The morning had barely unfolded in the shaikh household, and yet, a strange unease hung in the air like an invisible cloud. The sprawling joint family home in Lucknow has always been a place of warmth, filled with laughter of cousins, the aroma of home cooked meals, and the steady rhythm of everyday life. But today, a heavy silence whispered through the walls, as though something was deeply amiss.

Sameer Shaikh, Mahenoor's father, sat on the veranda, gazing into the distance. His cup of tea had long grown cold, forgotten in his hand. He looked older than his years, the creases on his face speaking of sleepless nights and unspoken worries. The soft chirping of birds felt meaningless against the weight pressing on his chest.

"Sameer," Imran, his elder brother, called gently as he joined him outside. Imran carried his own cup of tea, the warmth radiating through his palm. "Kya soch rahe hai?"

(What are you thinking?)

Sameer sighed deeply, as though the breath itself carried his burden. "Mahenoor ke bare mein fikr hoti hai, Imran Bhai. Woh bas ek parchayi ban gayi hai apni."

(I am worried about Mahenoor, imran Bhai. She has become just a shadow of herself.)

Imran nodded knowingly. "Waqt sab thik kar dega, Sameer. Lekin hum sabko uske sath rehna hoga."

(Time will heal everything, Sameer. But we all have to live with her.)

"Waqt," Sameer murmured bitterly. "Chaar saal ho gaye hai, aur waqt uske liye toh ruka hua hai. Kya yeh bhi zindagi hai? Woh humse door ja rahi hai. "

(Time,

It's been four years, and time has stood still for her. Is this even life? She is going away from us.)

Before Imran could respond, Nazia's voice called from inside. "Sameer, breakfast is ready. Both of you come inside."

Sameer stood reluctantly, his thoughts still with his daughter.

Upstairs, Mahenoor's world remained untouched by the morning sunlight. The curtains in her room were drawn shut, the air heavy with stagnation. She sat curled up to the edge of her bed, her head resting on her knees as though holding herself together.

The silence of the room was deafening. The ticking of the clock, the faint chatter of the family downstairs-it all felt so distant.

"𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏?" She wondered bitterly. 𝑭𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔....𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔.

Her relationship with Asjad had been the one light in her life. They had never met, and yet, his words, his promises had felt so real. And then, he was gone. His absence had hollowed her out, leaving behind nothing but memories that refused to fade.

Her chest tightened as the flood of thoughts overwhelmed her.

"𝑾𝒉𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝑰 𝒃𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝑨𝒔𝒋𝒂𝒅? 𝑲𝒚𝒂 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒊 𝒎𝒐𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒏𝒂𝒉𝒊 𝒕𝒉𝒊?"

(Was my love not true?)

A sob escaped her lips, and her breathing became ragged. The room spun around her as panic gripped her chest. She tried to calm herself, to breath, but her heart pounded wildly, her versions blurring.

She slid off the bed onto the floor, clutching the fabric of her kameez as though it could steady her.

Downstairs, Nazia paused while kneading dough. An unexplained unease settled in her heart, making her hands falter.

"Ammi," She whispered to Zohra begum, her mother, who sat on the sofa reciting tasbeeh. "Mujhe ajeeb sa lag raha hai, pata nahi Q, lekin Dil bechain ho raha hai."

(I am feeling strange. I don't know why, my heart is feeling restless.)

Zohra begum looked up, concerned etched on her aged face. "Nazia, Mahenoor comes to mind?"

Nazia nodded, wiping her flour-stained hands on her dupatta. "Subah se uska koi ata-pata nahi hai, woh neeche bhi nahi aayi?"

(There is no sign of her since morning, she hasn't even come down.)

Just then Zikra entered the kitchen. "Ammi, I am going to Appi, she has been quiet since morning."

Nazia exchanged a glance with Zohra begum. "Go, beta. See if she's okay or not."

Zikra climbed the staircase, her footsteps quickening with every step. She knocked softly at first. "Appi?"

Silence.

She knocked again, harder this time. "Appi, open the door!"

Still no response.

Frowning, Zikra pushed the door open and froze.

Mahenoor was on the floor, her body trembling violently, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts. Her face was ghostly pale, tears streaming down her cheeks as though she didn't even realize she was crying.

"Ya Allah," Zikra gasped, dropping to her knees beside her sister. "Appi, kya ho raha hai? Breathe, Appi! Aap mujhe sun rahi hai?"

(Appi, what's happening? Breathe, appi! Are you listening to me?)

Her cries carried through the halls, shattering the morning's silence.

"Ammi!" Zikra screamed desperately. "Abbu! Someone come!"

Within moments, footsteps thundered up the stairs. Nazia entered first, a cry of anguish escaping her lips when she saw her daughter. "Mahenoor!"

Sameer followed close behind, his face ashen. "Beta!"

Imran, saira, Tariq and all the younger cousins gathered near the door, their faces pale with fear.

Nazia cradled Mahenoor's trembling form in her arms. "That's it, beta. I am here, nothing will happen, Ammi is here."

Sameer knelt beside them, his voice choked. "Mahenoor, open your eyes, this is what we all are, beta. We are with you."

Rida rushed in with a glass of water and a damp cloth, tears streaming down her face. "What happened to Appi?"

Sanober whispered brokenly. "It feels like a panic attack."

When Mahenoor finally calmed down, Imran gathered everyone in the living room downstairs. The atmosphere was tense, the silence broken only by sniffles.

Sameer sat with his head in his hand, while Nazia wiped her tears quietly.

Tariq spoke first, his voice steady. "Sameer Bhai, I think we all have to spend time with Mahenoor. She is alone in her sorrow."

Zohra begum added firmly, "Ever since she is lost in Asjad's memories, her pain is breaking her. Before anything else happens, we have to do something."

Sameer looked up, his voice heavy with grief. "She's my daughter....and I'll fix her, no matter how long it takes."

✨

In his room, far from the shaikh household, Omar sat on his prayer mat. He had heard from zikra about Mahenoor's Condition, and it felt as though someone had punched the air out of him.

His head bowed low, tears fell freely as he whispered. "Ya Allah, have mercy on Mahenoor. She is suffering pain which I cannot understand. Take her into your affairs."

His hands trembled as he raised them higher. "She is not mine, but she is there in my prayers, please restore her peace, Allah, free her from the burden of sorrow."

For a long time, he stayed in sujood, praying for the girl whose smile he would sacrifice anything to see again.

That night, Mahenoor lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Her mother had stayed with her for hours, but now the room was silent again.

She whispered into the darkness, her voice cracking.

"Ya Allah, please free me from this pain, I do not know how to live."

The silence swallowed her words, but her tears continued to flow, soaking her pillow as the weight of her loneliness pressed down on her chest.

The morning sunlight filtered through the window of the shaikh household, casting a golden hue over the quiet home, it was an unusual morning, hushed and heavy, unlike the typical lively days that echoed with chatter and laughter.

Mahenoor sat by the window in her room, a cup of tea in her hands. She hadn't slept all night. Her eyes were red and swollen from the tears she had shed in the silence of her room.

She watched the world outside, the neighborhood coming to life, yet she felt distant, as if she didn't belong in this reality anymore.

Nazia, entered the room quietly, carrying a fresh breakfast for her. "Beta, Eat something, you haven't eaten anything since morning." She said softly, her voice carrying the weight of her concern.

Mahenoor didn't respond;She merely stared blankly ahead.

"Your father is also worried, if not for yourself then you will have to take some care for him, beta."

Nazia urged gently.

Mahenoor blinked slowly, her mother's words registering faintly. "I can't do it, Ammi," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I can't do all this."

Nazia sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her daughter, "Allah will make everything alright, beta. You just pray. Sometimes the answer is hidden even in our tears."

A soft knock on the door startled them both. Zikra entered hesitantly. " Ammi, I had received a call from those people... Omar bhai's parents." She said cautiously.

Nazia looked up, surprised. "Rabia and Ahmed bhai's call?"

"Yes Ammi," Zikra nodded. "They are coming to meet....to inquire about mahenoor appi's condition."

Mahenoor's heart skipped a beat, though she couldn't understand why. She closed her eyes and sank back into the pillow, wishing the world outside would just disappear.

An hour later, the hum of a car pulling into the driveway broke the silence. The shaikh household stirred once again. Nazia and Sameer greeted Omar's parents Rabia and Ahmed Ali. As they stepped into the house, their faces etched with concern. Alongside them were Zoya, and their Nanu Fazal Ahmad.

"Assalamualaikum." Rabia warmly, embraced Nazia as she entered. Rabia's face carried a motherly tenderness, and her eyes immediately searched for Mahenoor.

"Walaikum Assalam," Nazia replied, her voice soft yet tired.

Sameer greeted Ahmed Ali with a firm handshake. "Ahmed Bhai, did you feel the trouble of coming here?"

Ahmed Ali shook his head. "Sameer Bhai, don't talk about your problems. We have come here to inquire about the condition of our daughter. Omar told us everything."

"Yes." Sameer said with a faint smile, guiding them toward the living room.

The room was filled with a sombar silence as the family settled in. Zoya sat quietly beside her Nanu, her curious eyes glancing around. She had heard of Mahenoor before, her quiet demeanor, her struggles but seeing the house so silent unsettled her.

"Mahenoor kaisi hai?" Rabia asked gently, her voice laced with sadness. (How is Mahenoor?)

Nazia sighed, folding her hands in her lap, "Rabia, woh bas ek parchayi si ban gayi hai apni. Kal raat to uski tabiyat itni kharab ho gayi thi ke hum sab ghabra Gaye."

(Rabia, she has become just a shadow of herself. Last night her health became so bad that we all got scared.)

Rabia's eyes filled with tears. "May Allah have mercy. I have seen her since childhood...she was so innocent. Now it hurts my heart to hear this."

Ahmed Ali cleared his throat. "Sameer Bhai, if you guys want, the door of our house are always open. If you ever need anything, let us know. We all have each other."

Sameer nodded gratefully. "Thank you Ahmed Bhai, your coming here means a lot to us."

Upstairs, zikra knocked softly at Mahenoor's door before stepping inside. "Appi, Omar bhai's mother and father have come down. To see you."

Mahenoor looked up, her expression blank. "Why did they need to come here?" She murmured.

"Appi, they had just come to inquire about your condition. You should meet them. Please." Zikra pleaded.

For a long moment, mahenoor didn't respond. Then, as if summoning whatever strength she had left, she stood up slowly and adjusted her dupatta.

"Okay." She said softly.

On the other hand, Omar hadn't originally planned to accompany his family. But as the morning wore on, an unease gripped him. After completing his prayers, he decided to leave for Mahenoor's house. When he arrived, the house was quieter than he'd ever remembered.

He stepped into the living room to see his parents already there, speaking softly with Mahenoor's family. Zoya looked up and smiled faintly when she saw her brother.

"Bhai you also came," she whispered.

"Yes," Omar replied softly, his eyes scanning the room.

Omar's gaze finally settled on Mahenoor as she entered the living room. She looked frail, almost fragile, her head covered with her dupatta. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as though every step was a burden.

For a moment Omar's heart ached. She wasn't the same girl who once laughed freely with everyone, her eyes sparkling with life. She looked like a shadow of herself, and it pained him deeply to see her like this.

"Assalamualaikum Mah," Omar said gently, his voice steady yet tender.

Mahenoor looked up at him for a brief moment, her eyes dull and lifeless. "Walaikum Assalam, Omar." She replied faintly.

"How are you?" Omar asked softly.

Mahenoor didn't respond at first. She looked away, as if trying to shield herself from his concern. "Fine." She muttered finally, though her voice gave away a lie.

Rabia stepped closer placing a comforting hand on Mahenoor's shoulder. "Beta, everyone is worried about you. Take support from Allah. Whatever has happened, it will be better in your favour, In Sha Allah."

Mahenoor's throat tightened as tears threatened to spill. She nodded weakly, unable to say anything more.

Omar watched her carefully, his heart pounding in his chest. He wished he could say something-anything- that would ease her pain. But he knew there were no words that could fix a broken heart.

"Should I get you some water, Mahenoor Appi?" Zoya offered, trying to lighten the mood.

Mahenoor shook her head. "No, thanks. Zoya."

The room fell silent again, save for the faint ticking of the clock.

✨

As the visit drew to an end, Omar's parents bid farewell to the family. Omar, however, lingered behind. On his way out, he saw mahenoor sitting by the window, staring outside with empty eyes.

Something in him couldn't bear it anymore.

"Omar, beta, let's go." Ahmed Ali called softly.

"Abbu, you all go, I will wait for a little while more." He replied.

Ahmed nodded understandingly and left with the rest of the family.

Omar walked toward the small prayer room of the house. Sitting alone on the prayer mat, he lowered his head and whispered a heartfelt Dua.

"Ya Allah, jo dard Mahenoor ke dil mein hai, usse tu door karde. Woh jo tooti hai, tu uske dil ko jod de. Uska sukoon wapas la de. Aur agar me uske liye kuch nahi kar sakta, to mujhe Dua ke layak to bana de."

Tears slipped silently down his face as he stayed there for a long while, whispering prayer that only Allah(SWT) could hear.

(Ya Allah, the pain that is in Mahenoor's heart, you closed its doors, the pain that is broken, you mend her heart. Give her back her happiness. And if I can do anything for her to make me worthy of prayer.)

When Omar finally left the shaikh household. He took with him a weight that was heavier than before. Mahenoor watched him leave,from her window her eyes filled with unshed tears.

Omar had always been there, a silent presence in her life, a friend who asked for nothing in return. But today, she saw something else-an unspoken pain that mirrored her own.

She turned her gaze back to the empty street outside, whispering softly. "Ya Allah, mere liye kya likha hai? Mujhe raasta dikha do."

(Ya Allah, what is written for me? Show me the way?)

In his car, Omar sat quietly for a moment before starting the engine. He looked back at the house one last time, his heart heavy with prayers that would never be spoken aloud.

"Ya Allah, uska khayal rakhe." He murmured to himself as he drove away.

(Ya Allah, take care of her.)

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