Wahida Ansari.
She had always been the one to care for Zohan when they weren’t around. But lately, even that was becoming difficult. She never complained, never, but Hadi had noticed the subtle winces in her expression, the way she rubbed her knees when she thought no one was looking. She was aging, and Zohan, now 1 year and 4 months old, was a force of pure energy, his little legs constantly in motion, his laughter echoing down hallways as he darted from one corner to another. He needed someone young. Someone who could keep up with him.
So when Lubna said she had found someone, a weight lifted off Hadi’s shoulders. His chest felt a little lighter, his mind a little calmer.
Dinner continued in easy silence after that, the way only people used to each other’s company could enjoy. The soft rustle of the staff clearing dishes, the muted hum of the baby monitor nearby, it all blended into a calm end to a long day.
Once they were done, Hadi stood and stretched slightly. He walked over to Zohan, who had started dozing off in his seat, his head wobbling from side to side, the toy now hanging loosely from his hand. Hadi carefully picked him up, cradling him against his chest, his large hands supporting his son’s back with instinctual gentleness.
He took him to the nursery, the room bathed in a gentle blue glow from the nightlight. After settling Zohan into his crib, placing his favorite soft lion toy beside him, Hadi lingered a moment, watching his son’s chest rise and fall with the rhythm of dreams.
A soft sigh escaped him. He turned off the lamp and closed the door behind him quietly.
Back in the bedroom, Lubna had already changed and was brushing her hair in front of the mirror. Hadi entered, unbuttoned his shirt with slow fingers, and joined her in bed moments later. The room was dim now, silent, except for the distant hum of the city outside.
They lay there, side by side, ready to call it a night.
And somewhere in the stillness, without saying it out loud, Hadi’s thoughts drifted, just for a moment, to a quiet apartment, to a woman living alone. He needed to do something about it soon.
But he blinked the thought away and embraced Lubna, who snuggled into him.
For now, this was his world.
And sleep claimed him soon after.
---
The golden rays of the morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft patterns across the marble floors of Hadi’s living room. The house was unusually still, filled only with the distant clinks of breakfast plates being cleared and the occasional babble of Zohan from his nursery. Both Hadi and Lubna were already dressed for work, their crisp formal clothes and polished shoes a contrast to the relaxed pace of the morning.
But before leaving for their respective offices, they had decided to meet the nanny Lubna had spoken so confidently about the night before. She was expected any moment.
Lubna sat on the plush couch in the living room, her elbow propped on the armrest as she scrolled through her phone lazily. Her fingers moved with absent rhythm across the screen when the doorbell rang, two short chimes that echoed in the silence.
She placed the phone down, fixing her dupatta lightly over her shoulder as the house staff walked over and opened the heavy wooden door.
Footsteps entered, a soft sound of sandals meeting marble and Lubna stood to greet the woman.
"Hello, I hope you didn't find it difficult to reach here," Lubna said, her tone polite but slightly formal, her eyes scanning the woman before her.
The woman standing at the entrance looked to be in her mid twenties, dressed in a simple blue shalwar kameez, her dupatta neatly covering her head and chest. She smiled nervously, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her bag.
"Hello ma'am, not at all. It was actually quite easy," she replied, her voice slightly trembling despite the smile. Her posture was straight, respectful, but the slight stiffness in her shoulders gave away her nerves.
Lubna offered a soft smile and gestured toward the couch.
"Please, have a seat."
The woman nodded, stepped in carefully, and lowered herself onto the edge of the couch, sitting with a posture that showed she wasn’t completely at ease.
"Thank you for coming in on such a short notice," Lubna said as she gave a subtle nod toward one of the staff nearby.
"I'm glad I can help," the woman responded gently, folding her hands neatly in her lap.
There was a brief pause before Lubna added, "Alright, give me a moment, I’ll call my husband." Her voice was kind but curt, as she turned around and walked down the hallway, disappearing from sight.
As soon as she was gone, the house staff returned with a silver tray. The clink of cups and the fresh aroma of chai briefly lifted the heaviness in the air. The woman gave a polite smile and reached only for a glass of water, wrapping both hands around it as though trying to steady herself.
Meanwhile, in the nursery, Hadi was sitting cross-legged on the soft floor mat, gently tossing a plush elephant back and forth as Zohan giggled with joy. His heart swelled with love each time his son’s tiny hands caught the toy.
Lubna’s voice cut into the warmth of the moment.
"She has arrived." she said softly.
Hadi looked up. He hesitated for a moment, stealing one last glance at Zohan before scooping him up in his arms. He kissed his son’s forehead tenderly and handed him to the attending staff nearby.
"Please look after him." he instructed.
He adjusted his watch, smoothed a hand over his hair, and then walked out with Lubna, their fingers intertwined as they stepped into the living room.
The woman stood up the moment they entered, as a show of respect. But the second Hadi’s eyes met hers, he froze.
His breath caught mid-inhale.
A strange stillness gripped him.
There she was. The one woman he hadn't expected to see standing, in his living room.
Wearing that familiar nervous look in her eyes, the same curve of lips that would barely pass as a smile, the same posture of quiet strength.
What is she doing here? The question hit him like a tidal wave.
Panic rose in his chest, thudding hard against his ribs. His eyes refused to blink, glued to her face as confusion, shock, and disbelief wrestled within him.
His hand slipped from Lubna’s fingers without him noticing.
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
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