8.

Anam's POV:

The final days before the nikah were a whirlwind of activity, but for Anam, they felt like a slow march toward an inevitable heartbreak. The house was alive with preparations, guests coming and going, and the persistent hum of excitement. Yet, through it all, she moved like a ghost—present but unseen, her mind caught in an endless loop of prayers and whispers to Allah to grant her strength.

The dholki, the mehndi, and the sangeet had passed in vivid bursts of color, sound, and celebration. Each ceremony left Anam feeling emptier, as if the joy around her was draining her own reserves of happiness. The mehndi was the hardest so far. She had sat in a quiet corner, observing the festivities from the shadows. Seher's vibrant laughter and radiant face had been the center of attention as cousins teased her about Feras, and friends danced to upbeat songs.

Anam had nodded along, clapping softly, her hands folded in her lap. She felt Ayub's restless energy beside her. Her younger sister was fuming, her foot tapping against the floor in irritation.

"This is ridiculous," Ayub muttered, leaning closer to Anam. "Feras bhai doesn't even look happy, Api. Why is no one seeing this?"

Anam sighed, shaking her head slightly. "Ayub, it's not our place to question the elders' decisions. Feras bhai knows what's best for himself."

Ayub stared at her sister incredulously. "Why do you always defend him, even when he's wrong?"

Anam didn't respond. She knew Ayub was only voicing the thoughts she had tried so hard to suppress. Instead, she focused her attention on the henna patterns drying on her palms, silently repeating her prayer for a dozen time: Ya Allah, take this love out of my heart. Let me find peace in Your plan.

The next morning brought another flurry of activity. Seher's family arrived with more gifts, and the elders gathered to finalize the arrangements for the nikah. Anam busied herself with tasks... helping Chachi in the kitchen, arranging seating for the guests, and ensuring that everyone had tea and snacks.

It was during one of these errands that she overheard a conversation between her Chachi and one of the older relatives.

"Seher is perfect for Feras," the woman said, her voice loud enough to carry across the room. "She's modern, beautiful, and comes from a good family. What more could we ask for?"

Chachi nodded, smiling proudly. "Exactly. She's everything we could've hoped for. And Feras deserves someone like her, after all he's done for the family."

The words hit Anam like a punch to the chest. She quietly excused herself, retreating to the kitchen under the pretense of fetching more cups. Once alone, she leaned against the counter, her hands trembling as she struggled to keep her emotions in check.

She hated how weak she felt, how easily her emotions surfaced despite her constant prayers and resolve. She whispered under her breath, her voice shaky, Ya Allah, give me strength. Help me accept what is written for me.

It wasn't long before she heard footsteps approaching. She quickly wiped her face and straightened herself, turning to see Feras standing in the doorway. He leaned against the frame, his piercing gaze fixed on her.

"You've been working nonstop," he said, his tone calm but edged with something she couldn't quite place. "Have you even eaten today?"

Anam's hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I'm fine, Feras bhai. There's a lot to be done."

"That's not an answer," he replied, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Her heart raced under his scrutiny, but she kept her gaze lowered, refusing to meet his eyes. "I'll eat later," she said softly, trying to step past him.

He didn't move, blocking her path. "Anam."

She froze, her breath catching in her throat. His voice was firmer now, commanding her attention.

"Stop pushing yourself," he said, his tone colder. "You're not obligated to handle everything. Let someone else take care of it."

Anam swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just doing what Chachi asked me to do."

His jaw tightened at her response, but he said nothing more. After a moment, he stepped aside, letting her pass. She hurried away, her heart pounding in her chest.

That night, as the house finally quieted down, Anam sat on her prayer mat. The exhaustion from the day's work weighed heavily on her, but she pushed it aside, focusing all her energy on her prayers.

She whispered fervently, her tears falling freely. Ya Allah, I am weak, but You are strong. Remove this love from my heart. Let me find peace in Your plan, and guide me to what is best for me.

Her heart ached with every word, but she felt a sense of calm wash over her as she finished her dua. It wasn't easy, and she knew it wouldn't happen overnight, but she was determined to let go. To stop running after a love that wasn't meant for her.

The night before the nikah, the house was filled with an electric anticipation. The final preparations were being made, and everyone was running on a mix of nerves and excitement. Anam stayed up late, helping Ayub iron her clothes for the next day.

"Are you sure you're okay, Api?" Ayub asked suddenly, her voice soft.

Anam looked up, surprised by the question. "Why do you ask?"

"You've been so quiet lately," Ayub said, sitting beside her. "You look even worse than before."

Anam forced a smile, placing a hand on her sister's shoulder. "I'm fine, Ayub."

But Ayub wasn't convinced. "I don't believe you," she said, her voice trembling. "You've spent your whole life doing things for other people, but what about you? What about what you want?"

Anam shook her head gently. "What I want doesn't matter, Ayub. This is Allah's plan, and I trust Him."

Her sister stared at her for a long moment, her eyes glistening with tears.

As the night stretched on, Anam found herself standing by the window, staring out at the garden. The moon hung low in the sky, its light casting a soft glow over the world. She closed her eyes, whispering one final prayer before heading to bed.

Ya Allah, let me find solace in Your decree. Replace this longing with contentment, and guide me to the path You have chosen for me.