The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the shaikh household, bathing the living room in a golden glow. The air was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed tea, mingling with the scent of the roses blooming in the garden outside. The Shaikh family's home in Lucknow was a bustling haven of love and tradition, where laughter echoed in the corridors, and the chatter of a joint family never ceased, except in one corner of the house.

Mahenoor Sameer Shaikh sat by the window in her room, gazing out at the world that seemed to move on without her. She was dressed in a simple, pale blue kurta that matched the soft melancholy in her eyes. Her hair, once neatly braided every morning, now hung loose and unkempt, as if reflecting the disarray of her inner world.

Once a lively, compassionate teacher adored by her students, mahenoor had become a shadow of her former self. Her life was now defined by silence. She spoke to no one unless absolutely necessary, and even then her words were sparse, weighed down by the burden of emotions she could not share. The mahenoor who used to bring life to the house with her laughter and stories had vanished, leaving behind someone her family struggled to recognize.

"Mahenoor beta, breakfast is ready."

Her mother's voice called out, breaking the stillness of the room.

Mahenoor turned her head slightly but didn't respond. Her mother nazia, sighed from the doorway. It's been four years since her daughter had retreated into this shell, and every day, nazia prayed for a miracle to bring her back.

The family had tried everything, taking her to counselors, involving relatives to cheer her up, even giving her space to heal. But nothing seemed to reach the void that had consumed her. The root of it all was something Mahenoor rarely spoke about: Asjad.

Asjad Hamza Malik was the name etched into her soul, a name that had become both her solace and her suffering. They had never met in person. Their relationship has blossom over phone calls, messages, and promises exchanged across cities. He lived miles away in Aurangabad, part of a joint family like her. Despite the distance, Mahenoor had fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with him.

For two years, their relationship has been a dream she held close to her heart. Asjad's voice on the other end of the line had been her lifeline, his words painting a picture of a future she believed in. But dreams have a way of shattering, and their love story comes to an abrupt end.

It wasn't a dramatic breakup; there were no fights or harsh words. Just silence. Silence that grew heavier with each passing day, until asjad Stopped calling, stopped texting, and disappeared from her life as if he had never been there.

Even then, mahenoor held on. For months, she told herself he would return, that there must be a reason for his absence. Four years later, she was still waiting, still hoping, though deep down, she knew the truth. He was gone.

✨

The shaikh family's dining table was as lively as ever, with her cousins chatting animatedly and her uncles discussing the news over pratha's and chai. Mahenoor sat quietly at the corner of the table, picking at her plate. Her silence was a stark contrast to the vibrant energy around her.

"Mahenoor, are you going to School today?" Her elder cousin, Sanober asked, attempting to draw her into the conversation.

Mahenoor shook her head. Since her depression had taken hold, she had taken an indefinite leave from her teaching job. The one-passionate educator now found it difficult to face a classroom full of expectant faces.

Sanober's smile faltered, and she exchanged a glance with Nazia, who simply shrugged. They all wanted to help mahenoor, but no one knew how.

After breakfast mahenoor returned to her room. She opened the drawer of her desk, pulling out a small box filled with mementos of her past. Inside was dried roses, cards with handwritten notes, and a phone with Messages she couldn't bring herself to delete. Each item was a reminder of Asjad, a love she had cherished and lost.

She picked up a letter he had written to her during the early days of their relationship. His handwriting was neat, the word filled with warmth and affection.

"𝑴𝒂𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒐𝒓, 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆. 𝑬𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒘𝒆'𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝒊 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆. 𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒊'𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒖𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒂 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒚".

Her finger trembled as she read the words, tears pooling in her eyes. That promise had never been fulfilled. Instead, it was the distance that became permanent, leaving her stranded in the shadow of what could have been.

✨

In Aurangabad, life was equally chaotic yet peaceful in the Malik household. Asjad Hamza Malik was the eldest son, respected and admired by his family. He was a doctor, dedicated to his profession and his patience. To anyone who saw, asjad appeared to have it all-- a successful career, a supportive family, and a future filled with possibilities.

But beneath his composed exterior lay a heart burdened with regret.

Asjad often thought about Mahenoor, the girl who had once been in his world. He had loved her, or at least he thought he did. But life in a joint family was complicated, and his dream clashed with the expectations of his elders. When his family began pressuring him to consider arranged proposals, asjad found himself unable to balance his responsibilities and his love for Mahenoor.

Rather than confronting the situation, he had chosen the coward's path. He had stopped calling, hoping the silence would end things without confrontation. He had convinced himself it was for the best, that Mahenoor deserved someone who could give her the world, not someone trapped in family obligations.

But the guilt never left him.

Late at night, when the house was quiet, Asjad would sit in his study, staring at her last message on his phone: "𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒗𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒇 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆."

Her words haunted him, a constant reminder of the pain he had caused. Yet he had never reached out, too ashamed to face her after all this time.

🍁

Back in Lucknow, Mahenoor's parents were growing increasingly worried. Her withdrawal from life was affecting not just her but everyone around her.

"Nazia, we need to do something."

Her father, sameer, said one evening. "It's been four years. She's still waiting for someone who clearly doesn't care. We need to help her to move on."

Nazia nodded, wiping a tear from her eyes. "But how, Sameer? She won't even talk to us about him. It's like she's stuck in a time loop, reliving those days over and over again."

"We should consider finding her a good match." Sameer suggested hesitantly. "Maybe if she sees there's still hope for happiness, she'll start living again."

Nazia hesitated. The idea of arranging a marriage for Mahenoor while She was still grieving felt wrong. But at the same time, she knew they couldn't let her daughter continue down this path of self-destruction.

As Mahenoor sat in her room that night, the rain began to fall outside, each drop tapping against the windowpane like a quiet reminder of her tears. She clutched her diary, the one place where she let her emotions flow freely.

She wrote:

"𝑨𝒔𝒋𝒂𝒅, 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔. 𝑰 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝑰'𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒊 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒆. 𝑨𝒎 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍? 𝑶𝒓 𝒂𝒎 𝑰 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒈𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒆?

𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒉𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕. 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒗𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒇 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒚𝒆. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏, 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈....

𝑩𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑."

Closing the diary, she rested her head against the window, the cool glass soothing her burning eyes. In that moment, she realized the truth she had been avoiding: waiting for Asjad was slowly destroying her.

But letting go? That seemed even harder.

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Author_Mahenoor.