Chapter : 56 - A Heart At Rest

Hind Urdu Readers :

English Readers :

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The night was beautiful, and the moon was shining in the sky, but my wife beside me was shining even brighter. There was a calmness on Uns's face as she held my hand, and we walked silently toward my car. Feeling the softness of her hand, I realized that I couldn't bear to be separated from her. I don't know what kind of magic this woman has cast over me; I just know that if I had to live without her, I'd rather choose death.

"Nader, why are you so quiet?" Uns asked gently, stopping to look into my eyes. She knows how to read my eyes, and my heart longed for her to understand my fear, because I didn't have the courage to confess my sins to her.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," I tried to smile, but failed.

"Liar," she said softly, placing her hand on my cheek, and I couldn't help but smile back at her.

"Your eyes speak, Nader. What's wrong?" Uns moved closer, and the air wasn't enough that, her nearness is making me shiver.

"Nothing's wrong, sweetheart. By the way, what would you like for dinner?" I tried to change the subject.

"Whatever you serve," she replied with a smile and jumped up to give me a quick kiss on the cheek.

"But I am dependent on you, Sweetheart! Whatever you eat, I'll eat too," I teased her with a smile and pulled her closer. I placed one hand on her waist and used the other to gently caress her cheek.

Use chuta hoon toh aisa laghta hai, Jannat ke phool ko chu raha hoon, itna khubsurat phool jiske pankhudiyon ko bhi girne nahi de sakhta, aur jiske kaanton seh bhi mujhe mohabbat hai. Mujhe Uns Aziz Nader seh beinteha mohabbat hai.

(Touching her felt like touching a flower from paradise, a beautiful flower whose petals I wouldn't let fall and whose thorns I'd cherish. I love Uns Aziz Nader deeply).

"You'll spoil me, Nader!" Uns's face bloomed with shyness, a light blush coloring her beautiful face. As if that wasn't enough, her nose ring added to her charm, making my heart even weaker.

"This is just the beginning, sweetheart; I want to spoil you even more!" I said softly and bent down to kiss her hand.

"Oh really? How much will you spoil me?" she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm and a hint of mischief as she looked at me.

"So much that even if we have children, I'll fulfill your needs first," I teased her again. Uns blushed even more, and before I could admire her shyness, she hugged me tightly and hid her face in my chest.

"Sweetheart, are you shy?" I asked, holding her closer with patience.

"Shah Jahan, behave yourself," she said, giving my chest a light hit.

"Behave? For what, Sweetheart?" I teased her more.

"Be careful, Nader. I might ask for anything," she said, lifting her face from my chest and looking at me with a mischievous smile.

"Kuch bhi maangna, Uns. Bas jaan na maangna," I said, gazing deeply into her face.

(Ask for anything, Uns, just don't ask for my life).

"Why?" she laughed.

"Kyunki mai apni zindagi ka har pal tumhare saath jeena chahata hoon, Uns," I confessed. Her eyes sparkled, and as I looked into them, I lost myself further. What are you, Uns? And what have you done to me? Wherever I go, all I see is you.

(Because I want to spend my life with you, Uns).

"Do you love me this much, Nader?" she asked, breaking the embrace and looking at me.

"You're the whole world of Aziz Nader, Sweetheart!" I said gently and bent down to kiss her forehead. She closed her eyes, and I kissed both her cheeks, then her eyelids, before standing back up and waiting for her to open her eyes.

"Thank you, Nader," she said with her eyes still closed.

"Cute lagh rahi ho," I said, with a smile.

(You look cute).

Her cheeks turned redder.

"Ab laal tamatar lagh rahi ho," I teased again, and her previously blushing face turned to a frown as she glared at me in mock anger.

(You look like a red tomato now).

Her gaze was sharp, like she'd kill me any moment.

"Bhegairat!" she said sternly and started walking ahead of me.

Did I make her mad? I asked my heart asked.

You never use your brain, Nader! my mind scolded.

Go calm her down, Bhegairat Insaan! This time, both my heart and mind taunted me, so I picked up her heavy luggage and went after her to make amends.

Just before she could open the car door herself, I quickly opened it for her.

"That wasn't necessary," her voice was still firm, but what could I do? She looked so cute when angry, and her cheeks were turning red again. Now, if I don't call her a tomato, what should I call her? A strawberry?

"I like opening doors for you," I said with a smile, closing her door, putting her bags in the back seat, and then sitting in the driver's seat.

Uns looked at me briefly, then suddenly turned her gaze out the window.

"Accha theeke, baba. Tamatar nahi ho tum, tomato ho, khush?" I tried to appease her.

"Tamatar and tomato are the same thing, Nader!" she taunted, sharply. Oh Allah, her sharp tone will be the end of me one day. I still can't understand how someone this petite can hold so much anger!

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart, but you look adorable when you're mad, so either be cute or be angry. If you do both at once, I'll be in trouble deciding whether to listen to your scolding or admire your face!" I shared my very important problem with her.

"Wow, Nader! Instead of making it up to me, you're blaming me? Fine, I admit I'm cute, but---"

"Very cute," I added.

"Shall we go?" Her face turned as red as a strawberry again, and I held back a laugh, seeing how much she blushed over these little things.

"Sweetheart-"

"Don't!" She cut me off.

"Begum-"

"This is really unfair, Nader; you can't call me that after calling me a squashed tomato!" she burst out angrily.

"Then what do you want, Begum?" I was completely confused.

"I'm hungry, Nader," she snapped back.

I... I found it cute again.

"We'll be there in just a few minutes," I said quickly and sped up the car, driving straight toward the restaurant. She never gets this mad. Maybe it's mood swings? But this one seemed different. I was getting used to her moods and even making quick notes of them, but this was new. Either I was in trouble, or I am already in trouble. Bracing myself and encouraging myself at the same time, I parked the car and opened the door for Uns.

She got out, grabbed my hand, and walked briskly.

"What are you ordering, sweetheart?" I asked with a lot of patience.

"Kebabs for me and soup for you," Uns said casually, as if it was nothing.

"So... soup? For me?" I was surprised.

"Yes," she said with a smile.

"I don't like soup, Begum," I defended myself.

"But you like tomatoes, right, Aziz? So, for you, it's a special tomato soup, and for me, chicken kebabs, okay?" There was a strange satisfaction on her face.

Begum badla leh rahi thi aur maine uski hasi dekhkar haar maan li, kyun mai iske aage ladh hein nahi sakhta, woh muskuraade, wahi baat khatam.

(Begum was getting her revenge, and seeing her smile, I gave in. Because I couldn't put up a fight with her. She smiled, and that was the end of the discussion).

"Alright," I nodded silently.

"Are you really going to drink the soup, Nader?" Now it was her turn to be surprised.

"Since you asked, of course I will," I replied, smiling as I rested my chin on my hand, admiring her.

"For today, have the kebabs. Drink the soup some other time," she said, looking away, and at that moment. I realized something else :

Auraton seh gusse seh baat manwaayi nahi jaati, unke saamne haarna padhta hai, aur mujhe uske saamne haarna pasand hai.

(You can't win an argument with women by getting angry; you just have to give in. And I enjoyed giving in to her).

A little while later, our order arrived, and Uns started talking about everything in the world.

And as I quietly listened, occasionally placing pieces of kebab on her plate, giving her water between her talks, sharing laughs, we had a beautiful dinner together.

After dinner, her mood seemed a bit better, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Do you want anything else?" I asked.

"No," she replied.

"Alright," I said, and holding her hand, we left the restaurant. Just then, I noticed a cafe across the street.

"One minute, sweetheart, I'll be back." Saying that, I left her by the car and went to get coffee for both of us.

When I returned, she was leaning against the car, gazing up at the sky.

"The moon isn't visible," she said, searching for it between the clouds.

"Kaise dikhege, Uns. Chand ko bhi pata hai ki ek waqt peh ek hein chand chamak na chahiye, isliye chup gaya woh," I said, handing her the coffee and looking up at the sky with her.

(Of course it won't come, Uns. Even the moon knows only one moon should shine at a time, so it's hiding).

"Who could shine brighter than the moon, Nader?" she asked, taking a sip of her coffee and looking at me with curiosity.

"You," I replied simply, and her face lit up at my answer.

"Hairat hai na? Aasman bhi badalon mein dhak gaya hai, kyunki usko bhi pata hai, agar Chand zameen mein hai toh uska assman bhi usi ke pass hoga," she said, looking at me with love-filled eyes. I hadn't expected that from her.

(It's surprising, isn't it? The sky is also covered in clouds because it knows if the moon is on earth, then its sky would be right beside it).

"Are you calling me the sky?" I tried to look away, a bit shy.

"Tum woh aasman ho, joh mujhe chamkaane ke liye apni roshni kam karde" she said, and with every word, I felt myself being drawn closer to her.

(You are the sky, the one who dims its own light just to make me shine).

She called me the sky and completely changed my understanding of what it means. I used to think of myself as just the sky, but she made me feel like I was her shade, her sanctuary.

"Shall we go home?" I asked, holding the coffee cup that had now gone completely cold.

"Yes," Uns replied softly.

When we reached home, we found Ammi, Abbu, and Rasha sitting on the couch in the living room, talking. As we walked in, everyone's attention turned toward us.

We greeted them, and then went over to Ammi and Abbu. Ammi embraced Uns and asked her how she was, while I talked to Abbu and cast a glance at Rasha, who was looking at me with an expression that was anything but pleased.

That's when I remembered that when I came home in the afternoon, I went straight to see Ammi without talking to Rasha, even though Ammi had mentioned she'd returned home earlier day. I had just forgotten.

After greeting Abbu, I went over to her.

"Are you angry?" I asked.

"Obviously!" came Rasha's reply. Just like her sister-in-law, she gets angry too, but the difference is she's easier to appease than Uns.

"Still mad?" I asked, pulling a chocolate bar from my pocket and holding it out to her. The moment she saw the chocolate, a smile appeared on her face. Rasha is so easy to cheer up; I couldn't help but feel proud of myself.

But before Rasha could take the chocolate, Ammi's teasing comment halted her outstretched hand.

"You're spoiling her too much, Aziz!" Ammi said in a scolding yet affectionate tone.

"Oh, let him spoil her, Ammi! Aziz has only one sister, and the house has only one daughter," Uns spoke up, taking Rasha's side and trying to win Ammi over.

"Ek beti thi, ab doh hai," Ammi replied, running her hand lovingly over Uns's head. There was happiness on her face as she looked at Uns, and I silently thanked Allah that Ammi thought of Uns as her own daughter.

"Yes, we truly have two daughters now. So Uns deserves to be spoiled as well," Abbu added, placing a hand on Uns's head, and I prayed that the love Hassan Uncle couldn't give her, Abbu would. Or perhaps I should say that Abbu already did; he held Rasha and Uns in high regard, cherishing them both.

And I am endlessly grateful that Khalid Nader is my father-a man who speaks kindly to his wife would naturally treat his daughters with the same respect.

After talking with everyone downstairs, we went up to our room around nine. Once inside, I placed Uns's bag on the couch, and she began removing her abaya and hijab. The moment I saw her take off the abaya, I went over and embraced her tightly, letting her presence wash away all my tension and stress. Her touch felt so warm, her soft cotton clothes even more comforting, and her hair soothed me further. The scent of her hair was enough to calm my nerves, or stir them whenever it wanted.

"Are you okay?" came her concerned voice.

"I'm fine now," I said, inhaling the scent of her neck.

"If love leads to sin, Uns, can that sin be forgiven?" I asked, holding her close to my chest, my words laced with hesitation as her hair's fragrance weakened my resolve.

"Isn't love itself a sin, Aziz? What could be a greater sin than that?" she murmured softly, snuggling closer.

"There is, sweetheart. There is a sin even greater than love, which I have committed" I admitted, gathering the courage to continue.

"You?" She lifted her head to look at me, her eyes searching my face, reflecting a mixture of surprise and confusion.

"Yes, I have sinned under the guise of love, and I can't live with this sin anymore," I whispered, as tears started to fall from my eyes, and Uns's expression shifted to one of shock.

"Gunnah bada hai?" she asked gently.

(Is it a big sin?)

"Bahut bada," I replied.

(A very big one).

"Batado," she said.

(Tell me).

"Tumhara dil bhi tuth sakhta hai," I warned her.

(It might break your heart).

"Tuthne do," she responded calmly.

(Let it break).

She trusted me completely, and I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I wasn't worthy of that trust.

"I've committed a sin, Uns. For the past seven years, I ... stalked you... everywhere, every moment, every minute." The confession slipped out, a burden I had forgotten to carry.

There was a strange look on her face, as if she were momentarily stunned.

"The bangles I gifted you-I had fitted a transmitter in them. I even installed one in your car. Wherever you went, I was there, just to see you. I became so consumed by my desire that I lost sight of reality.

Samajh nahi paaya ki mehboob ka ek dedaar karne ke liye joh tadap dil mein hoti hai woh asli mohabbat hai.

Mehboob ko dur seh dekh kar joh khushi milti hai, woh asli mohabbat hai.

Tum us waqt sirf meri zid thi, Uns, joh mujhe haasil karna tha lekin ab tum meri pehli aur aakhri dua ban chuki ho, meri aarzu ho, aur mai tumhari maafi ke kaabil bhi nahi hoon," I laid my heart bare before her because a harsh truth is better than a false relationship.

(I couldn't understand that the longing to catch a mere glimpse of one's beloved is true love; that seeing one's beloved from afar brings a different kind of joy. Back then, you were just an obsession, something I had to possess. But now, Uns, you've become my prayer, my deepest wish. You're the first and last prayer on my lips, and I know I'm not worthy of forgiveness).

After I finished, I looked into her eyes. For the first time, I couldn't read them. There was no coldness, no tears, no sadness, no anger. There was only a spark.

I expected her to be angry now, to say something, to lash out at me. But she said nothing, and I stood there being utterly helpless. All the time we had spent together came rushing back to me. Was this the end of our journey? Was she going to leave me once again? Would Aziz Nader be alone once more?

"Let's pray Isha together, Aziz," she said, moving slightly away with a gentle smile. Her calmness surprised me. I hadn't expected her to react this way. She was about to leave my side when I grabbed her hand.

"Tum mujhe chod ke jougi toh nahi na, Uns?" I whispered, my voice barely audible as I couldn't bring myself to look at her. I knew I shouldn't ask this, but I was helpless-helpless in my love for her. If it meant I'd have to kneel and beg her to stay, I would. I would do anything to win her back.

(You're not going to leave me, right, Uns).

"Mehbooba chodke jaa sakhti hai, Aziz. Biwi nahi," she said softly, lifting my chin with her gentle hand. Our eyes met, and her answer left me speechless. Before I could say anything, she pressed a gentle kiss to my chin, and her touch brought me an indescribable peace, reigniting my lost hopes.

(A lover might leave, Aziz, but a wife doesn't).

"I'll make wudu and be right back," she said, heading toward the washroom, and I stood there, watching her.

After two minutes, Uns came out in a green outfit, adjusting her sleeves. She glanced at me briefly before saying, "Go make wudu, Aziz," as she picked up the prayer rug from the shelf beside the couch.

Her calm demeanor only heightened my anxiety, so to calm myself, I decided that prayer was my best refuge. Without a word, I went to perform wudu. When I returned, Uns had already laid out the prayer rug, waiting for me.

I stood at the front, and she positioned herself a couple of inches behind me. I raised my hands and said, "Allahu Akbar," feeling as if I was seeking forgiveness. When I went into sujood, a wave of tranquility washed over me, as if I was free from all my sins. I didn't know what the future held, but I knew I had no secrets left from her; everything was laid bare. I had confessed every truth, every sin of my life to her. Whatever punishment she chose, I was ready to accept.

Kyun ki ab, Aziz Nader, azaad hai!

As I finished the prayer and opened my hands in supplication, I felt Uns beside me. She placed her head on my shoulder, intertwining her fingers with mine to count the prayer beads in silence. The only sound was the rhythm of our breathing.

After the tasbeeh, we held hands to make dua. I prayed for every happiness in the world for her. When I opened my eyes, I saw Uns still had her eyes closed, lost in her own supplication. I recited a blessing softly and blew it over her face.

We had prayed together many times before, but this felt different. In this prayer, our hearts were both broken, seeking solace together.

After a few moments, Uns opened her eyes and looked at me.

Chehra par aur noor chalak ne laga, woh toh khubsurat hai hein, uska nath bhi kuch kam nahi hai!

Dunya ki har lajawab cheez ek taraf aur uska chera ek taraf.

Iske chere ke aage mujhe kuch dikhta hein nahi hai, yaah yuhn kahu ki isse khubsurat kuch aur hai hein nahi dekhne ke liye.

Ek baar use dekhlu toh bas nazre usi par teher jaati hai.

(Her face seemed radiant, almost illuminated, and her beauty felt incomparable. Each time I looked at her, my gaze was captivated).

"Uns-"

Before I could say anything more, Uns leaned her head into my lap and held me tightly, resting against my chest.

"Do you know what happened today, Aziz?" she began, recounting her entire day, laughing at times and sharing memories from her childhood. I listened, puzzled at her sudden openness. But then, she broke down, tears filling her eyes once more.

"After Allah, I trusted only you, Aziz," she whispered between her tears. "So much that just hearing your name would bring me peace. Then why did you betray me?" she asked, crying, leaving me speechless in silence.

"Tumhe maafi chahiye thi na, Nader? Toh loh maaf kiya maine tumhe, mai tumhe tumhare haaji hone ke sadqe maaf karti hoon, Aziz," she said, lifting her head from my lap and looking at me with teary eyes. Her words stunned me; I had never imagined that my repentance and devotion could lead to this.

(You wanted forgiveness, Nader, didn't you? Then consider yourself forgiven).

"Jis shaqshs neh allah ki chaukhat mein apne gunaahon ki bakshish maangli, mai us shaqshs ko kaise na maaf karu?" she said, placing her hand gently on my shoulder. Her words freed my anxious heart, lifting the burden of my guilt.

(How could I not forgive someone who has sought Allah's mercy for their sins at His doorstep).

"Mujhe tumpe aitbaar hai, Aziz, mera maan kabhi na todna, mera quroor ho tum Aziz, mujhe yuhn andhere mein kabhi na rakhna. Mai tumse ishq karti hoon, Aziz Nader," she confessed, her words leaving me breathless.

(I trust you, Aziz. Don't ever break that trust. You are my pride, Aziz. Don't ever leave me in darkness, I love you, Aziz Nader).

"Don't love me, Uns. I am not worthy of your love-"

"If you weren't worthy, Aziz, then you wouldn't be in my destiny," she replied. "Despite everything, Allah still destined you for me. It must be for a reason. I have forgiven you.

Magar naraaz hone ka haqh hai mujhe," she added with a gentle smile, holding my hand.

(But I still have the right to be hurt).

"Aur mujhe, tumhe manaane ka farz hai," I replied, kissing her hand with a heart full of love.

(And I have the duty to win you back).

"I need some time alone, Aziz. Could you sleep in the master bedroom tonight?" she requested, pleading. Though I didn't want to, I agreed. I couldn't bear to be apart from her, but I couldn't deny her anything. She needed space, and I needed her presence.

After returning the prayer rug to the shelf, I opened the door to the master bedroom. Before stepping inside, I looked back at Uns, who was wrapped in a blanket, her back turned as she settled in.

I wanted to stay there, watching her forever. But she turned around and looked at me, so I quickly averted my gaze and entered the room.

For Hindi / Urdu Readers :

For English Readers :

"My sleep was abruptly broken by intense stomach pain, so severe that I felt like stabbing my stomach with a knife to relieve it. As I opened my eyes in agony, I was left breathless and, for a second, I forgot all my pain. Right in front of me, Aziz was kneeling on the floor, holding my hand protectively in his. His head rested on the bed, and he was asleep.

Uska chera yeh dim light mein bhi chamak raha tha. Kitna noor hai iske chere mein, jab bhi dekhti hoon sirf hairat hein hoti hai, ki koi mard itna khubsurat kaise lagh sakhta hai mujhe?(Even in this dim light, his face seemed to glow. How much light is there on his face? Every time I look at him, I can't help but marvel at how a man could look so beautiful to me).

His deep blue eyes were closed, and his cheek was pressed against the bed. I felt a sudden urge to squeeze him tightly, and a faint smile crept onto my face. My gaze then fell on the mole below his neck, and without thinking, I leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on it.

The next second, I saw Aziz kissing my hand softly. Was he awake? Realization struck me hard-Aziz had been sleeping here on the floor.

"Nader," I whispered, feeling restless.

"Yes, sweetheart," he replied in his deep, sleepy voice, and hearing it sent an electric wave through me.

Before I could complete my sentence, the pain in my stomach surged again, forcing me to get up and go to the wardrobe to grab my clothes and head to the washroom. After changing, I stepped out to find Aziz, looking worried, standing by the door.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong? Are you okay?" he asked, checking my face, cheeks, neck, and forehead one by one, his concern clear.

"It's nothing, Nader. It's just...my time of the month," I replied casually, though internally, my mind is set on killing my stubborn stomach; if I could just find a knife, this shameless stomach wouldn't stand a chance.

"What can I do for you, sweetheart?" Aziz asked, ruffling his hair, looking adorably nervous. His cuteness melted me, and I was momentarily stunned by his appearance-he wore a black vest with black jeans, his muscles making my senses go weak.

"You don't have to do anything, Nader," I laughed. Before heading to the bed, I moved closer to him, and he backed away, startled. What a shy husband I have!

"What happened?" he asked, taking a step back.

"Acche lagh rahe ho," I said softly, and before he could retreat to the wall, I kissed his muscles and then went to lie on the bed. I glanced back at him and noticed his cheeks turning red. He was standing there like a statue looking exactly like a red hot tomato.

"Mood swings," he muttered. And exactly two seconds later, the pain returned.

Holding my stomach, I checked the time. It was 4:30 a.m.

"Sweetheart, tell me what you need-chocolates, ice cream, kebabs, biryani...what do you want?" he asked, suddenly sitting on the bed and gently caressing my cheeks, his concern like that of a child.

Seeing his care made me feel happy, yet I wasn't used to this. Back then, I had no one to fulfill my cravings, so I'd stopped having them altogether. Now, when he asks me suddenly, I don't know what to say. I never allowed myself to want such things.

"Nader, mujhe koi cravings nahi hai aur waise bhi mujhe in sab chizon ki aadat nahi hai-"

(Nader, I don't have cravings, and I'm not used to these things).

"Toh aadat daal lo, Sweetheart!" Aziz interrupted, his voice slightly stern as he got up and walked toward the door.

(Then get used to them, sweetheart).

"Where are you going?" I asked, uncertain about what he was up to.

"I'm going to get you warm water," he replied, glancing back before leaving the room.

I don't know why, but a warm feeling blossomed within me. Since the age of eight, I'd lived with my grandparents. After they passed away, I was left alone, never giving much thought to cravings. I'd only felt the pain, then distracted myself until the pain returned. I didn't know what it was to crave, or what it was to want something to eat. But now, there was someone who, without me saying a word, was determined to fulfill every need I had.

I never imagined there would be a man who'd go to the kitchen at 4:30 a.m. just to bring me warm water. Could anyone care for me this much? Could anyone love me as deeply as Aziz, who fell asleep on the floor, kneeling with my hand in his?

"Sweetheart," his voice pulled me out of my thoughts. Aziz was coming toward me, holding a tray with warm water and fresh juice.

"First, drink the water, then the juice, alright?" He placed the tray on the nightstand, looking at me with love.

"Thank you," I murmured quietly.

"Don't thank me. It's my duty to take care of you," he said, gazing at me tenderly.

"You drink the juice while I go to pray Fajr. I'm taking my phone with me. If the pain gets worse, just give me a missed call, and I'll come right back." He kissed my forehead, then picked up his phone from the table and slipped it into his pocket, taking a shirt from the wardrobe and putting it on.

"I'll be back soon," he assured me as he came closer.

I simply smiled and nodded, and he leaned even closer, placing both hands on my cheeks and kissing me gently on my lips, then my forehead again.

I smiled, then blushed, and finally, my stomach interrupted all my emotions with a fresh wave of pain.

He noticed me for a brief moment then left quietly. As he left, I buried my face in the pillow.

I'd been wrong about him. He wasn't shy at all, instead he was shameless-absolutely shameless, I told myself as my face turned red as a tomato.

I picked up the glass of warm water, and just before I took a sip, I could feel his touch lingering on my lips. It was as if his kiss had taken my pain away. I didn't feel the pain anymore? His care seemed to push the ache into the background.

After finishing the water, I felt better, and a few minutes later, I finished the fresh watermelon juice he had made for me. Now, I was beginning to miss him. Sometimes, I'm astonished by how devout he's become about his prayers. After our Nikkah, he never took his phone with him to prayer. He'd always say, "During worship, there's only worship." But today, it was about worship and love, he took it along, just in case I needed him.

I was sure he wouldn't be back until after seven, so I was getting ready to sleep. Just then, I heard a knock at the door, which opened gently. As it did, Aziz entered, holding a bouquet of roses. I felt a blend of happiness and surprise.

"You're back so soon?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes," Aziz replied with a smile, placing the flowers in the vase on the nightstand.

"Are you okay, Sweetheart?" he asked, putting his hand gently on my head.

"I'm not sick!" I replied firmly. Mood swings, very bad mood swings.

"Oh, sorry," he stammered, looking a bit nervous and shuffling his black messy hair.

"These flowers are for you, sweetheart," he said, moving the vase closer so I could inhale the scent of the roses.

"Aren't you going to the gym?" I asked.

"Not in the mood today," he replied, looking at me with a hint of ease, then walked over to the shelf. Without a word, I watched him.

He picked up the Quran from the shelf, sat beside me, gently moved my hands away from my lap, and rested his head on my lap. Then he opened the Quran and began to recite. As I looked at him, a tear rolled down from my eye, falling onto his forehead and drifting toward his right eye. Aziz looked at me, then closed the book and continued to gaze at me, still lying in my lap.

"Tumhare aansu bahut kimti hai, Uns. Aise roya karogi toh mujhe tissue box dozens mein kharidne padenge!" I felt an urge to punch him right now! I'd been waiting to hear some romantic line, and here he was, trying to make me even more frustrated!

(Your tears are precious, Uns. If you cry like this, I'll need to start buying tissues in bulk).

"Are you done?" I asked sarcastically.

"For now, yes," he said with a mischievous smile, reopening the Quran and continuing his recitation.

The sound of his voice as he recited was calming, and his voice seemed to ease my pain.

"Namaz, ke itne paband ho, Nader?" I asked seriously when he closed the Quran.

(Are you really so committed to prayer, Nader).

"Nahi, bas adat ho gayi hai namaz padhne ki," Aziz replied, lifting his head from my lap and gently kissing my forehead.

("No, it's just become a habit to pray).

And once again, he left me speechless.

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Good Evening, Dear Readers! 🌼

Before diving into the latest chapter, I want to extend a heartfelt apology for the recent delay in postings. Life threw some personal commitments my way, and I deeply regret any disappointment it may have caused. Your concern and patience mean the world to me - thank you for being the most incredible readers anyone could ask for! 🙏💖

But now, get ready, because it's far from over!

Right after you finish this chapter, Truthful Betrayal awaits you on both platforms. And once you've savored every twist and turn, be prepared - our beloved Mirsha will step back into the spotlight tomorrow! Buckle up, because it's going to be a thrilling, emotional rollercoaster across both novels!

And, as we gear up, I have a special request for all of you - let's reach 999+ votes and 899+ comments! 🙌

Share your thoughts, theories, and reactions using #Unziz - I can't wait to hear your take on Aziz and Uns! Do you think Aziz was right?

Or did Uns make the better choice?

And, what's your take on the letters? 📜

Finally, who's ready for #Mirsha? What do you think is next for them? Drop your predictions and let's keep the excitement alive! 🔥

With all my love and gratitude,

Author Almas ❤️

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Chapter Aesthetics :

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