The streets of Lucknow buzzed with life, a city known for its culture, poetry, and nawabi heritage. Amid the chaos, Omar Ahmed Ali found solace in the familiar rhythm of his guitar strings. The notes flowed effortlessly under his fingers, each chord a reflection of his emotions.

Omar was a singer by profession and passion, his voice carrying a depth that touched the souls of his listeners. He was the pride of his family, often invited to perform at events and gathering across the city. Yet behind the captivating songs and the charming smile lay a secret he guarded fiercely, his unspoken love for Mahenoor.

Omar had loved her for as long as he could remember. They had grown up together, their families intertwined in the fabric of Lucknow's joint-family traditions. From childhood mischief to teenage dreams, Omar has always been by her side, quietly falling deeper in love with her as the year passed.

But Omar was also a realist. He knew Mahenoor's heart belonged to someone else, a man she had never met but had loved with unwavering devotion. Her long-distance relationship with Asjad was something she held sacred, and Omar respected that, even if it meant burying his own feelings.

It was a quiet afternoon when Omar's parents broached the topic yet again.

"Beta how long will you keep this to yourself ?" His mother Rabia, asked gently as she placed a cup of chai in front of him. "You've loved mahenoor for years. She deserves to know."

Omar sighed, running a hand through his thick black hair. "Ammi, you know why I can't tell her. Her heart isn't free. She's still waiting for Asjad."

Rabia's brows furrowed in concern.

"But Omar, it's been four years. You've seen how much she's hurting. Don't you think she deserves to know that someone is here for her, someone who loved her unconditionally?"

His father, Ahmed, chimed in. "Your mother is right beta. You've always put her happiness above yours. But maybe your love could help her heal."

Omar shook his head firmly. "No, Abba. Telling her would only burden her. She already has so much to deal with. The last thing she needs is my feelings weighing on her mind. I don't want her to feel obligated or guilty because of me."

Rabia sighed, her heart aching for her son. She had seen the way Omar's eyes softened when he looked at Mahenoor, how his songs often carried a melancholy that mirrored his unspoken love. As a mother, she wished she could ease his pain, but also respected his decision.

✨

Later that evening, Omar sat in his music room, a small space in their home where he could lose himself in melodies. The walls were adorned with posters of legendary musicians, and the shelves held trophies from various singing competition.

He picked up his guitar and began strumming a tune, his voice filling the room with a hauntingly beautiful melody.

"𝑫𝒊𝒍 𝒌𝒆𝒉𝒕𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒊 𝒃𝒂𝒂𝒕 𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒖𝒏,

𝑷𝒂𝒓 𝒌𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 𝒎𝒆𝒊𝒏 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒊 𝒉𝒂𝒊 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒇𝒂.

𝑾𝒐𝒉 𝒕𝒐𝒉 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒊 𝒐𝒓 𝒌𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒑𝒏𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒌𝒉𝒕𝒊 𝒉𝒂𝒊,

𝑨𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒊𝒏 𝒖𝒔𝒌𝒊 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒗𝒆𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒊𝒏 𝒋𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒂 𝒉𝒖 𝒔𝒂𝒅𝒂..."

("My heart tells me to talk,

But my loyalty resides in silence.

She dreams of someone else,

And I always remain in his picture.")

His voice cracked slightly on the last note as he thought of mahenoor, her quiet demeanor, and the sadness in her eyes. Omar had always been her confident, the one she turned to when she needed someone to talk to. But ever since Asjad's silence had consumed her, even that bond had frayed.

He missed his Mah, who used to laugh at his jokes, who would tease him about his lyrics and demand he sing her favorite gazals. Now, all he saw was a girl lost in her own world, carrying a heartbreak she refused to let go of.

The next day Omar found himself at the Shaikh household, a place as familiar to him as his own home. The two families often shared meals, celebrated festivals together, and leaned on each other in times of need.

He spotted mahenoor sitting in the garden, a book open on her lap but her gaze distant. Omar's heart ached at the sight. He wanted to go to her, to say something that would bring a flicker of light back into her eyes, but he hesitated.

Instead he turned to nazia, who was tending to the roses nearby.

"Aunty, how is she doing?"

He asked softly.

Nazia sighed. "She's the same, Omar. It's like she's here with us, but her mind is somewhere far away. I don't know how to bring her back."

Omar nodded, his jaw tightened. He wished he could do something, anything, to help her. But he knew that until Mahenoor decided to let go of the past, no one could truly reach her.

That evening, Omar's younger sister, Zoya. Found him sitting on the terrace, staring the stars.

"Bhai, kya soch rahe ho?"

She asked sitting down beside him.

( Bhai, what are you thinking about?)

"Wahi jo hamesha sochta hoon."

He replied with a sad smile.

( That's what I always think.)

Zoya placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You're too selfless, bhai. You've spent years loving someone who might never love you back. Don't you think it's time to think about yourself for a change?"

Omar shook his head. " Love isn't about expecting something in return, Zoya. It's about wanting the best for the person you care about, even if it means staying in the background. Mah needs time to heal. That's all I can give her right now."

Zoya admired his brother's strength and kindness, but she couldn't help feeling frustrated. She had always looked up to him, but she wished he would allow himself to be vulnerable, to fight for his own happiness.

The days passed in a quiet rhythm, with Omar juggling his music career and family responsibilities. He had started working on a new song, one that reflected the turmoil in his heart.

As he scribbled down the lyrics late one night, his thoughts drifted to Mahenoor again. He wondered if she ever thought of him, even as a friend. Did she know how much he cared, how much he would give just to see her smile again?

But Omar quickly shook off the thought. It didn't matter. As long as Mahenoor found happiness, whether with Asjad or someone else, he would be content.

For now, all he could do was wait, just as she was waiting for a love that might never return.

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Author_Mahenoor.