30.

As the soft glow of the early morning filtered through the window, Anam stood by the mirror, carefully adjusting her hijab. The soft fabric framed her face, and her cheeks carried a faint blush, not from the cold but from her own wandering thoughts. Her eyes flickered to Feras, who had just emerged from the bathroom, the water droplets still clinging to his hair. Clad in a crisp black kurta, his aura was as commanding as ever, exuding an air of effortless authority that always left her heart racing.

She blinked quickly and turned back to the mirror, but it was too late... he had caught her staring.

Feras raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Kya baat hai, Anam? Why are you looking at me like that?" (What's wrong, Anam? Whay are you looking at me like that)

Anam turned redder, fumbling with the edge of her scarf. "K-kuch nahi," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. (N-nothing)

His gaze softened, though his tone remained teasing. "Tum blush kyun kar rahi ho? Kuch toh hai." (Why are you blushing, then? There is something...)

She shook her head quickly, trying to distract herself by adjusting her books for university. He smirked faintly but didn't press further. His eyes, however, lingered on her hijab.

"By the way," he began, his tone now curious, "tum hijab kabse pehenti ho?" (Btw, since when did you start wearing hijab?)

Anam paused, startled by the question. She glanced at him, hesitating before replying softly, "Jab se main 7 saal ki thi." (From when I was 7 years old)

Feras frowned slightly. "Itni choti umar se?" (From such a young age?)

She smiled faintly, her fingers trailing over the hem of her scarf as she leaned against the dresser. "Actually, at that time, I didn't understand why Ammi told me to wear the hijab. I used to think it was just a responsibility that had been placed on me. But then, my Ammi made me understand." Her voice grew softer, tinged with sadness at the mention of her late mother.

Feras noticed the shift in her expression and remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

"But then Ammi explained... she mentioned the Holy Quran and said that this is not just a piece of clothing, but a symbol of honor. She told me about the lives of Bibi Fatima and Bibi Zainab. When she spoke about Bibi Zainab's patience and strength, I realized how important hijab is—especially for us, who are her followers ."

Feras, leaning against the edge of the dressing table, crossed his arms. There was something in her voice... reverence, strength, and an unshakable faith... that caught his attention. He had never thought much about these things, never really delved into the spiritual depth of his own religion. Her words kept on stirring something unfamiliar in him.

"Bibi Zainab?" he asked, the name tasting foreign on his tongue despite its familiarity. "Unka kya taluq hai hijab se?" (Bibi Zainab? What does she have to do with hijab?)

Anam's expression grew serious, the sadness in her eyes softening into a quiet resolve. She adjusted her dupatta gently, as if preparing herself for something sacred. "Bibi Zainab ka waqya Karbala main. Jab unke bhai Imam Hussain (A.S.) aur unke saathiyon ko shaheed kar diya gaya, unhone sirf apne hijab aur izzat ka nahi, puri Islam ki shaan ka daaman pakad kar rakha." (The incident of Bibi Zainab in Karbala... When her brother, Imam Hussain (A.S.), and his companions were martyred, she did not only hold onto her hijab and dignity but also upheld the honor of Islam itself.)

Her voice, soft yet powerful, filled the room. She spoke of the tragedy of Karbala, of how Bibi Zainab (A.S.) had stood firm despite witnessing the brutal martyrdom of her family, including her beloved brother, Imam Hussain (A.S.), her brother Abbas (A.S.), her beloved nephews and her own sons. She recounted the horrors of Yazid's (L) tyranny, the looting of the camps, and how the women's veils were torn away. And yet, even in those moments of unimaginable grief, Bibi Zainab had emerged as a symbol of strength and dignity, her hijab an unbroken testament to her faith.

"She didn't just witness Karbala," Anam said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Unhone apne bhai ka paigham duniya tak pohchaya. Jab unhe Yazid (L) ke darbar mein laaya gaya, despite the humiliation, Bibi Zainab carried herself with dignity, refusing to let the oppressors break her spirit.." (She delivered her brother's message to the world. When she was brought to Yazid's (L) court, despite the humiliation, Bibi Zainab carried herself with dignity, refusing to let the oppressors break her spirit.)

Feras found himself captivated by her words. She spoke with such conviction that it made him feel small, as if he had spent his life oblivious to a depth of faith that Anam carried effortlessly. He had never thought much about these things.

"Bibi Zainab (A.S.) proved to the world that hijab is not just a covering; it is a symbol of strength, dignity, and unwavering faith. A woman as pious and as dignified as Her sacrificed her own veil, and saved the veil of women for every generation that came" Anam concluded, her voice soft but firm. "Ye hijab sirf aik kapra nahi hai, this is the flag of Zainab (A.S.), and my promise to bibi Zahra (A.S.) " (This hijab is not just a piece of cloth; this is the flag of Zainab (A.S.), and my promise to Bibi Zahra (A.S.)

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Feras, uncharacteristically quiet, let her words sink in. He had never been a deeply spiritual man, never taken the time to understand the faith he had inherited. And yet, standing here, listening to Anam, he felt a stirring in his heart he couldn't quite place.

"Tumhari Ammi ne tumhari bohot achi tarbiyat ki hai," he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. He turned away, adjusting the cuffs of his kurta, trying to mask the turmoil in his mind. "Aaj tak kisi ne mujhe in batoon ke bare mai itna deeply nahi samjaya." (Your mother has raised you very well.) (No one has ever explained these things to me this deeply before.)

Anam watched him, a soft smile tugging at her lips. She hadn't intended to affect him so deeply, but she could see the shift in his demeanor, however subtle.

Feras walked toward the door, he glanced back at her briefly, his gaze lingering longer than he intended.

.....

The family had gathered around the dining table for lunch. Conversations flowed easily, filled with the clinking of plates and the occasional playful banter. Ayub sat quietly next to Anam, her attention on the food, though her eyes flicked occasionally toward Ayan, who was his usual lively self, cracking jokes and making everyone laugh.

Ahmed, their father, cleared his throat, immediately silencing the room.  "I have something important to discuss," he began, his tone steady but serious.

All eyes turned toward him, curiosity and a hint of apprehension in the air. Ayan raised an eyebrow, his smile fading slightly. Feras, sitting on the other side of Anam, leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze fixed on Ahmed.

"I've decided it's time to think about Ayan's marriage," Ahmed announced, his words landing like a bombshell.

The room went silent for a moment before Ayub's fork slipped from her hand with a clatter. She quickly bent to retrieve it, her heart racing. Ayan, on the other hand, froze mid-bite, his mouth open in a comical expression of shock.

"Marriage?" Ayan finally managed to say, his voice an octave higher than usual. "Abbu, you didn't even ask me, how long have you been planning this for? I didn't even know!"

Ahmed offered a small, knowing smile. "Ayan, rishtay aane lage hain. Aur mujhe lagta hai ke ab unhe serious lene ka waqt aa gaya hai." (Ayan, proposals are starting to come in. And I think it's time to take them seriously now.)

Ayan groaned, leaning back in his chair. "Abbu, meri zindagi abhi perfectly set hai. Shaadi karne ki koi zarurat nahi hai!" (Abbu, my life is perfectly set right now. There's no need to get me married!)

"At least look at them, before making any decision. Tumhari Ammi hoti, toh woh bhi yahi chahti." (Exactly. The proposals are really good. At least look at them before making any decision. If your mother were here, she would want the same.)

At the mention of their mother, both Feras and Ayan grew silent, a brief shadow passing over their expressions. Ayub, noticing the shift, lowered her gaze, her fingers fidgeting nervously. Her heart clenched at the thought of Ayan marrying someone else. She felt silly for her feelings but couldn't help it.

Pari, always ready to add humor to serious situations, grinned. "Kitna maza ayega Ayan bhai ki shadi pe. Mujhe lagta hai shaadi mein sabse zyada jokes khud marega." (How much fun it's going to be at Ayan bhai's wedding! I think the most jokes will come from him himself.")

Ayan shot her a glare. "Very funny, Pari. Tum sab milkar mujhe phasa rahe ho." (Very funny, Pari. I know You all are teaming up on me.)

Anam, ever the voice of reason, gently intervened. "Taya-Abbu, the decision of marriage is important. Maybe it's more necessary to understand Ayan bhai's preferences first. Taking a decision without that might not be the right thing to do."

Ayan seized the opportunity, pointing at Anam. "Haan! Exactly! Dekha? Bhabi is the voice of wisdom" (Yes! Exactly! See? Bhabi is the voice of wisdom)

Ahmed sighed but smiled slightly. "Beta, hum tumhari pasand ka bhi khayal rakhenge. Lekin rishtay jo aaye hain, unhe ignore karna theek nahi hai." (Son, we will also consider your preferences. But ignoring the proposals that have come is not the right thing to do.)

Ayub finally found her voice, though it wavered slightly. "Taya-Abbu... shayad pehle Ayan bhai ko thoda time de diya jaye toh behter hoga. Ye faisla thoda zyada serious hota hai." She avoided looking at Ayan as she spoke, her cheeks heating up. (Taya-Abbu... maybe it would be better to give Ayan bhai a little more time first. This decision is a bit too serious.)

Ayan, noticing her nervous tone, glanced at her curiously, but before he could say anything, Ahmed dismissed her suggestion gently. "Ayub beta, har cheez ka ek waqt hota hai. Aur mujhe lagta hai ke Ayan ke liye yeh wala waqt sahi hai." (Ayub beta, everything has its time. And I think this is the right time for Ayan)

The conversation turned lighter as Pari continued to tease Ayan about becoming a groom. Ayan groaned dramatically, leaning toward Feras. "Bhai, kuch karo! Mujhe is shaadi ke topic se bacha lo." (Bro, do something! Get me out of this wedding topic)

Feras smirked and patted Ayan's shoulder. "Shaadi ka darr sabko lagta hai, Ayan. Lekin abbu sahi keh rahe hain, ek na ek din toh tumhe ready hona hi padega." (Everyone is scared of marriage, Ayan. But dad is right—one day, you'll have to be ready for it)

As the laughter resumed around the table, Ayub silently focused on her plate, her mind racing. The thought of Ayan with someone else unsettled her, though she couldn't quite explain why.

.....

The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated the room as Anam stood on her prayer mat, immersed in her Isha prayer. Her serene face, framed by her hijab, glowed with quiet devotion. Feras walked in, his steps halting at the sight of her. The gentle rhythm of her recitation filled the room, creating an atmosphere of peace that seemed to pull him in.

He leaned against the doorway for a moment, his intense gaze softening as he watched her. He had seen many women in his life but none like her. The thought made something deep inside him stir, a quiet acknowledgment of the treasure she was in his life.

As she finished her prayer and turned to sit back on her knees for dua, her hands raised, Feras moved further into the room. She hadn't noticed him yet, her focus entirely on her conversation with Allah. Her whispered words, full of sincerity and hope, reached his ears.

"...aur Feras ko hamesha apne hifz o amaan mein rakhna, ya Allah. Unke dil mein sukoon aur khushi bhar de, aur unko hamesha behtareen raaste par chalne ki toufeeq dein..." (...And always keep Feras under Your protection, O Allah. Fill his heart with peace and happiness, and grant him the ability to walk on the right path...)

Feras froze for a moment, stunned. She was praying for him... again.

When she finally completed her dua and turned to fold her prayer mat, her gaze lifted, and she spotted him. A soft gasp escaped her lips, her hand flying to her chest. "A-ap yahan? Kab aaye?" (You? Here? When did you come?)

Feras smirked, stepping closer. "Jab tum dua mang rahi thi." His voice was low, almost tender, and it sent a shiver down her spine. "Mere liye phir se dua mang rahi thi, Anam?" (When you were praying? You were praying for me again, right?)

She blushed deeply, quickly folding the prayer mat to busy her hands. "Woh... woh toh har waqt karti hoon," she admitted shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. (I always pray for you)

Feras chuckled, a sound that was rare but warm. He crouched down to her level, his face mere inches from hers. "Allah se kya mang rahi thi mere liye?" he asked, his voice teasing but his eyes betraying a deeper curiosity. (What did you ask Allah for me?)

Anam's cheeks burned brighter. She avoided his gaze, fidgeting with the edge of her scarf. "Woh... bas... aap ke liye achhi si zindagi aur sukoon ka maang rahi thi," she murmured. "Aur ye bhi ke aap khush rahein." (That you live a good and peaceful life. And that you always stay happy)

Feras's heart skipped a beat. He tilted his head, studying her with an intensity that made her pulse race. "Jab bhi tumhe dekhta hoon, aisa lagta hai ke mujh jaise gunahgaar ko bhi apne aap ko behtar banane ki koshish karni chahiye" he said after a moment, almost to himself. (Whenever I look at you, it feels like even someone as sinful as me should start working on myself.)

Anam's heart swelled at his words. She took a tentative step closer. "Aap pehle se hi bohot achhe hain," she said softly, her voice filled with sincerity. (You are already very good)

He turned to face her fully, his expression unreadable. "Tumhe pata bhi hai main kaisa insaan hoon?" (Do you even know what kind of person I am?)

Anam held his gaze, unflinching despite the intensity of his question. "Pata hai." (I do)

For a long moment, they stood in silence, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Feras finally let out a small sigh, shaking his head slightly as if to push away the vulnerability creeping in.

"Tum ajeeb bohot ho, Anam" he said. (You're very strange, Anam)

Anam's lips curved into a playful smile. "Achhi wali ajeeb hai ya buri wali?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. (Is it the good kind of strange or the bad kind?)

He gave a faint smirk, his first hint of amusement that morning. "Abhi tak decide nahi kiya." (I haven't decided yet)

She giggled softly, her laugh light and infectious. Feras watched her, something stirring in his chest that he couldn't quite place.

"Anam," he said suddenly, the name unfamiliar on his tongue yet feeling oddly right. She turned to him, surprised that he had called her so directly.

"Yes?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

He cleared his throat, standing and crossing his arms as if to shield himself from the vulnerability of the moment. "Don't laugh like that so often."

Her brows knitted in confusion. "What? Why? you told me yourself to smile only at you"

"Because I don't think my heart can handle it," he said firmly, though his voice carried an undertone of something softer.

Anam blinked before a soft laugh escaped her lips. "I'll try to keep that in mind," she teased chuckling lightly, though her cheeks turned pink.

Feras sighed, running a hand over his face, clearly frustrated by his own reaction. "Just... go get ready to sleep," he muttered, gesturing vaguely toward the bed.

"Yes, sir," she said playfully, bowing her head slightly before walking toward the bathroom.

As she moved past him, the faint scent of her rose-scented lotion lingered in the air, and he caught himself watching her. Shaking his head, he muttered under his breath, "This woman..."

Anam turned back briefly, catching his words but unable to make them out. "Did you say something?" she asked.

"No," he said quickly, his voice returning to its commanding tone. "Just go and sleep."

She smiled again before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving him standing there, a conflicted look on his face. Feras exhaled deeply, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat back down on the bed.

Her warmth was unrelenting, and no matter how hard he tried to maintain his distance, she was breaking through. One smile, one laugh at a time.

.....

The clock struck midnight, and Feras lay in bed, his eyes closed but his mind restless. The faint sound of muffled conversation reached his ears, pulling him from the edge of slumber. Opening his eyes, he realized it was Anam's voice. He turned his head slightly, listening more intently. She was speaking on the phone... soft, cautious, and... unfamiliar.

His brows furrowed when he heard her say a man's name, Rehaan. His heart sank, a mixture of confusion and unease spreading through him. His mind raced, trying to piece together the situation. Before he could process further, Anam's voice grew fainter. She had moved toward the bathroom, closing the door behind her to continue the conversation.

Feras sat up, running a hand through his hair in frustration. It's nothing, he told himself, probably her mother's side relative, or something trivial. But the unease refused to leave. He reached for his phone on the bedside table, needing a distraction from the growing knot in his chest.

A notification pinged, breaking the silence. He opened the message, and what he saw made his blood run cold. A photo of Anam sitting in a café with a man he didn't recognize filled the screen. Her face a little hidden with niqaab, the setting casual, but the image burned into his mind. Below it, a message read:

"It's your wife, right? Look what she's up to these days secretly behind your back."

His grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles turning white. For a moment, the world around him seemed to blur. His first instinct was disbelief. This can't be true.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, the logical part of his mind kicking in. He scrutinized the photo, looking for signs of editing, but nothing stood out. His heart wavered between anger, doubt, and the faint hope that this was all a cruel trick.

Without wasting another second, he called his hacker friend, Rayaan.

"Rayaan," he said, his voice low and controlled, though the tension was unmistakable.

"Feras? It's late so late... what's up?" Rayaan's voice carried a note of concern.

"I need a favor. I just got a message with a photo. I'm forwarding it to you, along with the sender's number. I need you to find out who sent this and check if the photo is edited," Feras said, his tone sharp and urgent.

"Got it. Give me a few hours. I'll call you as soon as I have something."

Feras ended the call, his jaw clenched tightly. His eyes flickered toward the closed bathroom door. His thoughts raced, each one more unsettling than the last. He didn't want to doubt her, but the image and her behavior were gnawing at him.

Moments later, Anam stepped out, her expression calm and oblivious to the storm brewing in his mind. She noticed him awake and tilted her head slightly. "Aap kab uthe?" she asked softly, concern lacing her voice. (When did you wake up?)

Feras forced his features to remain neutral. "Tum kya kar rhi thi?" he asked, his voice steady but carrying a slight edge. (What were you doing?)

She blinked, surprised by his question. "Woh... meri aik friend ki call tha. Usko kuch urgent tha, isliye baat kar rahi thi," she explained, her tone honest and casual. (I was on the call with a friend. It was something urgent.)

He studied her carefully, his dark eyes piercing. For a moment, he wanted to push further, to ask whose call it was and why she stepped out of the room. But then he stopped himself. He needed facts, not assumptions. Until Rayaan confirmed the truth, he wouldn't let this seed of doubt grow.

"Thik hai," he said finally, his voice devoid of emotion. (Okay)

Anam gave him a small smile, seemingly unaware of his inner turmoil. She climbed into bed, pulling the blanket over herself. "Aap bhi so jaiye, it's late," she said softly, closing her eyes. (You should go to sleep, it's quite late)

Feras lay down beside her, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts a chaotic mess. He glanced at her peaceful face and felt his chest tighten. I hope you're not hiding something, Anam. For both our sakes.

As the room fell silent, Feras closed his eyes, though sleep was the last thing on his mind. The unanswered questions loomed, heavy and oppressive, as he awaited Rayaan's call.

A/N: something interesting is going to happen now *evilly laughs*