26.

The night was still, but the house felt anything but calm. Anam sat in their room, her mind racing with everything that had unfolded earlier. She pressed her hands against her cheeks, which still tingled faintly from Seher's slap. The memory of Feras storming into the living room, his anger blazing like wildfire, replayed in her mind. She couldn't forget the sound of his voice, the force of his fury, and how he had stood between her and Seher, defending her honor so fiercely. It was terrifying, yet... somehow it stirred something deeper within her...

But now, the room was empty, and so was her heart. Feras hadn't come back. Two hours had passed, and with each tick of the clock, her worry grew.

With a sigh, she decided to search for him.

Her first stop was his study. She checked his study first, her soft knock on the door met with silence. Peeking inside, she found it dark and empty.

Next, she moved to the kitchen. The faint scent of chai still lingered from earlier, but there was no sign of him.

Finally, she stepped into the garden, where the wind rustled through the trees. The shadows cast by the dim garden lights danced eerily, but he wasn't there either.

Her heart sank as she trudged back inside. Where could he be?

Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she headed back inside. Giving up, she climbed the stairs, her steps heavy with disappointment. But as she passed by the terrace, she stopped in her tracks.

She noticed the faint light coming from the terrace. Her footsteps quickened, hope sparking in her chest.

There he was.

He stood near the edge, his broad frame silhouetted against the night sky. The moonlight bathed him in a soft glow, and his shawl was draped loosely over his shoulders. The moonlight seemed to soften the sharp angles of his face as he stared at the sky, lost in thought.

The sight of him took her breath away for a moment.

She hesitated, her heart beating a little faster. The chill in the air nipped at her, but it wasn't the cold that made her tremble. Summoning her courage, she took a few steps forward. Her sandals clicked softly against the stone floor, but even the faint sound caught his attention.

He turned, his expression hard and unreadable at first. But as his dark eyes met her worried eyes, the sharpness dulled ever so slightly, replaced by something quieter, though no less intense.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice steady but not as indifferent as usual. "It's late. Tum soyi kyun nhi abhi take?" (It's late, why aren't you sleeping yet?)

Anam stopped a few steps away from him. Clutching her dupatta tightly. "Mai ap ko dhun rhi thi," she admitted quietly. (I was searching for you)

His brows furrowed, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Mujhe dhund rhi thi?" (You were searching for me?)

She nodded.

Feras raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"You've been gone for hours. I checked your study, the kitchen, the garden... you weren't anywhere. Mai... mai pareshan ho gyi thi." (I got worried)

His expression flickered, just for a moment, but he quickly turned back to the moon. "There was no need for that," he said finally, though his tone lacked its usual edge. "I just needed some air."

Anam stepped closer, the chilly wind making her shiver slightly. Feras noticed immediately, his eyes flickering to her trembling form. Without a word, he pulled the shawl off his own shoulders and draped it gently over hers, his hands brushing her arms briefly.

The warmth of his shawl, combined with the unexpected gesture, made her blush furiously. Her breath hitched as the proximity made her acutely aware of his presence.

"You should've worn something warm if you were coming out," he said, his voice quieter now, almost reprimanding. "The weather's getting colder every night."

Anam looked down, hiding her flushed face. "I didn't think I'd be out here long," she mumbled.

He leaned against the railing, his gaze flickering between her and the sky. After a moment, he asked, "How are you feeling now?"

The question surprised her. She blinked, looking up at him. "I'm... okay," she said, though the memory of Seher's slap lingered. "I'll be fine."

His jaw tightened, but he didn't press further.

A quiet moment passed between them before he broke the silence.

"How did your exams go?"

She blinked, surprised at the casual question. "Alhamdulillah, they went well," she said softly, her voice gaining a bit of confidence.

He nodded, his expression unreadable. "Do you have to go to the university tomorrow?"

She shook her head. "No. We have a break now that exams are over. The next semester is the last one."

Feras turned his gaze back to her. "So this is your final year?"

"Jee," she answered, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away.

He nodded again,

Then, silence settled over them... a silence that wasn't awkward but calm and peaceful, filled with the quiet hum of the night.

And as she stood there wrapped in his shawl, her heart whispered a quiet prayer: that moments like these would become more frequent, and that the distance between them would one day disappear entirely.

.....

Feras opened the door to their room, stepping inside with his usual composed demeanor. Anam followed quietly, the shawl he had draped over her earlier still around her shoulders. She could feel the warmth of his presence even though his expression remained impassive.

He walked toward the bed, standing at the edge, his tall frame looming but not menacing. He glanced at her briefly, then turned his attention back to the bed. "Which side do you prefer?" he asked, his voice calm and steady.

The question caught her off guard. She blinked, her hands fidgeting nervously with the edge of the shawl. "Uh... I don't mind. Whichever side you prefer is fine."

Feras sighed softly, running a hand through his dark hair. "You're staying here now. You should be comfortable. Pick a side."

Her cheeks flushed at the unexpected care in his words, even if his tone didn't betray much emotion. She looked at the bed, biting her lip. "T-then... the right side," she said hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded and moved to the left side, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling them up. Anam stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say. The silence between them felt heavy, but not unbearable.

"You should get some rest," he said after a moment, glancing at her as he sat on his side of the bed.

She nodded, hesitating before stepping closer to her side. She sat down delicately, her movements shy and tentative. She felt the mattress dip slightly under his weight, and the proximity made her heart race.

As she reached to adjust her pillows, her bangles jingled softly, catching his attention. He glanced at her hands, then back at her face. "You always wear those?"

She looked down at her hands, surprised by the question. "Not always," she said, her fingers brushing the delicate glass bangles. "But I like them. Ammi used to say they suit me."

Feras leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. "They're nice," he murmured, almost too quietly for her to catch.

Anam's cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. She busied herself with straightening her side of the blanket, unsure how to respond.

Just as she settled in, the room fell into a calm silence again. But then, Feras spoke, his voice unexpectedly soft. "Are you warm enough?"

She looked at him, startled. "Jee, I'm fine," she replied quickly, clutching the shawl tighter around her.

He watched her for a moment, his gaze steady. Then, as if realizing something, he stood up and walked to the wardrobe. Anam's eyes followed him curiously as he pulled out a neatly folded extra blanket.

"Take this," he said, draping it over her side of the bed.

Her heart fluttered at the gesture. "I... thank you," she said, her voice faltering slightly.

He sat back down, his movements measured and deliberate. "It's getting colder at night," he explained, his tone practical but with a faint undercurrent of concern.

She nodded, her fingers clutching the edge of the blanket. "That's... very thoughtful of you," she said softly.

He didn't respond, but his lips pressed into a faint line, almost as if he was holding back a smile.

They both settled in, the silence between them now comfortable. As she turned slightly toward him, she noticed how the soft light of the lamp highlighted the sharp angles of his face, making him look even more striking.

"Feras?" she ventured, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you... for today," she said, her eyes fixed on the blanket. "For standing up for me."

He turned his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting hers, in the dim light. For a moment, he didn't say anything, and she feared she had overstepped. But then he nodded. "No one has the right to hurt you," he said simply, his voice steady but carrying a weight of sincerity.

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. She looked down, hiding the small smile that tugged at her lips.

As the night deepened, they lay there, side by side.

.....

The early morning light had barely begun to filter through the curtains when Anam stirred awake. She had always been an early riser, accustomed to waking up long before dawn. It was a habit she had nurtured over the years, one rooted in her devotion and her connection with her faith. She stretched gently, careful not to disturb Feras, whose form was still turned away from her. The warmth of the bed, the quiet of the room, and the coolness of the early morning air made it the perfect time for her to pray.

She glanced at Feras one last time, noticing that he was still deeply asleep. His back was to her, and the peaceful rise and fall of his chest was the only indication that he was not yet awake. A small sigh escaped her lips as she quietly slipped from under the covers, careful not to jostle him. Her dupatta had slipped off her head as she slept, but she quickly fixed it, tucking the soft fabric into place with a touch of self-consciousness. She hadn't yet gotten used to the idea of him seeing her uncovered, even though she knew he was her husband now. She felt the familiar heat rise to her cheeks at the thought, but she quickly pushed it aside.

Anam moved softly across the room, her bare feet making no sound against the cool floor as she reached for her prayer mat. The light of the moon, filtered through the curtains, bathed the room in a serene glow. She knelt on the mat, facing the qibla, and began her Tahajjud prayer. Her voice was a soft murmur, barely louder than a whisper, as she recited the verses of the Qur'an. The stillness of the night was the perfect backdrop for her quiet worship.

As she finished her prayers, Anam stayed on her knees for a moment longer, raising her hands in supplication. Her voice was a soft murmur as she made her dua, the words flowing naturally from her heart. As always, her prayers were filled with love and care for Feras, for his well-being and his happiness. She asked Allah to keep him safe, to grant him success, and to soften his heart, even if she couldn't always express it in words. Her eyes closed as she whispered the familiar prayer of forgiveness for herself, her family, and those she loved. She felt a quiet sense of peace as she poured her heart out, her soul lightened by the act of supplication.

After a few moments of stillnesss, Anam took her Ziyarat-e-Ashura in her hands. She began reading softly, the words of the sacred text flowing gently from her lips.

Unknown to her, Feras had begun to stir. His eyelids fluttered open, and at first, he didn't fully register what was happening. He lay still for a moment, disoriented by the sound of a voice... soft, melodic, and unlike any voice he had ever heard before. His mind was still foggy from sleep, but there was something undeniably peaceful in the air. The rhythm of her voice, the serenity in her recitation... it was unlike anything he had ever encountered. He lay still, his curiosity growing, waiting to hear more.

Anam finished her recitation, gently placing the Ziyarat back into its place. Her movements were graceful, her body still as she placed the prayer mat aside. Just as she was about to rise, a voice... low, but unmistakably familiar... broke the silence.

"Tum hamesha Tahajjud ke liye jaagti ho?" Feras' voice was hushed, but there was a weight to it, a calm that contrasted sharply with the ferocity he had shown earlier. (Do you always wake up for tahajjud?)

Anam froze, her heart leaping into her throat. She hadn't expected him to wake up, let alone be so aware of her quiet prayers. She turned to face him, her face flushed with surprise and embarrassment. "Aap... aap uth gaye?" she stammered, her voice soft, barely above a whisper. (You're up?)

Feras was propped up on his elbows now, watching her closely. His dark eyes, still clouded with sleep, held an intensity that made her heart skip. The usual coldness of his demeanor seemed muted in the soft light of the early morning, as if something within him was stirred by the peacefulness in her voice.

Anam's heart thudded in her chest, and she quickly lowered her gaze, feeling a rush of shyness flood her cheeks. She hadn't intended to wake him or to make him aware of her nightly ritual. "I didn't mean to disturb you," she said, her voice trembling sliggtly. She hadn't meant for him to hear.

"You didn't disturb me," Feras said softly, his voice surprisingly calm. His gaze softened as he looked at her, studying her carefully. "I've just never seen someone so dedicated to their prayers before."

Anam's breath hitched in her chest. "It's... it's just a habit I've had since I was little," she murmured, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of her dupatta. "I don't know any other way to start the day... or the night," she added in a soft voice.

There was a pause, and then Feras, breaking the silence, asked, "Woh kya tha?" His voice was calm but curious, a question lingering in the air. "Ziyarat-ziya, what?" he added, not entirely sure what to make of the sacred recitation, but intrigued nonetheless. (What was that?)

Anam, startled by the question, glanced over at him. She hadn't expected him to ask. Her fingers still gently held the edges of the prayer mat as she sat back on her heels, her eyes now meeting his. She hesitated for a moment, her heart racing slightly as she tried to put the words into a simple explanation.

"Ziyarat-e-Ashura It's... it's a prayer a salutation and a remembrance," she began, her voice soft but clear. "It's for Imam Hussain, grandson of Prophet p.b.u.h,  and the sacrifices He made in Karbala. It helps to keep his memory alive in our hearts and reminds us of how He fought for justice, faith, and for what is right, by sacrificing everything He had."

Feras stared at Anam, her soft-spoken words filling the quiet space between them. For a moment, he didn't respond, his expression unreadable. She had said the words with such conviction, that it unsettled him. He hadn't thought much about Islam in this much dept before... not deeply, not like this. Yet here she was, speaking of Karbala, Imam Hussain, His sacrifices... things that he'd never really connected with the complexities of his own life.

He leaned back against the headboard, running a hand through his hair, still trying to process everything. "Mujhe yeh sab samajh nahi aata, Anam," he said finally, his tone tinged with frustration. (I don't understand all of this Anam...)

"Feras," she began, lifting her gaze to meet his, "I also didn't get all of this in one day, or understood it in one sitting. It took time... thanks to Ammi I was able to understan all of this in depth. She was there to answer all of my questions. Just like I'm here to answer all of yours."

"Ye sari complications me jane ki kya zaroorat hai?" He asked being frustrated. "Just pray five times a day, stay away from haram, and fast in Ramdhan." "What's the need of being devided in sects?". He asked, his voice cold and frustrated. (Why get yourself into all of these complications)

Anam's heart pounded as she watched Feras's face harden with frustration. She knew this conversation wasn't easy for him, but she also hadn't expected the walls he had built to be this impenetrable. She inhaled deeply, steadying herself, and then continued in a soft but deliberate tone.

"Feras, I understand how overwhelming this might feel," she began, choosing her words carefully. "But this isn't about division. It's about guidance. Islam has always been about staying on the straight path, sirat-al-mustaqeem. And Allah, in His mercy, didn't leave us to figure it out on our own. After the Prophet Muhammad p.b.u.h, He gave us the Ahle Bait... a family chosen by Him to lead, to teach, and to protect the essence of Islam. They weren't just scholars or pious individuals; they were divinely appointed guides."

Feras frowned, his jaw tightening as he listened. "But why them?" he asked, his tone sharp, almost defensive. "Why do you think they are more special than any other Muslim? We're all the same in Allah's eyes, aren't we?"

Anam nodded slowly, appreciating his question but feeling the weight of explaining something so profound. "Of course, we are all equal in our worth as Allah's creation," she said gently. "But Feras, when it comes to guidance, Allah has always chosen specific individuals. Just like He chose the Prophets to guide humanity, He chose the Ahle Bait after the Prophet Muhammad p.b.u.h to continue that guidance. They are pure, sinless, and protected from error. They are from the noor of Allah (swt). That's why the Qur'an refers to them as the purified ones in Surah Al-Ahzab, Ayat Tatheer."

Feras's brow furrowed further, his confusion and discomfort evident. He shifted in bed, his fingers tightening around the blanket. "But what about the Qur'an? Isn't that enough? Why add these layers of complexity?"

Anam paused, choosing her words carefully. "The Qur'an is perfect," she said earnestly. "But Feras, Allah didn't just send the Qur'an and leave us to interpret it on our own. Even during the Prophet's time, people came to him for explanations and guidance because they couldn't always understand the verses or apply them in their lives. After His passing, the Ahle Bait were there to continue that role. Imam Ali, the Prophet's cousin and son-in-law, was called the Gate of Knowledge for a reason. He knew the Qur'an in its entirety, its context, its deeper meanings, and its application. Through the 14 masoomeen, we get clarity and a living example of how to live as true Muslims."

Feras let out a sharp breath, running a hand over his face. "And Karbala?" he asked, his voice lower but still laced with tension. "What does that have to do with all of this?"

Anam's eyes softened as she nodded, her heart aching as she prepared to explain. "Karbala isn't just a historical event," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "It's a lesson, Feras. When Imam Hussain (A.S.) stood on the plains of Karbala, He wasn't fighting for political power. He stood against tyranny, injustice, and the corruption of Islam's true teachings. He sacrificed his family, his companions, even his own life... not for worldly gain, but to protect Islam. If Imam Hussain hadn't stood against Yazid, the Islam we follow today might have been lost, distorted beyond recognition."

Feras's gaze darted away from hers, his hands clenched tightly on his lap. He felt the ground beneath him shifting. Everything she said was foreign to him, unsettling in its intensity and sincerity. He had grown up in a household where Shias were barely mentioned, and when they were, it was with disdain. His grandparents had always spoken of them as misguided or even heretical. Though he had never parroted those views outright, the seeds of that bias had been planted in him long ago. And now, his own wife... a woman he had married without fully understanding her beliefs... was challenging everything he had ever been told.

"But it's all so divisive," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "Islam shouldn't be about sects. It should be simple."

Anam bit her lip, sensing his struggle. "It is simple, Feras," she said softly. "It's about submitting to Allah's will, following the Qur'an and the Sunnah of the Prophet p.b.u.h. The only difference is that we, as Shias, believe the Ahle Bait are the truest interpreters of that Sunnah. They lead us toward unity with Allah, not division. I didn't become Shia to rebel or create tension. I chose it because it brought me closer to Allah and gave me a deeper understanding of Islam."

Feras stood abruptly, his movements sharp and sudden. He didn't look at her as he grabbed his car keys from the nightstand. "I can't do this right now," he said, his voice low but firm. Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Anam sitting on the prayer mat, stunned and heartbroken.

She listened to the faint sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by the distant hum of his car engine roaring to life. Tears pricked her eyes as she lowered her head, her heart aching in ways she hadn't anticipated. All she had wanted was for him to understand, to see her faith not as a division but as a devotion. But instead, she had pushed him further away.

She remained there for a long time, her hands clasped together in silent prayer, asking Allah for guidance, for patience, and for the strength to bridge the growing chasm between them.

"People are hostile towards what they do not know or cannot understand"

—Imam Ali as