Chapter 3: part 2

The living room buzzed with anticipation as the family awaited Sheheryar's return. Zaina sat cross-legged on the couch, nervously twisting the hem of her dupatta. Her bubbly nature was momentarily subdued by a flutter of excitement she couldn’t quite explain.

Fatimah leaned close to her, whispering, “Relax, Zaina. He’s just Sheheryar Bhai, not some royal guest.”

Zaina rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched into a smile. “He’s been away for three years, Fatimah. Of course, it’s a big deal.”

Before Fatimah could respond, the door opened, and Sheheryar stepped in. He looked the same yet somehow different—taller, more composed, and exuding a quiet confidence. His sharp features softened as his eyes scanned the room, taking in his family after years of separation.

“As-salamu alaikum,” he greeted, his deep voice calm and steady.

“Wa alaikum assalam,” everyone replied in unison, smiles breaking across their faces.

Zunaira immediately got up and embraced her son, her eyes glistening with happy tears. “Sheheryar, my son, you’ve been away too long. Alhamdulillah, you’re finally home.”

He hugged her back briefly, offering a small smile. “It’s good to be back, Ammi.”

Usman clapped him on the back, his pride evident. “You’ve done well, Sheheryar. We’ve all missed you.”

One by one, everyone greeted him, their joy palpable. Zaina, however, stayed rooted in her spot, her heart pounding as her turn approached. When he finally reached her, she gave a quick smile and murmured, “Welcome back, Sheheryar Bhai.”

He nodded politely, his reserved nature evident. “Thank you, Zaina.”

After a few more moments of conversation, Sheheryar excused himself. “I’ll go freshen up before dinner.”

As he left for his room, Zaina let out a small sigh of relief, though her heart still raced.

---

The dining table was laden with delicious dishes, the aromas filling the air. Everyone took their seats, the family chatter lively and warm. Among the spread was Sheheryar’s favorite dish, karahi gosht, prepared meticulously by Zaina earlier in the day. She hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, not wanting to draw attention to her effort.

When Sheheryar joined them, he sat quietly, serving himself without much fanfare. As he took his first bite of the karahi gosht, his usually neutral expression softened slightly, a flicker of appreciation passing through his eyes.

“This is good,” he remarked simply, his deep voice cutting through the chatter.

Zaina’s heart soared, though she kept her face composed. “Alhamdulillah,” she said softly, not meeting his gaze.

After finishing his meal, Sheheryar excused himself again. “I’m going for a ride. I’ll be back later.”

Zunaira frowned slightly. “So soon? You’ve just come home.”

“I won’t be long, Ammi,” he reassured her, his tone calm yet final.

As he left, the room fell into a brief silence before Zohaib broke it. “He’s still the same—always disappearing after dinner,” he joked, earning a laugh from the others.

But Zaina sat quietly, her mind lingering on Sheheryar’s brief reaction to her cooking. It wasn’t much, but for her, it was enough.

Sheheryar gripped the steering wheel as he drove through the quiet streets, the cold night air rushing through the open windows of his car. His mind, however, was far from calm.

For years, he had buried his feelings, telling himself that they were wrong, that they could never be acted upon. Zaina. The name itself sent a shiver through him, one that was both comforting and painful. She called him Bhai, a term of respect and affection that drew a line he had no right to cross. Yet every time she smiled, every time she laughed with that uncontainable energy, his resolve wavered.

He sighed, his chest tightening. “I can’t force her,” he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. “She’s young, still studying. She has her whole life ahead of her. What right do I have to disrupt that?”

But his heart rebelled against his logic. For him, Zaina was everything—a bright light that brought warmth and chaos into his otherwise structured, reserved world. He had loved her for as long as he could remember, and every moment spent away from her had only made that love grow stronger.

The car slowed as he approached a familiar street, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Not yet. He needed to think. He needed to wrestle down the part of himself that wanted to walk into the house and confess everything.

“She doesn’t feel the same,” he whispered, his grip tightening on the wheel. “She calls me Bhai. That says everything.”

The weight of his unspoken feelings felt unbearable, pressing heavily on his chest. Yet, he knew he couldn’t let his emotions dictate his actions. Love wasn’t about forcing someone to feel the same way. It was about patience, respect, and understanding.

By the time he pulled into the driveway, the house was bathed in moonlight, silent and serene. He turned off the engine and sat there for a moment, taking a deep breath. His heart still felt heavy, but he resolved to carry it as he always had.

Stepping into the house, he was surprised to see a dim light glowing in the living room. Zaina sat curled up on the couch, her dupatta draped loosely over her shoulder, her face thoughtful and slightly troubled.

“Zaina?” he called softly, his deep voice cutting through the quiet.

She looked up, startled, before offering him a small smile. “You’re back.”

“What are you doing here? It’s late,” he asked, his brows knitting in concern as he stepped closer.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, fixing her hijab . “I thought maybe some quiet time here would help.”

He frowned slightly. “You’ll catch a cold sitting here like this. Go to bed, Zaina.”

She shrugged lightly. “I’ll go in a bit.”

Sheheryar hesitated, his gaze softening as he looked at her. Her clumsiness, her bubbly nature, her laughter—it was all wrapped up in the person he had grown to love more than anything. But tonight, as he stood there watching her, all he could do was push his feelings aside once more.

“Good night, Zaina,” he said finally, his voice gentle but firm.

“Good night, Sheheryar Bhai,” she replied with a small smile, her tone warm and unassuming.

As he walked to his room, her smile lingered in his mind. No matter how much he tried, Zaina had become a permanent part of him. As he lay down on his bed, sleep evaded him. His thoughts were consumed by her, as they always were.

And so, with a heavy heart and a restless mind, Sheheryar closed his eyes, knowing that tomorrow would bring the same struggle—the battle between his heart’s desires and the boundaries he refused to cross.

The early morning air was crisp as Zaina finished her prayers, raising her hands in dua with a heart full of hope and uncertainty.

"Ya Allah," she whispered, her voice soft yet fervent. "If Sheheryar is written in my destiny, make it easy for us. If not, grant me the strength to accept Your will. Guide me, protect my heart, and give me what is best for me in this life and the hereafter."

Her heart felt a little lighter as she ended her prayer. She stood, smoothing down her loose kurti and adjusting the dupatta draped modestly over her head. Determined to keep her mind busy, she made her way to the kitchen, tying her apron and setting to work on breakfast.

---

The table was lively as always, with the family gathering to start their day. Zohaib, as usual, was teasing Zaina, though her responses lacked their usual spark.

“You’re too quiet today, Baji,” Zohaib teased, nudging her lightly. “Did you burn the toast again and lose your confidence?”

“Not today, Zohaib,” Zaina muttered with a weak smile, not meeting his gaze.

Fatimah noticed her subdued mood, furrowing her brows in concern. “Zaina, are you okay? You’re not your usual self.”

Before Zaina could respond, Zunaira’s voice cut through the conversation, cheerful and full of excitement. “Oh, by the way, everyone, my friend is coming over this evening.”

She looked pointedly at Sheheryar, who had been quietly eating his breakfast. “She’s bringing her daughter, you know, the one I mentioned before. It’s for your alliance.”

The room went silent.

Zaina’s hand froze on her glass of water, her face paling as her heart sank. She lowered her gaze, trying to mask the turmoil inside her. Her usual chirpy demeanor was now completely absent.

Sheheryar, who had been staring at his plate, looked up, his eyes instinctively finding Zaina’s. Her silence, her downcast eyes—it struck something deep within him.

His mind raced. “Could it be? Could she feel the same?”

But then his rational side kicked in. “No, don’t overthink. She calls you Bhai. You’re just imagining things.”

Pushing down the faint flicker of hope, he muttered a low, noncommittal “Hmmm,” before returning his focus to his food.

Zunaira, oblivious to the undercurrents at the table, smiled brightly. “It’ll be wonderful, Sheheryar. She’s perfect for you.”

Zaina forced herself to stay seated, her appetite completely gone. Fatimah reached over, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze under the table. Zaina glanced at her, her eyes betraying the emotions she was trying so hard to hide.

Sheheryar, meanwhile, continued eating, but his mind was far from the table. The quiet tension from Zaina had unsettled him in a way he couldn’t ignore. Though he tried to brush it off, the idea that she might feel something for him lingered, refusing to leave his thoughts.